Feeling Like a Fraud

Some personal reflections on getting back up after being down

Today I feel like a fraud.

On the one hand, it’s Monday, and time to draft this week’s Buoyant Leader newsletter.

On the other hand, I’m feeling decidedly non-buoyant: sluggish, sad, scared, and stuck.

I open my note-taking app and looked through all the newsletter ideas — and I got pissed off at my past self for offering all this smug advice that I really need right now.

Because when you’re not buoyant, the last thing you want is someone telling you how to right yourself.

Which is a useful thing for future me to remember when I’m out of my funk and feeling helpful again.

But I don’t want to abandon this feeling of fraudulence that quickly. I want to twist on this hook for a few more paragraphs, in case you might also have a touch of “who the hell am I to…?” now and again.

Fraudulence

The fraudulence has two parts to it.

First, I’m the guy who has supposedly figured this stuff out, and here I am again. I feel like calling some coaching clients and paying them to coach me today.

And I know, conceptually, that having off-days doesn’t disqualify me from — well, from anything really, except maybe surgery or air traffic control.

But it’s hard, and frankly annoying, when the advice and empathy and perspective I can dole out like the world’s best bartender falls so flat to my own ears.

Probably it’s an example of why bootstrapping isn’t a thing — while self-coaching can help with surface issues, in order to lift spirits we need each other.

But I wouldn’t want my clients to see me this way, and if I had a call this afternoon I’d fake energy and charm and positivity.

The second part of the fraudulence is the old refrain, Do As I Say And Not As I Do.

Because, honestly, this funk was pretty preventable.

I’ve neglected my morning practice for a couple of weeks now.

I’ve avoided several tough conversations because of the emotional discomfort I feared they would trigger.

And I’ve dealt with my unwanted feelings mostly by watching YouTube videos that review “buy it for life” products and brands. Exactly the opposite strategy of what I recommend (“feel it in your body”), and exactly the opposite of what would actually help.

Grace?

This is the part of the post where I feel like I should be humbly redeeming myself.

Or subtly inviting comments commending my courage for posting this.

Or hit the Delete key until I’m back to a blank note.

Maybe I should sleep on it.

The Next Day

Well, now it’s tomorrow, and I’m feeling much better. Full of beans (literally: scrambled tofu and mung beans for breakfast), and ready to align actions with values.

So maybe this is buoyancy; not expecting every day to be smooth sailing, but simply getting back up after going under.

The opening of Steward Brand’s new book, Maintenance: of Everything, tells the story of three boatsmen competing in 1968 to complete the world’s first (that we know of) solo circumnavigation of the earth in a boat that could not dock or take on any supplies or get outside help of any kind.

Rather than focusing on strategy or derring-do or luck, Brand explores how each of the competitors handled maintenance of their vessels and their health.

All faced setbacks that had them on the verge of quitting (or dying).

The ones who succeeded were better prepared by virtue of being less optimistic.

So when the storm came, or the accident happened, they didn’t panic. They had faith, not in the sea or the wind, but in their ability to weather whatever came.

When an insurmountable problem arose, they took time to think, to reflect, to consider before taking action. And fortunately for them, those actions rendered the insurmountable… surmountable.

So maybe yesterday was just one of those storms for me.

An inner storm.

Maybe had I done more morning qi gong and afternoon breathwork it wouldn’t have happened.

Maybe it was on my inner horizon and there was no avoiding it.

Maybe it was one of those cleansing storms that leaves the bright crackle of ozone in its wake, rainbows chasing away the receding cumulonimbus.

And maybe this is all a story in my head, which is now in yours.

The Takeaway?

I dunno.

“Prepare better”?

“Be gentle with yourself”?

“Be kind to others; everyone is fighting a hard battle”?

You choose.

For me, it’s a reminder that we’re all in this together.

Today I lift you; tomorrow you return the favor.

Going under happens. It’s not a sin, it’s not a crime, it’s not a shame.

And buoyancy isn’t some earned thing, although you can tilt the odds in your favor.

Buoyancy can be our natural state. We can rise again, dripping and spluttering, and our underwater experience can contain gifts for ourselves and others.

So yes, prepare better. Be gentler and kinder with yourself and others. (Even — perhaps especially —to your harsh and unkind inner voices; they’re trying their best to keep you safe.)

And remember that, maybe, we’re all frauds sometimes. But that doesn’t mean we stop doing the work.

And it doesn’t make our work any less precious.