volume fifty-eight

wish I was the fonz

Imposter syndrome, also called perceived fraudulence, involves feelings of self-doubt and personal incompetence that persist despite your education, experience, and accomplishments. (source)

Imposter syndrome has been a huge root of every time I have wanted to pick up a drink. As a young teenager, having my first few sips with my family and then later with friends, I felt I was superhero-like. I was suddenly walking around with the confidence I envied of every popular girl who bullied me in school. I was funny, tall, cool, and fun. The older I got, the more picking up a drink would help me feel at ease when I felt like I didn’t belong. When I felt out of place or felt imposter syndrome I could take a few sips and be cool and calm in a Fonzie-style, carefree way.

From the time between around sixteen years old and… now, I have struggled to choose outfits for certain occasions. If there is an occasion I am going to — a party, wedding, show — and I don't feel like I should really be there, that puts so much more pressure on how I want to look when I walk through the door. If I feel like I of course should be there, I am still going to put myself in a rating of my own choosing by placing myself as the least important person there, the person who no one would notice if I didn’t show. Or worse, they would and would judge me for it.

I can’t tell you the number of times I have had a bedroom scattered in clothes, a wardrobe in shambles, a different shoe on each foot trying to compare, and just thought “I have no idea what to wear”. It is not because I have nothing, and it is not because I don’t love it all, but it is because I fear showing up as me means showing up somewhere I am not welcome. Until I got sober, when this would happen, there would be a conscious point where I would say, out loud, acknowledging the next logical step to myself, that “I am going to pour myself a wine and this will be easier”.

Within sips, I was usually back in my first choice of outfit, the one I picked out originally because I liked it and it felt like me. However, the difference was that wearing it now felt like I was oozing coolness and that any doubt I had in my mind over the outfit or its worthiness of walking through the doors were gone. With each new sip, I found myself loving it even more, loving myself more, finding myself worthy, shedding any trace of imposter syndrome that had caused all this in the first place. Imposter syndrome had me run late or cancel plans many times before I even got out the door. The right beverage would see me skip out the door.

Often when I arrived wherever I was going, the imposter syndrome would continue.

“This is a fancy, chic arts event and the art I make is silly and secret so what am I doing here, sorry? Is that a server with a tray of champagne? Over here please!”

“Hi this work event makes me feel like I am the weird outsider that is always too loud, too inexperienced, too much. I was hired just because you were desperate, right? You also think I am a bit of a handful and you expect me to be the one at this gathering that has too many drinks, right? Well, you are correct but as soon as I find that open bar you better believe I could care less about the thoughts I imagine you are having about me.”

“Oh am I in a queer space? This is a dream, I feel so at ease, I feel at home, I feel like I belong. But wait, do I belong? I don't actually think anyone knows I am queer. Do I look queer? What does that mean? Everyone must think I am here to piggyback off their queerness. I have barely dated anyone my whole life, leaving my bisexuality something people doubt and question, but making my demisexuality glaringly clear. Hmm, that person told me once that demisexuality is just something everyone feels, that it can’t be something I have no control over. I am clearly choosing to be a standoffish human who must be a snob when it comes to dating. Oh dear, that beautiful human just smiled at me, should I talk to them? No, they’re probably laughing at me, not smiling. Laughing with their friends about how ridiculous I look standing here, like a lost puppy and that I should go back to a straight venue. Where is the bar?”

“What a gorgeous wedding of very sophisticated people. I can see I am the only person with visible tattoos here and the bride’s grandparents want nothing to do with me because of the fact. They were just whispering about me and pointing. Everyone here is so fancy, and in love, and stable. Who am I with so much uncertainty in my life, no partner, not really knowing anyone here? A few shots should see me start the dancefloor and then if I cannot be fancy like them, at least I can be fun and useful.”

“I have been told I am very funny but I am also someone who books people on comedy shows so they have all likely just told me I am very funny because they want to be nice and then I will think of them the next time I book a show. Who do I think I am, showing up to perform on stage? I don’t write jokes, I am the joke”.

These are just some of the many internal monologues I have had over the years, many times, many different versions, and many cruel words thought. When it comes to my creativity, my success and my sexuality I have always felt like an imposter or an outsider, using alcohol as the way to help me forget that and instead ooze confidence.

Imagine then, Lauren entering AA and feeling imposter syndrome even there? Not even in my sobriety was I (yet) able to escape the feeling of perceived fraudulence. I ticked all of the boxes, I was right on the path that I had drunk myself into severe depression slowly, I was right on track to be drinking myself to death quickly, and I desired to stop drinking. Not in an “I am here to do it let’s go!” way but in an “I will die if I don’t” way. With all of this floating around in my head I looked and listened on and spoke to the first person kind enough to have a conversation with me, and told them that I didn’t think I belong here. I actually think I said the words “I don’t want to take a seat of someone who needs it” which made me cackle recalling to someone this past week. Oh yes, the age-old story. Thankfully that person in that first meeting knew all the right things to say to me and I stuck around. Thankfully they told me actually the seats available are infinite. Thankfully they didn’t tell me anything about myself, they asked me questions so that I could make up my own mind. Thankfully they showed me a whole lot of love and made it known how welcome I was. Imagine if I didn’t speak to them and I believed the voice in my head of not belonging? I know that if that happened I would be drinking right now, to avoid the feelings of imposter syndrome (and the many other reasons I enjoyed drinking to escape reality).

The imposter syndrome still sneaks in at times, but something magical has happened the longer I have stayed sober. I have had no choice but with a sound mind to either believe the cruel voice — the one telling me I am not good enough or queer enough or alcoholic enough or creative enough — or fight it. I keep fighting it and now I write these letters to you every week, I wear outfits that I feel myself in, I attend queer events and feel like I am where I am supposed to be and thank fucking goodness I go to meetings every single week, multiple times a week.

I belong right here in my skin and wherever this body desires to take me I will tell myself that I belong there too.

Where in your life have you felt imposter syndrome? Where have you found ways to overcome it?

here are three things I struggled with this week:

😴 Leaving an event at the time I wanted to. My sobriety and early morning ways are still something new for certain friends of mine who in fairness knew me for years as the last one to leave. Not that they have ever said anything, but I feel guilty being the first one to leave the birthday. The struggle is shedding the guilt, don’t worry, I still left.

🙅‍♀️ Telling someone no. Which was done with love and without feeling like I needed to over-explain myself…much.

😋 Just too darn busy to be eating dinner because by the time I am done with my day I just want to pass out and sleep ready to do it all again.

here are three blessings from this week:

🐈‍⬛ More cute cats to take care of this week!

🦫 The most perfect of perfect jobs for me in every way floated across my screen this week. I applied. If I don’t get it I know it will be meant to be (and if I do I will be thrilled) but it has left me with the hope that settling might not have to be what I do after all.

🌈 Someone showed me their true colours and I felt no sadness, rage or need to react. I just felt relieved to know and moved on with my day. Is this… personal growth?

here are three goals for the coming week:

🕰️Time management and the never-ending goal of balance.

✍️ Submit one of the many pieces that I have written, sitting filed away, to one of the many writing contests I have bookmarked. Just put my work out there, let it be read by a stranger, and do it for me.

🍁 I am so very close that this week I think I will complete the process of filing my citizenship application!

here is something I enjoyed this week: 

Solo Arts Heal, a weekly MarshStream Public Broadcast Platform program, presents empowering performances about healing and resilience. Through hosted interviews, talkbacks and audience Q&A, the Solo Arts Heal program provides transformative experiences, education, community outreach and advocacy through stories that celebrate the healing power of the arts and can be watched live on zoom, Wednesdays at 7:30pm PT.

This week I had the pleasure of tuning in to see two London Writers’ Salon friends — John I and William Wonders III — chat about William’s documentary “Fixing Grandma” which can be watched here. They also spoke about William’s current project which is a documentary about the current state of health of Black Men in America.

You can watch the recorded conversation here as well as other past guests (like Twinkle who performed such a moving, heartbreaking, important, honest piece) here.

pics or it didn’t happen:

getting the perfect shot of my friend on stage because that’s what he deserves

I love you,

LD

xoxo

hi, lauren deborah! is free for subscribers every week. feel I am not sharing enough? ask me a question and I will answer it in a future post.

if you would like to say thanks for this love letter, please like or comment (it means so much to me to hear from you 🧡), forward it to a friend who might enjoy it or if you’d like to, you can buy me a slice 🍕