Will the Real Me Please Stand Up?

Reading Amy Cuddy's book 'Presence, Bringing Your Boldest Self to Your Biggest Challenges' I was reminded about something I try to forget: Imposter Syndrome.

The feeling that you've lucked out, not earned your success. That you are holding a spot until the really deserving people come around. If people only knew the real you then they would take back all your shiny-pretties and toss you on your ear.

Sure, you're not like that every day. But maybe you, like me, know the feeling. It's more common to hear women discuss it than men, but Cuddy has found that both genders struggle with feelings of being found out as fake.

Cuddy has a lot of good things to say about imposter syndrome and several suggestions for breaking free from it. She talks about body language, 'manspreading', testosterone, and cortisol. Two things, in particular, stood out for me.

The first was the story of a woman that told Cuddy that she had teachers tell her she was lucky to be in their classes. Lucky to be a student because she was likely to fail. Even though the woman went on to grad school and became a teacher herself she was always waiting to be found out. Their comments hit her deep, deep inside. Words are like that. Perhaps unintentionally, words can water that thing coiled in our most secret places and call it out into bloom. Sometimes it's glorious and bears fruit. Sometimes it's sickly and slowly poisons us.

I remember that happening to me.

A senior coworker was assigned to mentor me in a new job and gave me a, perhaps to her, motivational talk. My position was a trial one and she was 'coaching me' to get results. Her idea of coaching was to ask me questions.

What if the job wasn't permanent? What if I failed?

What would I do? Who, she said, would want to hire ME?

I can feel the sharp sting to this day. Somewhere between slap and slush hitting my face, the words had such a slicing power. I wasn't new to the company, I had good results and fine relationships with others. Was reasonably talented.

From that moment on, though, I was sure the invisible eye, the one that she obviously knew of, was watching me. Waiting to swoop in when I made the fatal mistake what that may be.

I wasn't strong enough to not believe her. My weakness damaged me. I second-guessed myself. Then third-guessed. Worked around and against my instincts. Looked to become someone I really wasn't. Forgot that I was doing what I was doing because I was good at doing it.

I allowed those questions to grind me down instead of sharpening me. It was MY choice, my actions, my weakness. It took me a long time to realize that it wasn't, not really, my truth.

Know what is and isn't your truth. Dig it up. Find it. Define it for yourself. Know your strengths and do more of them. Know your weakness and work to make them stronger. And love yourself for both.

If only I would have treated myself then with the same compassion I would have shown a friend had they told me about the same type of 'coaching. I would have told that friend of her innate good qualities. I'd have pointed out her true successes. I'd have advised forgiveness and compassion. I did none of that.

If I had known my own truth I would have walked tall, not with an inner flinch and scurry. I'd have owned my inner fierceness. I could have turned it into fuel to prove her wrong. To show my worth.

I might even have revealed my inner warrior. That's the second thing that stood out sharply to me in Cuddy's book: the lesson of the haka. Cuddy described the haka ceremony of New Zealand performed by the All Blacks at their rugby matches. Maybe you've seen it? It looks like a war dance. Full of fast motions, shouts, grimaces. It's a startling display of power and triumph as well as a display of compassion and respect.

It's a ritual that celebrates. It's raw. It's life. It's presence. Not an imposter. It's all things real. Truth on display, sure and certain of the worth of the people.

How would your day change if you started it with half that much energy? How would your next presentation go if you performed a little haka in the restroom first? If you think that will alarm those around you then how about some mental self-talk reminding you of your truth, power, and presence?

It will help the real you stand up. Boldly and with true presence, secure in your truth.

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