I’m good enough. So why do I feel like I’m not supposed to be here?
Approaching the art gallery, I felt stunning in my dress, which was perfectly tailored just that week. My purse was a vintage beaded heirloom I was proud of. Stepping into the scene, I felt excited. I had bought tickets to this gala and convinced my boyfriend to join me in hopes of networking both professionally and personally, looking to even potentially find new friends in a new social circle.
After moving back home, I felt stuck in a social rut. Meeting new people while working remotely poses a challenge, but I knew all it took was the right set of people to hear me out. To gather that I am, in fact, a “cool “person. Cool enough to invite out, cool enough to be at this sort of thing.
Walking through the party, searching for a face to smile at, to engage with, felt surprisingly hard? Clusters of couples and designer-studded people stared right through me. Modelesque six-foot stunning women were being followed by photographers who shooed us out of the background of their shot. Stunned, I suddenly felt a pit in my stomach. I proceeded to keep my head up, with my boyfriend in tot. All the while thinking Why didn’t I go for an edgier look? Everyone here is so fashionable. Can they tell that this dress was on sale? Do my shoes look cheap? I’m not rich enough to be here…
Living near the Hamptons can sometimes feel like a battle of the weekends. Who’s eating at the latest hot spot, who’s going to the latest pop-up, who’s tagging their location on Instagram at the new boutique hotel in Sag Harbor. The constant threat of inferiority can consume you and it can slowly eat away at both your confidence and your self-assurance. Those WHAT IFS & WHYS pop up like thought bubbles above your head. Silently, you hope no one can read them.
Being from an average middle-class family, this sort of thing didn’t affect me much growing up. All the families in town were low-key and not fussy, even if they had money. I felt secure. I grew up by the beach and went to a good summer camp, I always got a new I-phone. I had everything I needed.
It wasn’t until I went to college and could see how other people grew up that I started to feel differently about my situation. I felt intimidated by the girls with Goyard totes, who spent winter break partying in St Barth, and had a British accent to boot. Kids who went to a 40k-a-year preparatory high school. I felt like I shouldn’t be associated with these people and at the same time, I felt sad that it wasn’t me who had these experiences.
It was starting to click. It’s IMPOSTER SYNDROME. Defined as an internal experience of believing that you are not as competent as others perceive you to be as if you are a fraud. Was I a fraud to be at this school? In this sorority? Do people see through me? Do I look stupid wearing this? Whether it’s real-life situations or through the comparison beast of social media, there is so much room nowadays for these unwanted feelings to creep into your sphere.
SO WHAT CAN YOU DO ABOUT IT?
Next time you feel that way, take these steps:
1. Identify The Feeling. Call it out. “This is my imposter syndrome talking”
2. Take A Step Back. Remove yourself from the situation. If you can’t exactly leave, excuse yourself from the table or conversation and have 5 mins to gather yourself.
3. Remind Yourself. Remember all that you have in your life, is just enough. You are no better and no worse than anyone else. We all exist in this world equally. One person’s success is not your loss and there will ALWAYS be enough to go around.
The pill can be harder to swallow for some than it is for others, but the fact of the matter is, that we can only control our own circumstances. It might feel like life is not fair, and perhaps it just isn’t. As I get older, I am re-learning how fantastic it is to just be ME. How lucky I am for all that I have in my own life and how cheering someone else on doesn’t mean that same praise can’t float my way too.
We can sit and pout in the corner of the party or we can accept the way things are and dance the night away.
I can gladly say, though my experience might not have been what I had hoped for, I spent the evening not giving a damn.
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