on imposter syndrome
I was connecting with one of my students yesterday about “imposter syndrome.” And as we all chimed in with our own personal experiences, it seemed as though every single one of us had felt it one way or the other.
When I first started teaching yoga, I was terrified. Put me in front of more than three people and I’d feel myself leaving my body. Shaky, blurry, heart racing out of control. I would even zip a hoodie up to my collarbones in a hot yoga studio so you couldn’t see red splotches on my chest.
I was always looking for someone to tell me I was doing it right. For years and years. Forget if I’d asked myself I even liked the way the person taught yoga or moved through the world.
Oooof.
I landed on a couple things that really helped me. Helped me stay my course, keep my eyes to my own path and learn how to do it my way.
I learned that “fear is excitement without breath.” Let’s put your terrified ass onto a stage in front of a few thousand people and then stop breathing. Yeah, that doesn’t help one bit. So I learned to channel what I was calling fear into excitement. I had butterflies because I cared. Huge shift for me.
Another thing I say to myself often is “I will not abandon you.” I will not abandon what I know to be true for me to people please my way into grace with someone else. I will not abandon my body when the butterflies appear or my breathing gets shallow. I say it when I walk into a yoga space, onto a stage, into a party, you name it. And I didn’t abandon myself or apologize when I ate a huge burger (like double patty huge) in front of everyone after a Yoga Journal shoot.
And experience. Time after time I learned that I could do something scary and vulnerable and I wouldn’t die. Not only that but I’d feel wildly alive and aligned afterward. Hence why I stayed the path.
Imposter syndrome sneaks up, no doubt. But I remember that in this lifetime, my work is to discover my way, my path, my unique expression and dance with those butterflies in my tummy and question the doubts in my head.
Embodied — deeply present for direct experience.
All of it.
