That problem is an ability to convincingly rationalize nearly anything….But I think Impostor Syndrome is valuable. The people with Impostor Syndrome are the people who *aren’t* sure that a logical proof of their smartness is sufficient. They’re looking around them and finding something wrong, an intuitive sense that around here, logic does not always agree with reality, and the obviously right solution does not lead to obviously happy customers, and it’s unsettling because maybe smartness isn’t enough, and maybe if we don’t feel like we know what we’re doing, it’s because we don’t.
Impostor Syndrome is that voice inside you saying that not everything is as it seems, and it could all be lost in a moment. The people with the problem are the people who can’t hear that voice.
"I love coffee. I sometimes get excited at night thinking of the coffee I’ll get to drink in the morning. Coffee is reason to wake up. There are other reasons, of course. But coffee is the incentive, at the very least."
“I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.” —Raymond Carver, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love
Words do not describe what reading Raymond Carver–especially this story–taught me about writing.
Self-deprecation is often our way of apologizing in advance. If we make sure that everyone else knows that WE know that there is something wrong with us, so we don’t have to worry about what they think of us. We’ve already told them what to think of us.
We warn people so they aren’t disappointed. We apologize for who and what we are. Obviously nobody would like us if they discovered the ugly things about us on their own, so we make sure they know ahead of time. That way we don’t get attached only to have them leave us…
Because we are ashamed of who we are, we assume others will feel the same way, so we apologize again and again.