"I'm convinced that I'm a fraud. Anyone else?"

Every time I have a post published on Mamamia, I’m certain it’s going to be my last.

I’m certain that it’s the piece of writing that’s going to make everyone realise that I’m actually a pretty terrible writer. I’m certain that I’ll be called into a room and told that I’m just not turning out the way everyone had hoped. I’m certain that I’ll be found out.

Basically, I’m convinced that I’m a fraud.

The logical part of me knows that I’m not. That I’ve worked hard and I deserve to be where I am in my life. But the logical part of me is nothing compared to the all-consuming monster that is Impostor Syndrome.

You may not have heard of it (although it does seem to periodically pop up as ‘topic of the month’ for columnists), but you’ve almost definitely lived it at some point in your life. Impostor Syndrome is basically the unshakable feeling that you’re an impostor in your own life. That any success you have can be attributed to luck. That you don’t belong in the position that you’ve found yourself in, and any minute now, someone is going to point that out.

That’s pretty much how I live my life every day.

Twelve months ago, I had finished university and was working in a call centre to make money while I wrote on my blog.

Today, I’m a writer and editor at Australia’s largest independent women’s website.

I love it and I’m incredibly grateful to have ended up where I have, but when I’m alone in my room at night and about to fall asleep, all I’m really thinking is…

How the f@#k did that happen?

How is it that the universe plucked me out of nowhere and dropped me into this job? Doesn’t my boss know that there are a million other people who would be better at this than me? Don’t they know that I don’t belong!?! Why are they paying me when I’m a total fraud?

Idiots!

Now, I’m fully aware that what I’m about to reveal will possibly ruin any chance of me ever being considered a capable human being, but I think it’s important to be honest about how my life is playing out right now.

My day generally starts with me being petrified the minute I wake up. Will today be the day I drop my cover and everybody realises I’m just some random twenty-something who occasionally says some funny stuff about The Bachelor?

When I arrive at work and see what I have to write for the day, I usually sit paralysed for about 15 minutes, trying to convince myself that I can actually string two sentences together.

I then churn out something that I’m convinced is the worst thing anybody has written about anything ever.

If anybody happens to compliment said piece of writing, I generously allow myself to think it may actually not be the worst thing ever written, but that’s only because I managed to fluke it.

Occasionally I get emails inviting me to events, and after checking that they haven’t been sent to the wrong Rosie Waterland, I sit in confusion trying to figure out why anyone would invite me to anything. Do they actually think I’m a person? Don’t they know I spent last Saturday night catching up on Scandal while I picked at a block of cheese? Over the sink?

When the work day is over, I get home and collapse onto my bed in an exhausted heap, convinced that any of the day’s successes were just luck, and that tomorrow will definitely be the day somebody sings “One of these things is not like the other” while pointing a well-manicured, professional-looking finger in my face.

If any friends or family ever congratulate me on doing so well in my professional life, I give them some spiel that includes the words ‘right place right time’ or ‘just winging my way through it’. And although I’m sure my refusal to readily acknowledge my achievements can often seem like I’m conducting the world’s most shameless fishing-expedition, it’s genuinely not like that. Compliment fishing is pointless for someone with Impostor Syndrome – it doesn’t matter how big a fish you catch if you think the fish is lying to you about how talented you are.

Gosh. It’s exhausting just writing about it.

I know that I have no reason to think this stuff. The logical part of my brain knows that I came from pretty messed up beginnings and have worked my way through life despite a lot of hurdles, and I now deserve the opportunities that are coming my way.

I know that not everybody could do the job that I do, and that I must bring something to the table or else I wouldn’t be here.

I know all of those things.

But I don’t feel them.

And feelings seem to trump thoughts every time.

So what to do? Is it possible for someone like me to ever get through one day without feeling petrified?

There are a lot of studies out there that say Imposter Syndrome affects ‘such and such kind of person’, or is ‘much more prevalent in women that men’, or ‘something something words words science something’. There are countless books and Oprah-esq mantras devoted to making us feel like we are the seed of life’s acorn tree that will eternally flourish and grow.

But I think the answer is a bit simpler than that.

If, like me, you often feel like you’re not worth the position you find yourself in, I think the solution can be found in learning from the best.

I think those of us with Impostor Syndrome need to look to the people who have the most unshakeable self-belief in the world and see what we can learn from them.

And who are those people?

American Idol rejects.

You know the ones I mean – the really, horrifically bad singers in the first few episodes of American Idol. The ones who are so lacking in any kind of musical talent that it’s painful to watch. Those ones.

I think those guys are lucky. They believe in themselves so much, that they’re willing to go on international television and show the world what they can do.

Not only that, but when they get rejected, they outright refuse to believe that it has anything to do with them.

They storm proudly out of the room, defiant, telling the cameras that ‘They don’t know me! They don’t know my truth! I’m gonna make it. I’m gonna be the next Miley! I’m gonna do a duet with Justin Bieber about dancing in a mad club!’ (I don’t really know what the kids are into but that sounds about right.)

I know those are the people we’re meant to laugh at, but I’ve actually always looked at those contestants and been incredibly envious of them. They have something that a lot of us don’t have. They have a level of confidence in themselves that I don’t think I’ll ever reach.

Imagine knowing, knowing, that you’re great at something. Being certain that you belong and that you deserve success. Imagine how brilliant that would feel.

It’s hard isn’t it? When you’re convinced that anything great you’ve ever done is a total fluke, it’s difficult to imagine having the kind of confidence that convinces you that you can sing Amazing Grace like Mariah Carey.

Which is why I’m going to start trying to live more like Idol Rejects do. I doubt I’ll ever reach the semi-delusional level of blind self-belief that they tend to have, but I think falling somewhere on the Idol-Reject Spectrum of Confidence would be a step in the right direction. I’d at least like to end up with the ‘self-belief’ part of ‘blind self-belief’.

Maybe trying to live a little more like those guys will get me there.

Now here’s hoping this isn’t the post that gets me fired for incompetence.

Do you ever feel like a fraud in your life?