I once worked with a woman who had “impostor syndrome”, and she had it bad.  It paralyzed her.  I couldn’t, and don’t, really understand that – “fake it till you make it” really is a thing.  Sometimes you just have to power through and make it happen.  I think she had a very negative experience at my company, and it was as much her fault as anyone else’s.

I had a piano lesson on Sunday.

I don’t think I have “impostor syndrome” per se (amazing how many people misspell that, btw.  It’s not “per say”).  But I think I do have a very low opinion of my abilities, and it’s very difficult to see myself as competent enough to measure up to others.  I’m comfortable with how good I am in comparison to myself, but every time you throw someone else into the mix, all I can think of is how much better than me they are, and how much better I could be if only this or that had happened in my life.

Raw intelligence is not a one to one correspondence with ability.

One thing about my new piano teacher is that she treats me like I’m actually competent, and I can’t put into words exactly how uncomfortable that makes me.  It’s not that she’s wrong to do it, or that I want her to stop, or even that I think she’s wrong.  But it directly butts up against my image of myself as an incompetent fool who has holes in his knowledge and doesn’t even know some of the basics.  Or, more accurately, someone who can’t stay in his lane and is getting too big for his britches.

I know my place.  Or I thought I did.

I say this in regards to a lot of thing.  For example, when it comes to dating.  I’m male, and I’m not dead.  I find some women attractive.  But I never make a move.  Never, ever, ever.  Because I know my place, and that’s what I tell myself.  I know my place.  My place is to sit on the outside, marvel at their physical beauty (and, rarely, other kinds of beauty, but that’s really rare), and think about what could be if that wasn’t my place in life.  And go home (or whatever) alone.  And, be happy with my place in life.  I guess.

That’s my place.  That’s my lot in life.

My place in music, as it is with almost everything else I’ve ever done, is essentially the same.  I sit on the outside, watch other people succeed, watch other people have (or be) everything I wanted and never was capable of achieving, and just accepting it because that is my place.  That is my lane.

I don’t see myself as competent.

My teacher seems to think I am.

I, seriously and with no irony, have no idea what to do with that.