The dreaded imposter syndrome.

The dreaded imposter syndrome.

Not good enough. My stuff is shit.  People are making a fool of me by encouraging me.  I’m so embarrassed. I want to hide.  People must pity me.  This stuff is garbage and I should just quit. 

This is my brain, the night before my proof affirmation cards are supposed to arrive.  I am inconsolable and my husband is trying to comfort me by actually being EXCITED.  If I weren’t in the midst of an emotional torrent, he would be laughing.  “Don’t you see it?  This is the breakdown before the breakthrough!” 

Ok, maybe that’s true (time will tell that story), but right now I want to literally crawl under a rock.  I had no idea that I was THIS afraid. I’ve put my art out there-without any real negative response, surprisingly.  I’ve bared that part of me before.  Yes, it was scary, but not like TRUE FEAR. Not like what I'm feeling now.  Definitely not enough to bring me to tears. 

It’s different this time.  I’m going to put my affirmation cards and art out there for a shopping event one of my friends has pulled together. What if no one buys my stuff?  Or (worst case scenario for any artist) what if no one says anything about my stuff?  

I’m looking for signs everywhere to get reassurance.  I’m seeing 1111s and 2222s everywhere in the week leading up to the sale.  So I ask to see a 555 the next day, just to get quadruple-confirmation that I’m really supposed to be painting.

The next day, I connect with Emily and we message back and forth.  She has so much to say to me–it flows out of her.  She just “clear-channels” that shit and out it comes.  “This is BIG.  This is legit.  This is happening and we are safe. We are in alignment and doing what we are meant to. There is no lack, only abundance.”

By the time my cards arrive later in the day, I’m scared to see them, to hold them in my hands.  I get into the package, hands shaking and I uncover them.  They are beautiful.  Relief washes over me as I read the affirmations I wrote with my heart.  I KNOW that other people need to hear this!  I KNOW that “I am whole, complete, and perfect” in this moment. 

And later that night, when I glance at a timer set for pizza in the oven, i get it: 5:55.  

Trust, my friend.  The ONLY option is to trust.