@bethvogt
This was my friend Jenny’s text to me yesterday morning at 6:12 a.m.: In life, and perhaps you overcame this, who did you believe you had to be accepted and/or approved by?
By the way, good morning.
My reply: Oh my word! Do you want an alphabetical list?
Jenny and I have conversations like this. All the time. Sometimes by the time we’ve exhausted ourselves verbally, we’ve solved, well, not the world’s problems, but whatever problem is bothering us most at that particular moment.
Wanting the approval and acceptance of others? That can be a lifelong struggle.
When I shared Jenny’s early morning text asking approval and acceptance, did you remember someone’s name? See someone’s face?
If so, you know exactly what we’re talking about.
And then I answered Jenny’s question – again – with another question: Have you ever heard of imposter syndrome?
Have you, my friends?
Loosely defined, imposter syndrome is when someone doubts their success and feels like a fraud. This person is fearful her colleagues in the same field of expertise – music or writing or engineering or education – will realize she’s a fake. The other professionals deserve the attention, the awards, the accolades … but she does not.
Consider this interesting point: A sufferer of imposter syndrome is usually a high achieving individual – and yet, she thinks she excelled by chance. Her greatest fear? That everyone else will figure out she doesn’t belong at the professional conference or on stage accepting an award, or sitting in the church pew holding a Bible.
Ironic, isn’t it, that achievements create feelings of fraudulence.
Lurking behind imposter syndrome is the desire for acceptance, the longing for approval, all mixed up with the lie we deserve to be rejected.
But we believe the lie is true.
We turn to others for reassurance. We turn to things – awards, more achievements – to affirm us. We wait … and wait … and wait for that certain someone to give us their stamp of approval.
Here’s where I could tell you about how many years I believed the word “beautiful” didn’t apply to me.
I could tell you how I understand – to the very core of my being – what it’s like to stand in the room with other writers I love and respect and think, “I’m a fraud.”
And how my eyes burned with tears as I typed those words.
But let’s be honest with one another, my friends. Many of you have thought that too.
The only thing we can do … the best thing we can do … is replace the lie we believe with the truth. Stop waiting for someone’s – or everyone’s – approval or acceptance.
Me? I spent an entire year of my life leaning into God’s love. I wrote in my journal: I need to know You love me, God. I need to feel it.
Opening my heart and mind more and more to that Truth has helped me turn away from many lies I used to believe – and it helps me choose to believe I’m not an imposter, too.
'You doubt your value. Don't run from who you are.' Quote by Aslan in the movie The Voyage of the Dawn Treader https://bit.ly/2N1j2Zm #doubt #confidence Share on X Choosing to Believe I'm not an Imposter https://bit.ly/2N1j2Zm #choices #impostersyndrome Share on X
Comments 14
Yes! I have started to see the lies—especially the one, “it’s for them, not for me,” and “you’re too old.”
I went to a Barnes and Nobles two days ago, and it was, “why even bother?”
Joy-rob. That’s what these lies do. Thank you for speaking them out and away, Beth.
Author
Renee: Oh the discouragement hidden in the words, “Why even bother?” Rather that walking into B&N and wanting to walk back out, go to the shelf that one day will hold your book — or books — and whisper, “Here. Right here.” Believe the dream. And then go and celebrate your author-friends whose books are already on the shelves. Snap a photo of of you holding one of their books and send it to them — you’ll make their day! By the way, I visited your website and I love it. And I’m now following you on IG.
An exceptional post and an important needed concept. Thanks for putting a name on it, Beth. Seeing enemies clearly helps them be defeated.
Author
Dee: I love this line: “Seeing enemies clearly helps them be defeated.” You are so wise, my friend.
An impostor? Yeah, that’s me,
I skip from rock to rock
‘cross the River of reality,
and hope my glib bright talk
can fool the ones that pay heed
to what I have to say,
but always, now, I feel the need
to up and slip away
before they all can realize
that my greatest skill
is with words to temporize
my emptiness until
I can find an open door
before they find I’ve nothing more.
Author
Andrew: You captured the concept of imposter syndrome beautifully — or should I say so glibly — with your words.
And I know — we all do — that you are the real deal, sir. The real deal.
Wow, Beth. That really rings true…I’ve often felt like an imposter, about to be unmasked. Thank you for identifying the lie and for the encouragement to defeat it.
Author
Jane: I’m thankful you were encouraged, friend. You are not an imposter. You are loved and valued. Valuable. Redeemed. Chosen. Beautiful.
Ahhh, Beth. I loved, LOVED this post. Your honesty and the absolute truths you shared here had me nodding my head. Both to the shared experience of feeling like a fraud (MANY times) and to the truth that we are deeply loved by God. I’m finding that the more I live into the truth, the more I am able to see the value He’s placed on me and in me.
Author
Jeanne: You know what helps me? Linking arms with a trusted friend and leaning into the Truth together. Thank you for being that kind of friend.
I’m living that right now.
Author
Denise: I hope you find freedom from this, my friend.
I understand completely. I have spent my life feeling this way.
I first wanted my father’s approval. Which I felt I had to earn. Then a first husband. Others after that.
I had a wonderful 2nd husband that I knew loved and accepted me but could never understand why.
Interesting that I have not doubted God’s love. I believe with all my heart that He does and His is the best.
Author
Sandy: It’s so wonderful you’ve never doubted God’s love. Our view of God can so often be skewed by our relationship with our earthly fathers.