The other day, I was watching the movie Shazam. It’s a story about a teenager who has been given superpowers by a wizard and is struggling under the weight of his new responsibility. He seeks the advice of a doctor, who identifies that he’s suffering from imposter syndrome. This has a few possible causes, he says, and one of them is rooted in childhood trauma. When I heard this, something inside me clicked.
There has been much discussion in my writing community about imposter syndrome – that well-known phenomenon of finding yourself unworthy of success and feeling like you’re going to be exposed as a fraud, even though you have worked so very hard for any iota of success.
… imposter syndrome – that well-known phenomenon of finding yourself unworthy of success and feeling like you’re going to be exposed as a fraud
But what no one mentions is that it doesn’t just apply to superpowers or creative work.
In fact, this feeling has accompanied me in all areas of life. For instance, the moment I started my teaching job, and felt the sinking feeling that someone was going to accuse me of lying about being a teacher and chasing me out; the moment we bought our newly built house – the first brand-new home I had ever lived in – and looking around feeling like I didn’t deserve to be there. And every moment I received an accolade for my writing, and quietly waiting for it to be identified as a mistake.
It wasn’t until I came across a recent story about imposter syndrome that I began to understand why this feeling hasn’t gone away. In the piece, journalist writes, “Impostor feelings often arise most acutely from threshold-crossing – from one social class to another, one culture to another, one vocation to another – something akin to what Pierre Bourdieu called the ‘split habitus,’ the self dwelling in two worlds at once.”
I was often the lowest in the office hierarchy and had faced frequent bullying and put-downs from higher-ranking colleagues… When I became a teacher, for the first time, I felt respected by students and colleagues
When I look back at my own “imposter feelings”, they are all characterised by the moments of crossing from one world to the other. In my career, I had worked in administration for 18 years. I was often the lowest in the office hierarchy and had faced frequent bullying and put-downs from higher-ranking colleagues. When I became a teacher at 36, after completing undergraduate and postgraduate university qualifications, I finally found myself in a “professional career”. For the first time, I felt respected by students and colleagues. I had a taste of autonomy, spending most of my time working with young people on my own, and there was such freedom in that.
When I bought my house, it was a move from the working-class life that I know so well and have grown up in, to the threshold of middle class. I walked around to the lyrics of the Talking Heads song ‘Once in a Lifetime’, thinking about my “beautiful house” and asking how did I get here? For the first few nights in my new home, I’d jolted awake in fear, wondering if there was something wrong with my mortgage and the bank would tell me it was all a mistake.
I recently spoke to a friend who said she has always just believed in herself and kept trying, and found success that way. She didn’t understand imposter syndrome, or how all these writers, especially women, suffered from it. I reflected on her life and mine. She had the benefit of a nuclear family and, at 50, both her parents are still alive and well. While she has certainly suffered hardship in her adult life, her childhood was not torn asunder by trauma.
I spent my childhood feeling impoverished and with a constant hunger for a different life, comparing myself to other children
I had been raised by a mother who suffered from bipolar, my childhood punctuated by her breakdowns and hospitalisations, bounced between foster homes and constant changes of schools. I watched my mother suffer physical and psychological abuse from her partners, and had experienced childhood sexual abuse. While I had learnt to process and deal with each of these traumas, they have left a mark on my psyche, a mark that I am still dealing with today.
I spent my childhood feeling impoverished and with a constant hunger for a different life, comparing myself to other children who had security, two parents, nice clothes, and went for regular outings. The one and only time I went to the Melbourne Show as a child was on a school excursion. I’d spent the day with a lump in my throat, fighting tears, as other children bought show bags that I had no money to buy. My mother didn’t know about the show, or about show bags. And while I’m sure there were instructions provided on the note home, she did not read or retain them.
It took me years to muster the courage to put myself out there and reach for the things I so desperately wanted…
It took me years to muster the courage to put myself out there and reach for the things I so desperately wanted – a satisfying career, a stable home and creative work. Even now, especially when things are going well, I still find myself feeling horribly exposed and embarrassed sometimes, wanting the metaphorical and literal experience of hiding in bed under my doona.
I am learning to ride the waves and use positive self-talk to battle these moments. And as I win each battle against this thief that attempts to keep me from happiness and success, I am learning to heal over the cracks of trauma and believe in myself. This is a constant battle, but more and more often, I am winning the war.
is an award-winning author of Sabiha’s Dilemma and Alma’s Loyalty, the first two books in her own voices young adult series Sassy Saints Series. Her books are published in ebook, paperback, hardcover, large print, dyslexic font and audiobook.
