I have a tendency to divulge in long-winded explanations. I used to chalk it up to being a chatterbox with an appreciation for flowery adjectives. But with age, I’ve come to realize that it also comes from a place of insecurity. I over explain out of fear of being misunderstood. This behavior often led me to downplaying my accomplishments or tempering my achievements. “I love to write, but I’m not a writer” was a way of eliminating people’s expectations about my abilities, mine included. Admittedly, the term ‘blogger’ still feels foreign to me despite a year of consistent posts and a lifetime of writing in journals.
The thing that made the biggest impact on my confidence has been rearranging my language.
Like a hermit crab seeking a more spacious home, I’ve traded my tattered ill-fitting imposter syndrome for the title of professional beginner.
Embracing a kinder outlook towards my abilities has noticeably shifted my perspective. It came just in time for my transition into a new role at work where I’m learning unfamiliar systems and am brushing up on old skills, i.e scary Excel spreadsheets. Part of “flipping the mental switch” was exchanging my inner monologue of shame and self-doubt for one of tenderness and exploration.
A professional beginner is dedicated to being a life-long student.
They’re the type of person who changes careers after forty or tries on different cities until they find the right fit. They pivot and collect fresh starts like stamps on a passport unapologetically asking questions and changing their mind along the way. The imposter doesn’t convince them to stop before they start. For them, success comes from a willingness to experiment.
“Don’t try to be young. Just open your mind. Stay interested in stuff. There are so many things I won’t live long enough to find out about. But I’m still curious about them.” The beloved and quick-witted icon, Betty White was a beginner, even at 99.
I aspire to live with as much moxie as Betty had. I carry around a mental image of my retired-aged self enrolling in ballroom dancing while dressed in bold mixed prints.
To manifest that future version of Amanda, I continue to nurture the interests I currently have brewing inside me; the blog, my expanding bookshelf, picking out a bold print from a clothes rack that I would’ve shied away from not too long ago. The dusty sewing machine in my closet calls to me to create the fun outfits I visualize dancing in someday. In virtue of stepping into untapped interests, I welcome the other beginnings that await.
It’s a mystery to me why some folks’ knee-jerk reaction to people’s hobbies is to question their skill-level and how they should monetize it. As if the purpose of pursuing a new interest is solely to become an expert and make a living or side hustle from it. At what point between childhood and adulthood was having fun not enough reason to do things?
The more I exercise my beginner-muscle, the more capable I become.
Most of us are figuring things out as we go. Without the inner-imposter taking up precious headspace, I’m proudly celebrating my big and small wins and offering myself grace and patience during the occasional missteps. In attempting something new, I’m already at a better place than where I started.
From time to time, the beginner in me will get scared and wonder what the heck I’m doing. I just go for it anyway.
Meeting adjourned.
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