Jack’s Out the Box
I have struggled with “imposter syndrome” for most of my adult life. Issues of identity plague most human beings in my humble yet overly educated opinion. Wikipedia defines imposter syndrome as “a psychological occurrence in which people doubt their skills, talents, or accomplishments and have a persistent internalized fear of being exposed as frauds.”
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But, there’s a twist to everything. My plot twist on imposter syndrome is that I never believed myself to be an imposter. My experience is that I chose to live in and act up and within the confines of other’s expectations. I lividly lived within the limitations of the boxes I let other people put me in. Boxes constructed with their perceptions and perspectives on who I am and what I am truly capable of.
At this point I’d usually quip about how I had no platform to explain or display or perform my genius, but that is far from true. I can admit that I have been very lazy when it comes to my art, and that’s a hard pill to swallow for someone who identifies as an artist. My new soapbox is that anybody who can’t find an appropriate form of self-expression is delusional and I am prepared to die on my newly formed hill.
I can no longer deny that I am one-half of the most tragic love story you’ve yet to hear. But seeing as my beastly Prince Charming has yet to invite me to that red carpet event coming up, mum is STILL my word. Maybe I’ll hear something when his secret squirrel stalking self sees this one.
Cheers to the start of my happiest happy ending…
