In my recent posts I think it is obvious that I am struggling. It's interesting in some ways, because each day the amount of struggle I feel varies and maybe that is how it is for everyone. I have trouble really knowing what feeling "normal" means and maybe it means nothing but still I feel like I am always striving to reach it. This is why I want to hear other people's struggles so desperately, so that I can gauge my own thoughts and feelings against theirs and figure out if I am getting closer or further away from who I want to be. I am fearful that I will never reach that point and that so much damage has been done in my past to ever fully recover. When I look at where I was 10 years ago, I am amazed at how different I am and how differently I view the world, but still I am not content with who I am. It feels like I am in this constant internal battle with myself and I don't really know who I want to win. I have moments where I think that I need to accept myself as I am and then moments where I think that would mean giving up on things getting better. And as I write this I am thinking, "Well, why do the two have to be mutually exclusive? Can't I accept myself and strive for better?" And the answer is likely yes, but my brain has trouble with seeing the gray sometimes. Though in recent years, I am discovering (to my great awe as I spent 22 years of my life identifying solely with my mom) that I am strikingly like my father and most of this seems to be pure genetics--which is both extremely interesting to me and a little frightening since I would prefer my own kids not to have to struggle with anxiety and depression as I have had to. I am sure though, that my environment didn't help my predispositions to these things, and I hope I can at least provide some relief to my kids in that way, though some days I wonder if I am doing a good enough job.
To illustrate the difference between my old life and my life now is a text I received from my mom yesterday relaying a story of yet another altercation between her and my brother where he attacked her while she was driving over something seemingly minor and fractured her wrist in two places. I wasn't there and so I don't know the full story but does it really matter when the end result is a fractured wrist? These are the kinds of things that I used to witness growing up and just getting a text about something like this occupies my mind for days as I relive the event as if I was there, since I was there for so many times before. And I am relieved that I am separate from this now and proud that I have been strong enough to pull away for myself and my family but I am deeply sad too, as you all know, for the loss of the family I wanted to have. And as I've grown older, and maybe even from a young age, I have always known that it is hard to place fault since I understand why things have turned out the way they have and I know that I have to just accept this and move forward. And I do. I keep moving ahead, but the past trails behind me, popping up at all sorts of interesting and not so convenient times. It limits me and I don't want it to do that forever. But like someone who has been through war, my mind is wired to be hyper alert, sensitive to vulnerability, and ready for attack. The only difference being that the ones I fear, I also lived with and love with an animalistic instinct that is beyond my control.
And to tie this all back to my Imposter Syndrome, I will say that feeling like you live in a war zone, when the people who love you are also very likely to be the ones you need to fear the most, is a lonely place to live. It is hard for others to understand and even if they do, it is likely hard for them to love someone who has such a damaged approach to life. This is what I fear the most, that though I am scared to be loved too much, I will not be able to be loved at all because I am too damaged from the past and my brain and heart have been broken beyond repair. The combination of genetics and environment have taken their toll and I have worked hard to fix what I can and I will continue to do that, but will it ever be enough? Will I ever be enough? And just not enough for others, but for myself? And maybe the answer won't be a resounding, "Yes, of course you can overcome this!" but instead, a more subtle acceptance of where I have been and who I have become and the ability to let doing my best be good enough.
As I walk through my daily life, internally battling all of these things, it is hard to relate to people in a way that feels authentic. I learned early how to act "normal" but not how to feel it and so I feel perpetually scared of being found out as the imposter that I am. And more than fearing being known, I fear not being accepted once I am.
