Imposter Syndrome - Tumblr Posts
Art is so cool because no matter how good you are or how many people tell you you're amazing you're still not Good Enough!!
a collection of motivational insights regarding content creation and creative hobbies
and of course the classic
*Me, looking at the PSTD symptoms*
*ticks everything in some capacity*
"...I'm sure I'm making it up- what if it's not enough— shitshitshit-"
Silly, I don't have imposter syndrome, that would imply that I am actually good at something.
On Thursday one of the local cops called my wife and asked if we could foster four abandoned puppies. They were maybe a couple of hours old. I don't want to go into a lot of detail because it's bleak stuff and the internet has enough of that.
A ton of people pulled together and my wife and I have kept these pups alive successfully for the past three days. There is a shelter who will take them once they eat solid food. Which is at about 2 weeks of age.
And like we'll do it because we have to, because they are totally helpless creatures. I am not taking credit for our mercy. My wife said we'd foster without telling me first. I got kind of mad at the time, but I got over it pretty quickly because. Well. Again, there was nobody else. Every single foster home in our area is filled to bursting with abandoned and stray animals. WE'RE overfull on abandoned animals because no one will take the ones we've got.
We're exhausted because they have to get fed every 3 hours. They only learned how to latch onto the bottle today. So the first two nights, their feedings took well over an hour. We woke up after three hours and then lost over an hour of sleep. This is the kind of thing I'd bounce back from easily when I was a younger man. 41 is much less forgiving of an age.
I feel like my head is wrapped in steel wool sometimes. Like I'm blinking through it.
We lit Shabbat candles and then went on working because now there's a grand total of thirteen animals in the house so there can't be a single day off. Had to keep doing laundry because the pups go through so much and they make innocent messes so we have to change our clothes more. On and on.
The cops found someone else in the village, I think, who will take them for a couple of days. They'll have to because we have a hate crimes case in a few days. I can't even mentally prepare for that because of the pups.
They are so small. The heftiest one weighs 253 grams/9 ounces. The smallest weighs 185 grams/6.5 ounces. They are so incredibly delicate and I feel shitty for feeling tired.
I feel guilty. I know it's all necessary for their health but I skipped my intro to Judaism class (feeding what was probably their first meal ever) and I keep missing the counting of the omer calls and I missed kabbalat shabbat and I'm totally unprepared for my Hebrew class tomorrow and I'm just a big falling-behind wreck. And it's been three days. They must be here for two weeks. We can't fall behind but we can't keep up. And asking for help is tricky when you have imposter syndrome and feel like asking anyone for help is like getting stabbed.
I have no ending to this post.
They are just as tired as we are.
They're all starting to thrive.
Their tiny whiskers are beginning to come in.
On Thursday one of the local cops called my wife and asked if we could foster four abandoned puppies. They were maybe a couple of hours old. I don't want to go into a lot of detail because it's bleak stuff and the internet has enough of that.
A ton of people pulled together and my wife and I have kept these pups alive successfully for the past three days. There is a shelter who will take them once they eat solid food. Which is at about 2 weeks of age.
And like we'll do it because we have to, because they are totally helpless creatures. I am not taking credit for our mercy. My wife said we'd foster without telling me first. I got kind of mad at the time, but I got over it pretty quickly because. Well. Again, there was nobody else. Every single foster home in our area is filled to bursting with abandoned and stray animals. WE'RE overfull on abandoned animals because no one will take the ones we've got.
We're exhausted because they have to get fed every 3 hours. They only learned how to latch onto the bottle today. So the first two nights, their feedings took well over an hour. We woke up after three hours and then lost over an hour of sleep. This is the kind of thing I'd bounce back from easily when I was a younger man. 41 is much less forgiving of an age.
I feel like my head is wrapped in steel wool sometimes. Like I'm blinking through it.
We lit Shabbat candles and then went on working because now there's a grand total of thirteen animals in the house so there can't be a single day off. Had to keep doing laundry because the pups go through so much and they make innocent messes so we have to change our clothes more. On and on.
The cops found someone else in the village, I think, who will take them for a couple of days. They'll have to because we have a hate crimes case in a few days. I can't even mentally prepare for that because of the pups.
They are so small. The heftiest one weighs 253 grams/9 ounces. The smallest weighs 185 grams/6.5 ounces. They are so incredibly delicate and I feel shitty for feeling tired.
I feel guilty. I know it's all necessary for their health but I skipped my intro to Judaism class (feeding what was probably their first meal ever) and I keep missing the counting of the omer calls and I missed kabbalat shabbat and I'm totally unprepared for my Hebrew class tomorrow and I'm just a big falling-behind wreck. And it's been three days. They must be here for two weeks. We can't fall behind but we can't keep up. And asking for help is tricky when you have imposter syndrome and feel like asking anyone for help is like getting stabbed.
I have no ending to this post.
god help me i cant even edit a resume without cringing at myself/.
Every thing i add onto the page makes my mind go "do you really have that skill tho?". yes sweetie i do. i must. how can i be coding in java for 5 years and not be sure if i know java?
my personality is so manufactured. i own none of it. my handwriting comes from the girl i sat next to in fourth grade, my sense of humor comes from my best friend in third grade, the way i sit comes from the lead character in a movie i once watched, the way i type comes from one of my classmates in sixth grade…. am i not allowed to have something to myself? am i not allowed to be someone?
*slamming head against the wall* why. is. everyone's. art. and. fanfic. so. much. fucking. better. than. mineeee. :'l
This is how I feel right now:
I should use this mindset more
is this something
This is some old vent art I made about burnout, and feeling like I had to entertain others. I realize now that friendship is a two-way street, and that I'm not supposed to be someone else's toy or pet. I am a human being. To whoever's reading this: you are also a human being, and you are loved ❤️❤️❤️
you know what’s wild is that all these crazy standards we hold ourselves to are things that we don’t even value in another person? like i’ve never been like “wow I love that this friend of mine is too proud to ask for help and never complains about their feelings” or “my favorite quality about this friend is that they get straight A’s and never get overwhelmed and has never told me about a problem” or “i love that this friend has never been wrong about anything or slipped up and said something embarrassing once in their life” and yet here we are, pushing ourselves past our limits for and beating ourselves up over slipups of things that our friends probably wouldn’t even rank in the top 50 reasons they like us
I strive to come across as poised But i fear that i never shall
my mind it shall not stop its nonsensical ramblings on and on it goes about one thing or another to silence it is something that i would be willing to die for for it has been years since i have known any peace.
i always feel so lost distracted while longing for success suffocated by this pressure to be perfect that can never be relieved i fear that it shall be what kills me in the end these days the only thing that comes naturally to me is my words but i never have the strength to put ink to paper i want to live without this shame and guilt but i doubt such a day will come.
i want nothing but beauty to spill onto this page yet i cannot. i am no brilliant writer i am merely a girl.
i am hungry. perhaps i will starve.
people always think that i am faking it
something i had never considered
yet they seem to claim it regardless
i have thought of telling them otherwise
but they would never believe me.
how could you possibly
be so blind
to what you have done
to me?
***
how could i possibly
be so blond
to what you have done
for me?