Fake, Fraud, and Phony

I've read stories about celebrities who have something called impostor syndrome. Essentially, they've achieved success and can't believe it. They feel as though someone will catch on and they indeed will be called out as impostors. Me too, just not like that. You see, I spend almost every day feeling like an impostor.

Oh, Goat! How do you always keep your footing?

I fix a hoax around my life. I  feign interest at times. I falsify my wellness often. I simulate life I guess. Sometimes I just step back and go, "I wonder if they know that I totally put-on a front." It feels like a pseudo-life sometimes.

 Kinda like this guy's pseudo-eyebrows. 

I feel like I fake it at work. I really do enjoy my students and my course content mind you. I kinda fake the rest though. I fake that I was called to this profession. Some know from an early age that they want to do this for a living; I did not. I'm still not entirely sure I made the right decision. I mean, I think I'm good at this. I think some students enjoy what we accomplish together. I think I can make a difference with some of the students and policies, but I also feel like I will never be that teacher.  I'm coming up on 20 years at this. I know many teachers who did 30-40 years. That won't be me. I can't. I'm a fake.

Gee, thanks for pointing that out. I wasn't already acutely aware.

When it comes to wellness, I'm a fraud. These past 2 years have been a constant struggle it seems. I had things managed, but then they all went to hell. My lupus and Sjogrens fell out of remission. My migraines went from episodic to constant. I live in a state of "What next?" The waiting for that other shoe to drop has been life lately. Trying to get a handle on all parts of this body that have dissolved into a shitstorm of conditions with conflicting solutions just makes me a bundle of nerves. I think my fraud is going to be found out. I't's starting to show with my absences; my walking downstairs; my memory. It's all slipping I'm a fraud.

Fraud: not just for guys in big jackets with questionable dance moves anymore.

Then there's the mounting anxiety and depression. I try to hide it, but some days I pry myself out of the flannel sheets and simply crave the nighttime when I can return. I feed the cats and bide my time until I can cuddle with them again because honestly, they don't judge and they always seem to know that I require their presence. It's remarkable how soothing a purring cat on your pillow can be. I try not to wallow too log in the ruminations of anxiety. I fear lingering too long in the recesses. My mental health is a farce. Behind that facade is a phony just trying to ignore the reality of her darkening headspace. I'm a phony.

It's not like I'm trying to deny it here.

In The Matrix, there's a point where Carrie-Anne Moss is trying to outrun the Agents in black.She dive rolls through a window and pulls both her handguns ready to shoot whatever comes through that window after her. Then she tells herself, "Get up, Trinity. Get up!" Keep fighting the Agents, Trinity.
I'm a fake.
I'm a fraud.
I'm a phony.
Does everyone feel this way?

Good job, Baby Moose. Keep getting up.