Fighting The Imposter

 January of 2023 can be summed up in two words: Imposter Syndrome.

The beginning of the calendar year is always a battle. This year has actually been better than usual. The winter has been much warmer and gentler, and getting outside is so important for maintaining good mental health.

Even so, it's been a bit rough. Every year has been improving, so I am hopeful that I'll have an even, calm January at some point. It's definitely getting closer.

I had such lofty hopes this year. I always do. This year I did better with that, too, but I once again did not consider my January struggles when making my plans. 

Anyway, back to the Imposter.

One of my plans for the very start of the year was a virtual 5k for a group that I have been chosen to be an ambassador for in 2023. It's called Still I Run, and it's all about using running to help manage mental health. Part of being an ambassador is posting about how I use running to handle my own challenges. I was so excited to be selected. I'd been following SIR for a year, and it's a really positive and uplifting nonprofit. I planned to run the race on the 1st and post pictures of the medal and the sweet headband that came with registration.

Then the Imposter snuck in. 

I'd been dealing with it for a while already, but it was focused solely on my writing career until January. This time of year is full of messages of weight loss and self loathing, and my defenses were down. I was distracted by writing and had become too comfortable in my new healthier relationship with food and body image. 

January 1st came and went. I didn't do the race. I didn't post about my new ambassador status. I barely ran. I just avoided it all. Running (and really all physical activities) have a lot of complicated emotions attached, and I am still working on believing in my own worthiness and abilities. I told myself I would do it some time during January and write a post about just needing a couple weeks to get the year started.

January came and went. I didn't run a 5k. I didn't post anything. I didn't earn the medal that was sitting on my desk staring accusingly at me every day. Honestly, by the end of January, I was convinced I might be done running. I was definitely not able to help anyone else when I couldn't even make myself run a 5k. I planned on writing to Still I Run and giving up my ambassadorship. I was a complete phony, and I had decided to stop pretending.

But, if I have learned nothing else from therapy, I have learned that my brain is often very, very wrong. I wasn't given the correct information growing up. I've had to question everything I ever accepted as truth, and I've found a lot of it to be complete fabrication. 

I've been thinking a lot about the stories we tell ourselves - and the ones others place on us. I've learned that the roles and limitations given to me are not necessarily mine to carry. But, I have to choose to put them down. I have to learn how to believe something else.

One story I have always had is that I am fat and unathletic. I am not a runner. I can't run.

Only one of these things is true. I am fat. There's been a lot of contributing factors, but I'm so sick of discussing it. It's not worth my time and energy. The thing that has changed about this is that I no longer hate myself for it. I don't hate fatness. I see the beauty in all sizes. I am even beginning to see it in myself. Something I have never been able to do - not even at my thinnest. 

The rest of it is completely false. Stories fed to me by others. Maybe they thought it was for the best. I doubt it, but maybe. Whatever the reasons, it made an indelible impression. One that had ruined quite a few things in my life.

The truth is, I love running. Then I feel like I shouldn't because I am "not a runner." I shouldn't be allowed to love it. Or even say I do it. 

I let this story steal a lot from me. The thing I regret is not celebrating or appreciating the marathon I ran. I had so many reasons that it wasn't good enough, and I didn't let myself appreciate the fact that I ran/walked 26.2 miles as well as all the training leading up to it. Now that I want to start distance running again (and I am much older), I can see how much work I did and how impressed I should have been. But, I have never allowed myself to succeed in any way. It makes me sad when I think about it too much.

So, it took me 37 days to get started, but I am ready to take on this year. I am going to allow myself to enjoy things and celebrate the smallest victories. I am going to give myself a break and just try to enjoy my pursuits. I'm going to continue to fight the Imposter.