Why drinking less used to make me feel like an imposter in my own life.
Last year, someone said to me, with the gentle grace of a charging bull:
“Don’t do that imposter syndrome bullshit, Denise,” he said
It wasn’t a request, a gentle suggestion, or a supportive handhold.
It was a clear and direct instruction.
And, at the time, it was exactly what I needed to hear, exactly the way I needed to hear it.
Yes, it was brutal, but the simple fact was that no amount of coddling was going to eliminate a case of the imposter blues, so his advice was just not to entertain it.
Easier said than done? Perhaps. But necessary.
So what is imposter syndrome anyway? And more importantly, Denise, what’s this got to do with my drinking?
Imposter syndrome is that feeling that you don’t belong. That you’re not good enough and everyone knows it – or, at least, if you hit post, make that presentation or try that activity and fail publicly, then they soon will.
It’s an overwhelming and debilitating sense of insecurity dressed up in modern pop-psychology to make it Instagram-worthy.
And it raises its warty head in many walks of life, including how you drink… or don’t drink.
When I Felt Imposter Syndrome
I felt it when I first decided to cut back on my drinking and change the role I allowed alcohol to play in my life.
In my youth (all those many moons ago), I thought that anyone who didn’t drink and “party” like I did was either a boring old fuddy-duddy, knocked up or in recovery.
Yes, I was a stereotypical booze hound who didn’t get how the other half lived – nor did I care to find out.
As I matured, I began to see people around me who drank less, or not at all, and I found myself looking at them with a quiet admiration as they calmly and confidently went about living full lives without the need for alcohol’s validation at every available opportunity.
They shared tales of time well spent with a carefully edited selection of people in the most authentic ways.
While I struggled to remember the names of the ‘new friends’ I had spent the night doing shots with.
I didn’t think that could be me.
I didn’t think I could drink ‘just one’ and not only stop, but be happy in doing so.
That I could find fun and laughter and connection in a life with less booze.
After all, what would it mean if I put all the effort into cutting back on my drinking only to find out that I was as dull and uninspired as I feared, but without the buffer of a good drink in my hand to shield me from my new reality?
Doing It Anyway
Turns out that when you do actually take the plunge and cut back on the drinking, those insecurities don’t magically go away. Sorry.
But what has happened is that I’ve developed the ability to recognise them, accept them as part of who I am, and ultimately to move them aside.
At the same time, I try my damnedest to be the version of me I always wanted to be but was too hampered by my imposter syndrome to explore.
Does that sound a little too easy? A little too PMA (positive mental attitude – remember when that was a thing?)?
Well, it wasn’t.
It wasn’t easy or simple or plain sailing.
I did have nights when I drank too much.
I did have weeks when I had too many engagements that required me to be in ‘high-performance-mode’.
And I did sometimes wonder if it wouldn’t be better to just keep the status quo, pour another pinot grigio and just keep on keeping on.
So what changed?
I did.
Not entirely. Not completely. But enough.
Enough that I could see that if I always did what I’d always done, I’d continue to always get what I’d always got…
And damn it, I wanted something different.
I didn’t want to be an imposter in my own life anymore.
And so I stopped doing that imposter bullshit and started to live more intentionally, more deliberately and more mindfully about my drinking.
I started to choose when alcohol would be permitted to make an appearance, not default to old habits.
And one day, without me realising, it had stuck.
It became a part of who I am.
Do I Still Have Imposter Syndrome?
Sometimes.
I’ve spoken to people a lot further along in life, careers, business, and it seems it can always raise its beaky head no matter how successful at (insert thing here) that you get.
For me, I speak to people, or see the work they produce, or look at the aesthetic of their feeds and all the accomplishments of their highlight reel, and I am flooded with waves of feeling like I’m not quite good enough.
But I never have it about drinking anymore, not even for a moment, and that feels really good.
So, if you’re anything like me and you live inside these feelings too, then know that you don’t have to do that imposter syndrome bullshit either.
Whether it is about work, relationships, parenting, drinking, or anything else in your life, that imposter syndrome feeling is just old wiring that needs to be updated.
So embrace your feelings of self-doubt and insecurity and do the thing anyway.
See a life for yourself beyond a permanent cycle of regret and repetition (be it about booze or anything else), and give yourself the chance to do what you’ve always feared you were incapable of, and be who you never thought you could be.
It can be scary as hell, but it feels freaking awesome.
How Do I Beat Imposter Syndrome Around My Drinking?
And my number one tip:
It’s all based on your beliefs. You believe that you won’t be good at drinking differently, and so you never truly allow yourself to be.
What you need is evidence. Of one single moment when you managed to successfully moderate your intake and still had a nice time.
It doesn’t have to be a wild night or a fully teetotal experience. Just one time that you put yourself first and felt good about it.
And then you hold on to that memory. You keep it front and centre and take it with you every time you want to drink differently.
The next time you stop when you intended, or say no to a drink you would usually say yes to, you add that to the memory bank.
Before you know it, you’ll have a raft of evidence that proves that you are not an imposter in your own life and that you do have the ability to take back the power of choice from alcohol.
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