I am here to succeed in a space where I can freely express and grow my characters and talents. For my talents and capabilities exist beyond college, no matter what opinions are shared. What matters is this passion, and the creative impulse to just do what is needed.
I enjoyed every moment of it. Well, except for the part when I tripped on a city crosswalk, sprained my knee, broke a favorite charm, and had to hobble around and not go to the National Aquarium. That part sucked.
When I returned home to my work and writing. Why are you here?
And indeed. Why am I here?
Now, I could list my academic merits for writing and performing. I could reiterate a plethora of stories and epics that I can weave from the simplest of dreams. Or pontificate on the idea of leaving a legacy or impression on my niece and nephews.
But that is not at the very core of My Why.
At the center of my vacation, was my partner's brother graduating from law school. His girlfriend has a doctorate in Physical Therapy. We were sitting in an old, historical theater surrounded by people who I thought were better than me.
The Keynote Speaker was an alumna, woc, in the profession for over 25 years and now CEO of a sports union. But the heart of her speech was something that pierced right through me.
Imposter Syndrome. That... fucking sensation of always feeling like the smallest person at the table. That thought process that I am not enough. Will never be pretty enough, smart enough, wise enough, funny enough, strong enough, vulnerable enough, enough, enough, enough...
Why am I here? I am here because I belong in this space. I believe that I am a good writer. That despite what I think of myself sometimes, or what others think I can or cannot do, I believe that I have the ability and capability to complete my own stories.
I am here to prove to myself that I do believe in me. That by doing the little things, by letting myself be slightly uncomfortable in some situations (one-shot podcast recordings) and rigid in others (maintaining mental and time boundaries) I can, and I will accomplish what I put my mind to.
And I know deep down, that lucky charm was a token containing a magical thought. One that I knew, but afraid to admit or claim.
I make my own luck. I am lucky because I shifted my mind to look for opportunities, to see the good and the bad. I choose optimism because I know how pervasive pesimissism infects and agitates my mental health issues.
I am here because I know I can succeed. I know what I need to do. I don't need permission from others. I don't need to outsource opinions from friends and family.
I am here to succeed in a space where I can freely express and grow my characters and talents. For my talents and capabilities exsist beyond college, no matter what opinions are shared. What matters is this passion, and the creative impulse to just do what is needed.
And because, frankly, there will be plenty of times where I feel more of an imposter, a fool, a flake, or maybe the next failure story. It is during those times that I need that outside perspective (perhaps crave it even). If lawyers, ceos, authors, celebrities, all sorts of people struggle with Imposter Syndrome, then perhaps, I do fit in that auditorium after all.