The evening plodded along, minutes gradually blending together to make up the last few hours of a long day. I collapsed onto the couch after running the dishwasher and folding the now-clean laundry. I began scrolling through social media, ignoring the hour and the fact that my time would be better spent showering and going to sleep.
My eyes began glazing over slightly, skimming words and scanning faces as fatigue continued its offensive on my body. My vision sharpened into focus when certain names flashed across the screen and I consumed a few sentences of the posts before moving on.
I stopped swiping at a post from a dad I had met at Dad 2.0 and whose work I’d admired for some time.
“Warning,” it began. “This is verbose and heavy, but it’s time to unload some thoughts.”
I sat up straighter and tapped “Continue Reading.”
He wasn’t lying; it was long, so much so that I hesitated to read the post so late at night. But I saw the first few sentences reference social media posting, self-criticism and fluctuating levels of self-esteem. I knew the writer and the topics so I decided I was in it for the long haul.
The similarities between us were stark. We had both cultivated online personalities through our writing and we both focused a lot on communication and relationships. We were both fathers, of course, and professional educators, though his position was much more formal than mine.
Most importantly, we both struggled heavily with the gaps between our outward personas and our internally flawed egos.
I saw myself in his ongoing efforts to conceal his personal imperfections, to maintain his “thick veneer of success” and to hide the fear he feels so frequently inside. I recognized the penchant for ignoring praises about a post or class and focusing on an isolated negative phrase. I identified with his description of a scared little boy fighting to stay afloat as waves of expectations tossed him about at sea.
As I finished, I thought of the podcast I’d listened to earlier in the day. The episode focused on the similarities between the United States’ historical connection to slavery and Germany’s historical connection to the Holocaust. They were much larger-scale issues, to be sure, than my personal struggles with self-doubt. But the host finished the episode by recounting a recent meeting with her family and resolving not to allow a similar situation in the future.
“It’s important to share the times we get things wrong,” she said, “because next time we might get it right.”
Her words resonated from a place of political reflection; the phrase “Never Forget” is a familiar refrain to Jews and students of the Holocaust. But macro-level concepts always originate on a micro-scale and her comment was no exception. While it is critical for us to analyze our previous mistakes to avoid repeating them, the practice applies beyond looking only into the past.
My friend published his post as a component of his own soul-searching but he made the post (largely) public. He could have let the ink dry in his Moleskine, closed the cover and left the notebook in his desk drawer, never to see the light of day. Instead, he typed up his thoughts and shared them on the internet. Not only would his words never be out of the light of day, they were suddenly added to the permanent archives of cyberspace.
And he did so on purpose.
Meta-imposter syndrome: When you know a lot of people have imposter syndrome, but you've witnessed how competent they are. So they're not like you, the real imposter.
— Martin (@mshelton) June 17, 2019
My friend knew that he was not the only person to suffer from impostor syndrome. He knew that other people were suffering from the same negative thoughts, hearing the same critical voices and carrying the same emotional baggage. He put his feelings out into the ether as a way to will his desire for peace into existence, but also to “give others permission to do the same.”
I recognized my friend’s efforts to help me feel more comfortable peeling back my proverbial curtain, even if he didn’t have me in mind when he wrote about himself. I welcomed yet another companion in the search to overcome my own inner criticisms and appreciated being able to point to someone else going through similar experiences.
I’ve written a number of times about airing my vulnerabilities to the world, both here on the blog and on social media. I choose these topics intentionally to help parents realize that they are not the only ones struggling; to help normalize speaking about life circumstances that are more than what they seem online; and to further the process of redefining masculinity as more than the rugged, stoic men who suffer in silence.
It’s never easy to shed the burdens that we carry individually. Hopefully, talking about those burdens more frequently will attract others who can help us lighten those loads.
I left my friend anonymous here but he knew I was writing this post and consented to my sharing pieces of his material.
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