I’m a terrible writer. I’m a useless thinker. This post will FAIL.
Wow… my imposter syndrome is on steroids today. It’s an overgrown toddler who refuses to be pacified. Nothing’s getting past this little tyrant.
Because she’s right.
By looking round for a dummy to get this two year old darling to be quiet, I’m trying to get over imposter syndrome, trying to convince myself that I can be good at writing/blogging/calming small children down. But there’s no magic lullaby to stop you feeling like a fraud because…
You’re not imagining that you’re an impostor, it’s likely that you are oneSeth Godin
In other words, setting out to be good at this is like saying I get to decide if I’m good at it or not. And I don’t. No one gets to decide if they’re ‘good’ at what they do. No one gets to decide what impact they actually make. That’s up to the people they want to serve.
We just get to decide whether we show up and do the work every day. And then stay still and close our eyes and put our hands to the ground to feel for resonance.
So instead of trying to be a ‘good’ anything, I (still grudgingly) accept that setting out to be good means refusing to fail and not failing means doing things as they’ve always been done, doing things to make us feel better about ourselves instead of being truly generous and doing something that, because it pushes at the edges, opens you up to being challenged, criticised, embarrassed… something that might fail.
A bad fraud is one who promises something they can’t deliver on… a person, a product, a multiple choice questionnaire in a magazine that treats you like you need saving so that they can feel like the hero.
But we can be good frauds… someone who says, in the words of Seth Godin, “this might not work”, I can’t guarantee that it will be good but I’m going to show up and do the work every day anyway.
Open yourself up to failure today… be a good fraud!
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