Crud Meridian

Imposter syndrome is one of the more insidious aspects of modern life. We live in a world where we are bombarded by narratives of success, where our social media is full of finished products, totems of competency and assuredness. Beyond modernity, we also lack the ability to truly know the minds of others. As such, many of us fall victim to the perpetual belief that other people are truly competent. Their inner lives match their exterior performance, they are dynamos of volition and will without the same comet’s tail of autocannibal doubt that we must wade through every day. This is magnified by our broader proto-masculine work culture that eschews any expression of interior struggle as weakness and failure. We are trapped in our own private universes of doubt. 

The kind of cultural changes required to ameliorate this feeling of isolation are slow coming. Expressions of vulnerability are still anathema to tragically many, and the work of coaxing us out of hiding is not easy. And so, while the glacial pace of deprogramming continues, we need other means of understanding our place in the world. Narratives to hold onto, myth and example to counteract our own malevolent inner voices. So when you feel that you alone are the flag-bearer for mediocrity, I want you to remember that there are over 40000 short-tons of munitions stockpiled in naval vessels scuttled off of the American coast.

You’re worried about your decision-making. You think everyone else is so sure, while you alone can barely decide what to have for breakfast. During the 1960s and 70s, in an effort to dispose of unwanted supplies and weaponry, the US Military began a program known as Operation CHASE, for “Cut Holes And Sink ‘Em” wherein decommissioned vessels would be loaded with munitions, sailed out over the continental shelf, and sunk. You’re worried about whether you ought to apply for that scholarship, and meanwhile there are 12 steel pinatas full of explosives at the bottom of the Atlantic because someone Thought It Was A Good Idea and then Did It. I want you to ask yourself, when mired in doubt, “Is applying for this job at least as good an idea as sinking 3000 tons of Sarin Nerve Gas rockets in an undisclosed location off of the coast of New England?” Because someone did that. Someone did it twelve times. 

Look, it can be so hard to trust ourselves. I know, I get it. And you should be commended for trying to have an accurate appraisal of your abilities. We’ve all read a billion think pieces about Dunning-Kruger and the Peter principle. No one wants to be the blowhard who rises to authoritative incompetence. All I’m saying is that you deserve a bit more faith in yourself. You deserve to take the risk of believing in yourself. You deserve at least a fraction of the confidence that decided that the best way to dispose of hundreds of tin containers of VX nerve gas – arguably one of the deadliest substances on earth, with an LD50 of only 5 mg – was to just sink them into the ocean and hope that nothing bad happened. 

I know you’re worried. I know that you’re afraid that you’re the only one who feels lost and unsure. These are tremendously isolating times, even for an era already defined by distance and facade. But remember, as I’m pretty sure Ghandi definitely said, “Be the waterlogged Liberty Ship loaded for bear with upwards of 8000 short-tons of explosives that you want to see in the world.” I know it can be terrifying to take that first step, to feel like you’ll be found out as the liar and fraud that you are. But I promise we’re all with you, every step of the way. We all want you to succeed, to reach your destination, whether that destination is a new career, a new relationship, or disposing of weapons of mass destruction with the same level of forethought you might put into throwing out rancid takeout.

The world is a frightening place, and taking the first steps of acclimatizing to risk can feel impossibly daunting. So when you’re down on yourself, when you feel like you don’t deserve to succeed, when you feel like a fraud, just remember, and take comfort. Because somewhere out there, in the wide blue ocean, there’s a decommissioned transport freighter filled with corroding tins of the deadliest synthetic compound on earth. And you can too.