I Have Imposter Syndrome

and an excerpt from the book

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Hello friends,

I have had writer’s block for two weeks after writing 85,000 words in just a few months. My initial goal was to have a rough draft by June 1st. My new goal is to have a rough, rough draft by July 1st and then revise for months to a rough draft. A trip to France for my visa renewal and other life stuff came up, but nothing that should have prevented me from writing. My creative brain just said, “I need a break.” I was on such a roll, which threw me into a loop of harmful speech.

I started down the imposter road. What am I doing writing a book?

Imposter syndrome, is a psychological experience in which a person suffers from feelings of intellectual and/or professional fraudulence. (wiki)

I don’t know how to do this. The more classes I join, the more I realize how little I know. How do I tackle pacing? What is a braided essay? Why is my story important? Who is the hero? Is it self-indulgent if I am the hero? I can’t write flowery! How do these writers do this? It seems like it just seeps out of their veins. What the hell is syntax?

I know how to travel full-time. There is no imposter syndrome there. I might suffer from a superiority complex in this area, but not imposter syndrome.

Then Will paused me in the middle of a “what the fuck am I doing” moment, and in a very tough love fashion, he said

“There was a time when…

You did not know how to full-time travel

You did not know how to homeschool

Or RV

Or Sail

Or, most recently, Thru-hike.

But what did you do?????

You learned.

You educated yourself.”

He was right, but that does not mean the imposter syndrome is gone.

I can learn.

You can learn.

We can all learn something new.

And thrive.

Doing something new is scary and hard. Damn, writing a book is so hard. But we can all do hard things.

I have been writing and researching for over a decade, first for a blog, then for a vlog, a newsletter, a podcast, and essays. I can write. I just have not written a book.

What are you struggling with? Are you learning new stuff? Is it scary and hard?

"If your dreams do not scare you, they are not big enough."
Ellen Johnson Sirleaf

Thank you all for being here. Thank you for telling me to keep writing. Thank you for telling me you don’t want just one book but a series. Thank you so much. Your comments, emails, PMs, etc keep me going. I am writing this first book for all of us. The truth as it must be told about the stuff all of us go through, from the bottom of my heart. True and bold.

I hope you are having a fabulous weekend doing something you love with people you love or learning how to do something new and scary.

xoxo,
Jess (Sunshine)

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BOOK

Each week, when I release a newsletter to our paid subscribers, I share a paragraph or two of what I have written, unedited, and my streaming thoughts. Will it make the final cuts? I am unsure, but I enjoy sharing and getting your feedback. Thank you.

Signs of my miscarriage emerged while I was at my sister’s bachelorette party in a grungy basement renta-club in the hip East Village of Manhattan. Somewhere between lap dances and vodka shots, I started to spot and cramp. I had been nursing Avalon for six months, knowing my period would resurface eventually. Still, I could not have envisioned it would double me over in pain while pulling crinkled dollar bills out of my push-up bra as I approached the stage where Mr. Yummy grinded on a multitude of horny bachelorettes. When I returned to Los Angeles several days later, I received the news from my doctor: “You are pregnant.” Then, she paused, “But I don’t see a heartbeat.” These seconds felt like reaching the top of the roller coaster, hands raised, screaming with joy, and dropping my heart in my stomach one second later. Dr. Perfect Lips did not offer a DNC immediately; a heartbeat could appear.

When I returned 3 weeks later for my second ultrasound, my shock of having two kids under a year old had grown into a silver lining: moving through the diaper stage simultaneously, monotonous, albeit, but efficient, a sibling bond from lived experiences, and maybe even shared clothing to save costs. This one enlivened Will, the forever Accountant. Unfortunately, the heartbeat never surfaced, so here I was again, wiping the warm jelly from my parts with the coarse white sheet and ugly crying all over the room, the elevator, and our car.

During the drive home, I confessed I only had one more go at a second baby before I was done trying. Each miscarriage took a piece of me with it down the DNC suction tube. Where did that suction tube take my baby anyway? Were they just discarded with the rubber gloves and the white sheets in the trash can? I am not religious, but I felt that if one child were our destiny, we would love the shit out of that one child. I was resolved; this was my final time.

The following weeks were filled with doctors’ appointments, blood tests, swabs and pokes, ultrasounds and vagina cameras. When I thought I could not possibly take another touch, a diagnosis was rendered. I had a genetic condition spelled out by letters, like a standardized exam for a premier university, MTHFR. MTHFR is a mutation that can affect how the body processes folate. Elevated homocysteine levels can irritate blood vessels and increase the risk of blood clots. In my case, a blood clot went directly to my babies and stopped their hearts instantly. The doctors were perplexed that I had carried one healthy, 9-pound, 2-ounce baby full term; one even mentioned that she was a miracle, something we still reference today when she is struggling. “You fought to get here, and you can fight through this.” The solution to be able to carry our next baby to full term was to take prescription levels of folic acid and have regular ultrasounds to check on the heartbeat.

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