Here's the thing: on feeling a fraud

I’ll start by saying this: this post is honest, open, and perhaps a little raw. If you’re not up for that, you’re in the wrong place.

Recently, I’ve been balancing a lot of stuff. Work, change, going on holiday, creating a home, building a life. I don’t know about you, but I’m a pretty sensitive person, as well as being an introvert. So, with a little over a year of building a business based on putting myself out there, I’ve been feeling out of balance, unsure, and out of sync with myself.

You might have noticed that I haven’t blogged in the last couple of weeks. That’s because I’ve a) been busy, and b) hidden from showing myself more than I already have. In July, I ran a four-week online course, which included lots of videos and writing and sharing my thoughts on running an online business. And my introverted self decided I needed some time off from putting myself out there.

The thing is, I didn’t sit myself down and think about this. I knew I had a lot of work to do – more than I had anticipated – but I put my reluctance to blog or post down to that, rather than admit that I was feeling kind of over-exposed.

In reality, I started telling myself that I wasn’t doing well enough, that I needed to work harder, and that I was a fraud.

That last one stings.

I’m fairly used to the voice in my head that tells me I’m not doing well enough and need to work harder – I’ve built up some fairly decent resilience to that.

The fraud thing, though. That’s new. That has built up since I’ve been self-employed, because there’s a critical voice in my head that says, ‘How can you possibly advise people on running a business?’ It says, ‘Who are you to tell other people what to do with their business?’

And then it packs the final punch: ‘You’re not perfect. You’re not running the perfect business.’

Ah, the perfection myth. Hello, old friend.

Let me tell you what I believe: I believe we’re all human, and that human nature, our existence, is imperfect. I believe perfection is, indeed, a myth. It’s unattainable, designed to keep us small, miserable, and feeling crappy. It’s very very different from healthy striving, from motivation to do a good job, from progress.

Let me tell you what I am: I am imperfect. I am someone who makes mistakes. I am a copywriter, a writer, who sometimes misses typos (especially when I’m over-worked or over-excited). I am spontaneous and intuitive, rather than strict and disciplined. I am enthusiastic and passionate, and I let my heart lead the way as often as I can (with my head on hand should I need it).

I spend my days helping other entrepreneurs and creatives develop their businesses. I often talk to clients about blogging regularly (so the fact that I haven’t recently, boy, you can imagine how my gremlins take that). I advise on being more efficient. I support clients who need to take a break or reduce their output because they’ve taken on too much.

I talk about all these things, but that doesn’t mean I’ve mastered them completely every single time. I’m still learning. I have a head-start on most things. I’ve already done a lot of the work.

But I know that I’ll never reach “perfect”.

So here’s the thing:

I’ve mentioned in previous posts that I’m a recovering perfectionist. The last couple of months have, apparently, been a new lesson in my recovery.

And while I could happily sit here and grit my teeth and be frustrated that I have to learn the bloody lesson again, I’m also grateful for it. Because, seriously, I don’t want to be perfect. I don’t want to fake it. If I’m not learning, doesn’t that mean the journey’s over, anyway?

If you find yourself feeling a fraud, feeling like you’re not allowed to do something, or think something, or feel something, I thoroughly recommend taking some time out to examine what’s going on.

Sure, if you try to pass off someone else’s work as your own, or lie with an open face and a smile, you might want to think about actual fraudulent activity.

But otherwise, likelihood is, you’ve got some gremlins and some perfectionism that needs acknowledging.

You’re more than welcome to hang on to the perfection myth if you’re not ready to dig into this. I work with and know so many people who aren’t ready – and that’s their choice and their path. For me, it’s not authentic to try to put on a mask of perfect. I don’t want people to think I’m something I’m not.

So when you’re ready to join the anti-perfection party, the perfectly imperfect, know this: it’s not always easy. It’s not always socially acceptable. You’ll learn who your friends are. You’ll learn who you are. And you’ll be in really good company.

Jx