The layers of impostor syndrome.
While writing “The Grapes of Wrath,” John Steinbeck kept a diary to chronicle his work on the novel.
It’s a behind-the-curtain view into his creative journey and the excruciating self-doubt he experienced while writing what would later win the Pulitzer and Nobel prizes in literature.
In a moment of great doubt, he wrote the following,
“This book has become a misery to me because of my inadequacy.”
It bears mentioning Steinbeck was already a successful novelist – these were not the insecurities and self-doubt of a first-time author.
“The Grapes of Wrath” was published in 1939.
“Of Mice and Men” (one of my all-time favorites) was published in 1937 and won Steinbeck acclaim.
When I first read the line, “This book has become a misery to me because of my inadequacy.” it was the equivalent to a punch in the gut.
It struck an edge within me, one I’ve run away from far too many times.
When I was in the corporate world, I was consistently in the top 3 in sales. I received awards, plaques, trips to Hawaii – the whole nine yards.
I received compliments from my peers and management, and I was asked to share how I worked with others so they could improve.
And I spent every day in fear that I would be called out for being a phony, a fake – an impostor. I wasn’t worthy of my success, the money, or the accolades.
I wasn’t worthy of the life I had created. I wasn’t worthy of my marriage. I was waiting for her to realize she could do better.
Always looking over my shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It’s a terrible and exhausting way to live.
My wife and I were watching “Welcome to Wrexham,” a docuseries following the actors Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney’s acquisition of and learning how to run the third oldest professional football club in the world.
In an early episode, Ryan Reynolds acknowledges his fears of acquiring a football team; he flat-out states,
“They’re going to say no. Impostor syndrome is in full effect.”
Impostor syndrome can be debilitating or a sign of expansion.
Impostor syndrome is debilitating when we believe a narrative that’s not true, and we allow that narrative to control our actions and how we show up in the world.
I lived my corporate career under the veil of fear and operated from this state.
When we operate out of fear, we leave so much of our innate potential on the table, untapped and unfulfilled. We’re living a fractional existence, pretending it’s whole, and suffering within the disparity.
Steinbeck’s experience was internally brutal, but it didn’t negatively impact the finished product.
The Grapes of Wrath is considered by many to be the Great American Novel.
I won’t pretend to know Ryan Reynolds’s experience of impostor syndrome other than to paint it through my own experience and what I imagine is a relatively universal experience of it; it sucks.
More specifically, impostor syndrome makes us question our capabilities and our knowledge, the very capability and knowledge that’s brought us where we are today.
Impostor syndrome decimates our self-trust and, in turn, our self-confidence and self-image.
It takes our successes and leverages them as weapons of diminishment,
“I’m not worthy of this.”
“I lucked my way into it.”
“I don’t actually know what the fuck I’m doing.”
We shrink under the weight of impostor syndrome.
But what if we stopped accepting impostor syndrome on the superficial level of diminishment and instead learned to use it as a tool for expansion?
Impostor syndrome is highly nuanced, but it appears in our lives in two distinct ways, and both are opportunities for expansion.
The first and most common way impostor syndrome appears is when we diminish our success and believe the false narrative.
We ignore the external reality of a situation/circumstance and believe our inner emotions and feelings about that situation/circumstance instead.
An example,
Reality:
“I am the number one sales executive in the company.”
Inner-State:
“I don’t feel like the number one sales executive in the company.”
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“I’m not worthy of being the number one sales executive in the company.”
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“I really don’t know what I’m doing, and I really hope no one figures it out.”
Each was an emotional reaction, and I experienced it as truth.
Each reaction born from impostor syndrome in the defiance of truth is a window into our unresolved inner wounds.
These inner wounds contain the seeds of our most significant growth if we’re willing to let go of our belief in them and begin testing their veracity.
Using “I’m not worthy of success” as an example.
Would I (or anyone for that matter) ever look at a newborn baby and say,
“They’re unworthy of success.”
I wouldn’t, and I can’t imagine anyone else would either.
I wasn’t (no one was) born unworthy, inadequate, or possessing any of the infinite imprisoning beliefs that underlie and reinforce impostor syndrome.
Imprisoning beliefs are learned. They’re the products of a moment(s) in our lives and the meaning we attribute to the moment(s).
We then seek evidence to support the meaning, and the meaning morphs into a belief, and in time, the belief transforms into the identity we live/operate from.
Our actions, choices, and decisions flow from this belief and stifle our lives and our potential.
But, because they are learned, they can be unlearned. The first step in unlearning is the acceptance that we weren’t born with any of our underlying beliefs that support impostor syndrome.
The second step is creating an internal foundation that is the antithesis of our imprisoning beliefs.
“I’m not worthy” becomes “I am worthy.”
The third step is to take meaningful action that supports, in this example, “I am worthy.”
One of the ways we do this is to examine how we self-punish and areas where we deny ourselves joy.
When we start unwinding these behaviors and replace them with empowering behaviors, we reinforce our self-worth.
John Steinbeck and Ryan Reynolds’s experiences are the second-way impostor syndrome appears in our lives.
Impostor syndrome will appear as we expand our lives and test our capabilities.
Steinbeck was pushing himself as an artist; he was pursuing mastery in his craft and was unwilling to settle for the skills that got him where he was.
Reynolds has experienced great success in Hollywood and as a businessman, but he’s never owned a football team.
Both were challenging themselves, and both experienced the inner struggle that arises when we do.
I started writing “Blank Canvas” in prison, and the work continued for years after my release.
I’d never written a book before, and I was writing about reinventing my life.
However, I was still in the depths of shame, unworthiness, inadequacy, and, of course, impostor syndrome.
“Who the hell am I to write about creating a new life when the life I’m living isn’t all that great?”
I spent a great deal of time, and I still find myself believing when I reach this level of success, then I’ll stop feeling like an impostor.
I believed this so much that it’s been a behind-the-scenes driving force of my progress.
Steinbeck’s journal entry, “This book has become a misery to me because of my inadequacy,” humanized impostor syndrome for me and helped me navigate my own experience.
But it was Ryan Reynolds’s admission of feeling like an impostor that reframed what impostor syndrome can mean for us.
When impostor syndrome is born from expansion, it initially appears as a lighthouse.
It’s a flashing warning screaming at us to change course. And if we don’t, we will sink and die.
Impostor syndrome as a lighthouse diminishes our lives.
The belief that when I achieve this level of success, I’ll free myself from impostor syndrome is playing small; it’s diminishing.
What if, instead, we viewed impostor syndrome as a beacon, an inviting light informing us where to go?
The brighter the light, the more illuminated our path becomes.
Fear as a beacon expands your life.
What would it look and feel like to continually challenge ourselves, accessing more and more of our potential, not to eliminate impostor syndrome, but to accept it as a natural component of the journey and embrace it as the beacon of growth it is?
I don’t know what drove Steinbeck or Reynolds to move forward despite their impostor syndrome, but I know what drove and still drives me.
I was in the Otisville Federal Prison library writing what would later become my book.
I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, and what I was writing felt like I was pouring bleach on a gaping wound; I threw my pen in a fit of fear, doubt, and impostor syndrome as I asked,
“Why am I doing this?”
It was my heart that answered, and I carry these words with me to this day,
“You’re doing this to help one person.”
I had a mission more significant than myself that was in service to someone in need.
I didn’t magically stop feeling like an impostor, but I had the fuel to navigate the emotions.
Impostor syndrome can be diminishing and debilitating or expansive and empowering.
How we choose to perceive it determines our experience of impostor syndrome and, in turn, our lives.
Finnish Broadcasting Company Yle Archives on Wikimedia, Public Domain
