On imposter syndrome
I don’t know why I assumed that this situation would be any different, but I must admit I was surprised when a familiar feeling turned up this weekend as I prepared to finally launch The Caring Collective into the wider world and share details of our first event. It was a little uncomfortable, a bit scary and generally made me want to hide away again and to be honest, shut up.
Of course just as I’d started to feel a bit more comfortable and confident sharing my story, imposter syndrome would show up along for the ride!
I’m used to feeling it in my professional life, and in my spare time I do a lot of writing so it always shows up there, but this feels like something else. The Caring Collective is very personal, and so much of it is about me sharing my experience to try and find others. It seemed like just as I was finding my feet and claiming the space, it hit me hard.
Throughout my time setting up and developing The CC, I have been first and foremost a carer. This is just one way to share my experience, to help me make sense of it, and to try and help other people too - but what I’ve definitely found as I’ve tried to make my experience more accessible and open to people (so they in turn will trust me with theirs) is that I don’t always feel like I have a right to talk about some of the things I do. That, for the most part, this isn’t my story and I’m not an expert. Some other helpful things my brain has churned out in the last few months include golden nuggets such as:
‘Well, sometimes your mum doesn’t need that much looking after so are you even a carer?’
‘This isn’t about you, stop making it about you, you’re actually harming people with mental health issues by making it more about their carers’
‘You’re taking up the space of someone who knows much more about being a carer than you do, after all, do you even sacrifice that much?’
‘You still enjoy some things so you’re not suffering enough and don’t have a right to talk to others about painful situations’
‘You’re not a young carer and you should be used to it by now’
‘people have it much worse than you and don’t go about it/don’t set up an instagram account about it’ (*chefs kiss*)
‘You’re not a very good carer because you’re mum is still unwell and you still panic when things go wrong’
‘You’re spending so much time on this project that you’re not actually doing your job’
The combination of these thoughts can be incredibly tiring and offputting. It makes me not want to talk about my experiences, it makes me worry that I’m doing a terrible job, and it makes me wonder if The CC should exist at all.
But here is also what I know about these thoughts: They are trying to help me in the only way they know how. Of course it’s scary to share a personal experience with strangers, especially one as secretive as being a carer for someone with a life altering mental health condition. Of course I feel guilty talking about my mum, because she’s someone I love and respect, and sometimes my words and feelings can get twisted. And of course it’s painful to hold my memories up to show people they aren’t alone if the same thing has happened to them.
It will always be easier not to bother, and there will always be people who rather I didn’t talk about it. Sometimes their reasons are kind, and sometimes they aren’t. Quite often when we start to find our confidence talking about things that other people find difficult, they get uncomfortable, and we feel the brunt of it. I know all these things, but sometimes it still feels hard to push through it.
I’m sharing this now because I know as things develop with The CC, there will be many more times when things feel a bit ‘off’, and I want to shut myself down and stop. There will be the times I hear or read things I’ve said and wince, worrying I’ve been too honest, and I’m sure there will be people all too willing to tell me to be quiet.
But I hope there might also be times when people reach out and feel able to share their own stories, or say that some of my words have been helpful. I hope that in the (virtual) room next week, the energy and compassion from the other faces I see will drown out some of the noises I’ve got used to hearing, and make room for something altogether more enjoyable.
The Caring Collective exists because I’ve worked hard to ignore the voices that tell me not to do it. Instead I’ve tried to focus on the good that can come from it, even if it feels uncomfortable to start with. I don’t really know where this journey will go, and what wonderful things might come from it, but I do know that sometimes, you just have to go with it.