I tell myself that everyone suffers from Imposter Syndrome. I'm not special. I'm overreacting. I'm stupid. I'm incapable of doing my job. I will never catch up. I'll be found out for the failure I am. Despite being paid to build websites for the past two years, I'm not really a web developer.
I'm the only front end developer at my job, surely this is the only reason they keep me around. Now that we just hired a new junior developer, I'll be useless. Found out. Worthless. I know I should focus on "doing the work," but instead, my mind rips away my confidence and leaves a distracted, shriveled mess of myself. Seeing my task list grow only paralyzes me further; this only perpetuates my insecurities.
The most common phrase my imposter whispers to me is, "If you were good at your job, you would know how to do this already." There isn't room for failure, ignorance, or self-compassion. I am who I am, and there isn't any view of myself that I want to see.
Why am I writing this? To receive pity or encouragement? Maybe, but not from you, the reader, but from myself. I hope that seeing my self-inflicted pain will spark the rebel I know I have within me to fight back.
The feisty 5-year-old, who was told they couldn't be a part of the safety patrol team but snuck into the janitor's closet and grabbed the vest anyway. The defiant 10-year-old, who was grounded for a day and then at midnight, stood in the front yard because she decided she was no longer grounded. I want her back. The curious 15-year-old, who loved exploring new ideas and was unabashedly herself. I miss these dormant pieces of myself desperately.
This is the first step on my journey to rediscovering myself.
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