There are few things I wake up with every morning and fall asleep with every night. I mean, there’s usually a pillow, for starters. But one of those things sticks with me through thick and thin, like some ever-persistent rash that no cream can heal: my imposter syndrome.

If you’re unfamiliar with the term, congratulations, you’re a superhuman, and scientists will be knocking on your door in a few moments to take you away for testing. Imposter syndrome is a nagging voice in your head telling you that you’re not good enough, you don’t deserve the things you have, that you’re a fake.

It likes bringing us down (waaaaay down) and can often lead us to shying away from even trying. After all, why should we try, when we’re not very good and going to fail anyway?

Imposter Syndrome…let’s call her Izzy Sinclair (for funsies)…is almost always a LIAR. It’s our anxiety or fear of failure or just immense pressure presenting itself as an opportunity to put ourselves down. Because, if Izzy says it enough, eventually we’ll believe her and back away from progress.

After all, if we don’t try, we don’t fail.

If we’re out here not reaching for anything, Izzy Sinclair won’t be there to slap our hands away when we get too close. Sans slapped hands for all!

Instead, I think you need to ready yourself for some stinging knuckles.

Izzy Sinclair and I are so well acquainted that when I don’t have her around, I feel off. If I pay too much attention to the fact my thoughts aren’t consumed with self-deprecation, Izzy will run back in, this time with even more insults and terrible things to say, like, ‘how cocky must you be to think you were good enough?!’

I have no solution for you to be rid of Izzy.

What I can say is that I’m learning to live with her. She’s nasty, vulgar, and has a very dark sense humour (okay, yes, she’s my sub-conscious, so she’s just me…I digress…) but if I can co-exist without giving her too much space, my writing flows a lot better. A little bit of Izzy helps me move forward, because I’m striving to be better, to maybe one day get past that point of doubting everything I’m doing. I know her voice is always there, prodding and making fun of me, so I put her on mute: I know the messages are there, I’m just not reading them.

Of course, there will be days that Izzy Sinclair works her way off mute and completely takes over. I let Izzy have those days – it means I can catch up on Netflix or something while she rages.

However, one thing that has helped me immensely is knowing that my Izzy Sinclair problem is not an individual problem. Izzy may be specific to me, but everyone has their own Izzy. No matter their industry, age, talent, what-freaking-ever, everyone faces imposter syndrome at some point in their life. (And if you don’t, again, hang tight for those scientists to come and test you).

What’s the point of this blog post? A few words of advice, I suppose, from someone who struggles with it so much that sometimes all she can do is curl into a ball:

The job of imposter syndrome is to throw you off course, but you mustn’t let it. It can slow you down, but don’t let it stop you. 

Lastly, here's one thing to remember if you’re going through this...

You can’t move forward because of imposter syndrome, but you can move forward despite it.