Pinocchio, revisited.

 For whatever reason I feel so much lately that I am pretending to be a real boy. Pretending that I can do what I do; that I can be who I am pretending to be. Absent in my own presence. Insubstantial. As if I could stop moving and once time catches up to me I could just be gone. That is all I do. Wait for the other card to be played, for the other boot to drop. Wait for someone else to tell me how I failed.

All I did was fail today

All I wanna be is whites and waves

All I did was fail today (“All We Do” - Oh Wonder)

I have been looking for friends I used to have. People I used to know. People who used to know me. They do not appear to see me anymore. Dream-like they move away when I reach for them. They do not reach for me. Also like dreams, the bad (or not so good ones) they only seem to come at me if I have something they need. I am not threatened by them. Merely something to be used. Disposable. Invisible until or unless needed. Mr. Cellophane. 

When you start to look deeply at yourself, it is so easy to see only the negative. The problem with someone struggling with imposter syndrome is that the negative is the only real part. Any successes are fleeting. That is why so many who struggle with this are always looking for that next success, that next achievement. Capturing the next possible “Atta Boy/Girl” to remind you that you in fact can do. It is just that it will not last. It is not felt as valid. 

And when you are invisible, alone, you find ways to tell yourself “Atta Boy”. Eat the stuff. Buy the thing. Look, a sparkly! And then you get it (whatever “it” is) and you feel the guilt of getting it (Do I need it, do I deserve it?) and then you realize that it really is not the achievement that you needed. You failed again. That does not mean you will not do it again. And probably again.

Two steps forward and three steps back. Waiting for the other boot to fall.