I’ve grown disturbingly comfortable with talking myself up.
I say “disturbing” because it goes against everything my inner idiot constantly mutters in the background: who cares what you think, you’re no expert and the inevitable you’re totally making this up as you go along, aren’t you?
Well, yeah, I am.
I go through the motions and try not to think about it. Fence, sew, write like I know what I’m doing to trick myself into being the expert I’m pretending to be. On very good days I believe it, but every misstep is a cue for the inner idiot to hiss in my ear again.
It’s called “impostor syndrome” and I provide no links as you all know how to Google. The job search has me bumping up against it even more than usual.
Promoting the as-yet-unfinished book (and by extension, myself) is extra practice at silencing the inner idiot so I can get through interviews without sweating through my suit.
So, as in every other facet of my life, practice makes perfect (or, at least, better). Anyone else out there feel like they’re just winging it through life? How do you get through that?