Imposter Syndrome in Women. And Spaceships.

My kids have recently gotten into the game Among Us, a seemingly cute online game where a group of space people is dropped into a spaceship and one is secretly identified to sabotage the ship. Because they are actually an alien imposter.

The goal is to figure out who that person is. And, before you ask, no, I’m not sure they’re old enough to play it. What’s the recommended age? Let’s just pretend that’s how old my kids are. My kids are the-recommended-age-to-play-Among Us-years old. We’re running a pretty loose ship over here these days, so no judgement, please.

The kids teamed up and asked Ben and me to play with them the other night. And, in true Schmidt kids form, they literally gave us no tutorial and just pressed a bunch of buttons on our devices for us and then yelled, “Start playing! Run!”

I, of course, panicked and then attempted the only video game strategy I know, which is just to run and press A as fast as I can, but this game worked differently. And before I knew it, my kids were yelling, “YOU’RE THE IMPOSTER, MOM! YOU’RE THE IMPOSTER!”

And, you guys. I know. I KNOW. While I’m pretty sure they weren’t talking about me as a human person, they still hit that “imposter” nerve that sits exposed every day of my adult life. And it was the worst.

Serious question. Are there really women out there who go through their days without feelings of self doubt? People who, at any moment, could say, “I got this,” and it would be true? And they’re not just saying it in that way that we say it when we’re trying to convince ourselves that we’ve got it when we know we don’t, in fact, got it at all?

I honestly have no idea what I’m doing. Most days of the week. And most minutes of the day. I am about a half-step ahead of things at best, and therefore I can often pull off the guise that I know what I’m doing in life. That I’ve got it together.

But the truth is, I’m an imposter. Or at least I think I’m an imposter. Either way, I’m very much afraid of being exposed. As an instructional coach. As a teacher. As a mom. As an adult in general.

There’s a guy who comes to our school quarterly who I call “the Bagel Guy.” Not to be insulting, but because I literally have no idea what he does except that he brings teachers free bagels that we can eat without guilt if we sit down and talk with him about the thing that it is that he does for us. With our money.

And I sit down and he pulls up my account and says some numbers at me and asks if I have questions and I ask him if he thinks I should have questions and he says, “No…,” and looks at me a little weird and then I take my free bagel, thank him, and go about my day a little less hungry.

And if he were to ask me one more question, ANY specific question, I would totally be exposed as the fraud I am. Because I have no idea what those numbers mean or why they are important and I’m pretty sure that I should at this point in my life.

In fact, I’m pretty sure my whole life is like that one closet in the den that haphazardly collects all the stuff and that could really use some organization and order. You know, that one closet that you’re sure to keep the door closed to in case unexpected visitors suddenly show up at your house.

And you keep the carpet in front of that closet door neatly vacuumed and the space around it clean so that no one will ever suspect that chaos and uncertainty that exists right behind it. That’s how I feel much of the time.

And I’m willing to bet that many of you do, too.

Because I Googled “Imposter Syndrome.” And my research shows it affects mostly women and that there are five main types. And I also learned that at least 70% of people feel like they “don’t belong” at some point in life.

So my question is this. Do we really need this called out as a syndrome if the majority of us experience it at some point? Or is this simply human nature? Are we supposed to feel this way? Does it benefit us somehow? Or is it because that stupid Eve ate the stupid apple or whatever?

Like my first experience with Among Us, maybe we are all just running around pressing A as fast as we can in hopes of not getting exposed as unqualified, or undeserving, or disorganized, and then this exposure ultimately leads to us getting fired. Or dumped. Or humiliated in a way that knocks a solid chunk out of our mental health.

I looked up the rules to Among Us so that I can beat my kids at it tonight after dinner. It said that the game is played, and I quote, when “one crew member is replaced by a parasitic shapeshifter.”

It also said that the imposter is selected randomly, meaning we all take a turn in the shapeshifting parasitic role. I’m struck by this wording, partially because “shapeshifter” is a significantly cooler way to say “imposter” and partially because that's exactly the root of my experience of imposter syndrome, the imposterdom (if you will) that so many of us are apparently struggling with.

It’s the expectation that we can and will move in and out of the multiple roles demanded of us every single day. And because there are multiple, and probably because they are demanded, we never actually feel a sense of “expertise” anywhere. We just shape and shift all over the place, hoping that we do it well enough to not catch anyone’s attention. To not make anyone suspicious. And that’s incredibly uncomfortable.

But, also, knowing that we all must take turns as the imposter gives me a bit of comfort. Because that means we all know what it feels like to feel like a fraud. A charlatan. A “parasitic,” “shape-shifting” “alien.”

And with a bit of understanding, hopefully, comes a moment or two of grace.