On imposter syndrome and other false narratives
Last night I dreamed I had a phone conversation with a friend I haven’t seen for so many years I lose count. In my dream, I called him up, and he unexpectedly answered, and then started talking as if we’d seen each other yesterday.
Thing is, he didn’t talk with me, he talked at me. One long stream of words, thoughts, ideas, without waiting, without truly connecting with me. I wanted to hear about my friend’s life and worries and joys. But I wanted it to be a conversation and it wasn’t. It was almost like he had picked up the phone to record a voice memo.
In the dream, even as the conversation was going on, I realized this was the dynamic. “Oh,” I thought to myself in my dream. “I guess this is how he talked to me: one long one-way street. Is it gendered? Was it always like that?” I woke up in the middle of the conversation, disturbed and almost bereaved. Like I had lost a friend all over again, both because I woke up, but also and moreover because it felt like he hadn’t ever truly been my friend.
Of course, my dream has nothing to do with this person (who is lovely). In the beautiful light of the morning I know this wasn’t our dynamic. There were other issues of connection and authenticity, as in most friendships, but this wasn’t one of them. There is relief in this knowledge.
I have written before about the notion that everything in our dreams is ourselves, even when others stand in for us. So I know the dream has to do with something in me. There are clearly parts of my life where I talk at me like that, without listening for any answers, without truly connecting with myself. I think we all have some of those parts. We call them many different things: imposter syndrome, personal baggage, over-intellectualizing, and so much else. These are the parts that keep us from really being with ourselves as we are.
For me, the work of learning to connect with myself has been a lifelong struggle, with peaks of complete disconnection and moments of absolute alignment. The more spaciousness I build into my life - literal time to sit still, to connect, to feel - the easier it is. Maybe I don’t always act on this information, maybe there sometimes are solid reasons I can’t. But when I know something with my body, mind, and soul, my path of action is different, conscious, chosen with care.
When I can do that, I feel fully accountable. In those cases, I know I would be able to explain myself to an old friend who called me out of the blue: yes, I chose this. And I know why.
