I’m Waging an Official War Against Imposter Syndrome

Gillian Sisley

From behaving like a greedy toddler to locking me in its dark dungeon, I’m over this bullsh*t that is a foreign entity trying to discredit my success.

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Image by Jonny Lindner from Pixabay

Imposter syndrome is something I am ever aware of.

It exists with a lively nature in my life.

I’m a woman, and I’m an entrepreneur and I am experiencing success in my business.

I might as well have a billboard sitting right above my head for Imposter Syndrome to find me a little bit faster, and just get it over with.

Since I’ve started to reach moderate success in my online writing through daily personal essays, that all-to-familiar Imposter Syndrome is creeping its claws into this part of my life as well, trying to convince me that I’m a fraud even though I have a world of evidence to disprove that face.

It’s wrapping its skeletal hands around my aspirations and dreams in an effort to suffocate the life out of them until they wither away and die.

Because we just can’t have nice things, apparently.

Imposter Syndrome needs souls to feed on to stay alive.

Passion for what you’re doing is like a drop of blood in shark-infested waters. It calls to Imposter Syndrome directly to you and approaches you in“attack mode”.

And you know what? I’m f*cking tired of it!

I’m waging war against my Imposter Syndrome, and I’ll be dead before I let it claim me as its own for good.

So put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Fraudulent feelings and sketchy dealings.

In all other aspects of my life, I’m used to battling Imposter Syndrome.

In my business? Old news. Imposter Syndrome is basically my business partner. It’s so normal and prevalent that it’s almost boring.

I don’t listen much to it now. It’s more like an annoying side-kick who always get themselves into trouble, but just won’t be written out of the comic because the artist thinks they bring some excitement and drama to the storyline.

But imposter syndrome in my writing? No, no no no.

Stay away from my writing. F*ck, you literally exist in everything else in my life!

You use my trauma-based anxiety as a weapon against me on the daily, and have been trying to sabotage me my entire career.

I swear, Imposter Syndrome, the day you tried to slither your way into my writing will be a day you will forever regret for the rest of your existence.

Mark my damn words.

You’re like a greedy, selfish toddler and you frustrate me to no end.

I love kids. But you, Imposter Syndrome, I don’t love you.

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Photo by Shitota Yuri on Unsplash

You remind me of that toddler who is given no boundaries by their parents and just rules the roost as they chuckle about how darn tootin’ cute you are.

When in reality? It’s like we’re both in daycare and you want everything I have, even though you’re already spoiled with anything and everything by your misguided parents.

You probably have five of the toy I’m holding. But simply because I have it, you want it for yourself.

And fighting you off from stealing my sh*t takes a lot of energy out of me.

Seriously Imposter Syndrome, why are you not satisfied with already hijacking and trying to create havoc in the rest of my career? Why do you follow me to the places I’m most passionate about at any given moment?

You’re the epitome of a greedy toddler. You want the most coveted thing to wrap your grimy, chubby hands around and squeeze the life out of it.

For those of us who say, “Fine, whatever” and find another toy to enjoy, your greedy eyes immediately land on that new toy, which wasn’t so exciting a second ago, but in the hands of another enjoying it, while you can’tyou must have it for yourself.

That picture frustrates me to no end!

So, how do I combat you, Imposter Syndrome? Do I try to pretend I’m miserable with this new thing I actually secretly enjoy, so that you think you’ve won and leave me alone?

WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME!?

I’m DONE being your victim.

You’re an entitled little shit and I have no energy or patience in dealing with you anymore.

I don’t exactly know how to banish you immediately, but I will toil and work my a** off until I can boot you out of my life for good.

You may be very skilled in the art of manipulation and condescension, but I can guarantee I will outwork your efforts Every. F*cking. Time.

I will never stop fighting you and disproving you and getting back up every time you knock me on my a**.

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Photo by Miguel Bruna on Unsplash

Because I deserve to be here.

Because I’ve worked my a** off to be here.

And you’re not the dictator of who is deserving and who is not to operate in this space.

In a world where hard work rules and dedication is king, your foundation is a cloud of smoke and you have nothing to stand on.

I am waging a war against you with my fellow writers and fellow entrepreneurs and fellow women.

We will not be your infinite prisoners.

We will keep escaping you and conducting breakout operations and rescuing each other from your dungeon cells.

You may temporarily take our freedom, but you will not take our lives.

They’re ours, we will keep fighting for them, and we will beat you.

That is my promise to you, starting today.

Scared? You should be.

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Online solopreneur. Tea drinker. Committed optimist. I write about trending news, funny viral content, and anything else that tickles my fancy!

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