I'm kind of in awe of the article I just read in the Guardian about Impostor Syndrome, which has apparently been studied for years. I had never heard of it, but immediately identified with its subject, feeling like a fraud.
When I was moving through the ranks of business, when I was employed in that realm, no matter how many promotions I got, I felt I would never be good enough, that there was always someone better. Same with writing. I always feel like what I write is crap, and there will be someone waiting in the sidelines to write a scathing critique, and consider someone else superior. It's inescapable for me.
So, having read this article, I am finally validated in my feeling like this. I've never heard it talked about before, and now I have a starting point for researching this phenomenon of Impostor Syndrome and how it has affected my life.
Two US sociologists, Jessica Collett and Jade Avelis, wanted to know why so many female academics opt for "downshifting": setting out towards a high-status tenured post, then switching to something less ambitious. Contrary to received wisdom, their survey of 460 doctoral students revealed that it wasn't to do with wanting a "family-friendly" lifestyle. Instead, impostorism was to blame. They also uncovered a nasty irony. It's long been known that impostorism afflicts more women than men – one of many reasons that institutions match younger women academics with high-ranking female mentors. But some survey responses suggested those mentors might make things worse, because students felt like impostors compared with them. "One said she suspected her mentor was secretly Superwoman," Science Careers magazine reported. "How could she ever live up to that example?"
Philip Seymour Hoffman is one of my favorite actors. To say he was a great actor is an understatement. He was amazing. He was also human, and struggled with and was taken down by the demon of addiction. He was found in his apartment today with a needle dangling from his arm.
I don't know what to say. I really don't. Except he was not alone in his addiction or his struggle. The problem with addiction is that in the end, you do feel absolutely and disparagingly alone. I wonder what he was thinking as he pushed for the last time. I just hope and pray that the heroin took away that last bit of pain. I hope it was peaceful.
Rest in peace, Mr. Hoffman. You were loved, and it will be impossible to forget you.
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My name is Nicholas Emeigh, but everyone calls me Nick, and I prefer it. I'm usually called Nicholas when I'm in trouble. I'm from the Philadelphia area, work in business, and fancy myself as a freelance graphic designer, writer, and artist. I have a passion for art in all its forms including music, but I restrict my singing to the shower and the car for the good of society. If you'd like to know more, just send me an e-mail. I really appreciate you stopping by.