Imposter syndrome – my new arch nemesis

(Written as part of mental health awareness week!)

So it’s that time again- it’s mental health awareness week!

I’ve documented on this blog my previous, and some persisting, mental health issues on this blog.

But this year something new started.

It’s called “imposter syndrome”

And at first, it hid as being a humble person

“Yeah I know my mum is proud of me”

“No I’m really not that clever, honestly”

“Yeah uni is going alright”

In reality uni is going extremely well for me. I’m on track to start my PhD in September. But I still struggle to be proud of my achievements. I’m still shocked when I get a good grade. Every tiny mistake brings the fear of being “found out” by my peers or lecturers, that I’m not as great as everyone thinks I am.

It’s a common problem, I suppose, with the way our systems of social mobility are structured.

You started at the bottom, and you could quite easily end up back there with one ‘wrong move’

I’m having to teach myself to be proud, and actually talk about my achievements without passing them off as nothing.

University is hard- especially as a disabled person.

And it’s about time I acknowledged that.

I’m not an imposter. I’m a disabled, bisexual, passionate academic woman (who really likes cats and live music)

Becca 🙂

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I don’t need fixing.

On the 7th of November, 2016 the a United Nations committee declared that the United Kingdom was in breach of the United Nations Convention of the Rights of Disabled People (UNCRPD), after a two year investigation. What should have ideally been a turning point, to positively change the “grim reality” of life for disabled people, was quickly snubbed by the current government as “offensive”. The government reassured the public it was “continuously seeking improvements for disabled people” and the findings were soon dismissed and forgotten. However, disabled people continue to face the human rights abuses the UN report outlines. It’s 3 months later, apart from the promise of reassessing a lot of people’s Personal Independence Payment claims, not much has happened. I’m angry about that.

Since starting my MA in disability studies in September, Ableism is the concept that I’ve come across, and one I like to use. In a similar way to racism or sexism, ableism is the idea that disabled people are part of a disabled: non-disabled dichotomy. Being disabled is seen as inherently negative as a result. Ableism permeates all aspects of the social world, from social policy, to everyday interactions with others. The UNCRPD aims to combat ableism, by regularly following each signatory country to ensure they are doing more and more to meet all the articles.

Raised in the UN report into the UK violations, were 11 recommendations, many of which centred on the changes to the welfare state, that hugely affect disabled people, infringing on their human rights. Many of the UN’s concerns are about the changes to welfare, adopted since 2010, as well as the rights to independent living and to be included in the community, social protection and employment of persons with disabilities.

 

I cannot stress how important this report should have been, in changing the government’s policies towards welfare for society’s most vulnerable.

 

But, since much of what we see in the media and from our government centres on ableism: where disabled people are ‘scroungers’ and hear things like ‘Oh I wish I didn’t have to work and get free money’ – is it really a surprise?

There has been an alarming rise in this sort of rhetoric across all areas of life. What society needs to do is recognise that disabled people have a lot to give. We need to move on from the poles of ‘inspiration overcomes disability’ and ‘tragically suffers from disability’ – what happens to all of us who fall somewhere in between? Is disability really as scary and negative as society thinks it is?

As a woman with a chronic pain, joint problems and dyspraxia, I don’t necessarily suffer. I know that’s hard for many people to understand. I still go to university, see my friends, and live my life. Shocking.

What I suffer from is a society that would prefer if I were ‘normal’

That I should attempt to continually ‘fix’ myself, to pass as able bodied / non-disabled.

My answer to that is, no.

Fix society’s attitude.

Fix the welfare system.

Fix the access issues

Fix the pathology and medicalisation.

Fix the lack of awareness and understanding.

I do not need fixing.

Becca

This is a disability assessment 

This is a disability assessment
This is for Personal Independence Payment
This is death
This is humiliation 
This is judgement day 
This is the fine line between scrounger and innocent 
This is the difference between food bank or a food shop
This is being able to heat your home
This is the key your freedom 
This is the key your destitution
This is your fate- decided
This is a prompt for a UN enquiry
This is a test 

This is a trial 

This is ‘yes’ ‘no’ ‘sometimes’

This is the way the government defines disability
This is wrong 
This needs to stop 
This kills disabled people
When will that be enough?

Image credit: http://www.scriptonitedaily.com/2013/03/29/our-last-good-friday-easter-monday-beginning-of-the-end-for-uk-poor/

I know you didn’t want a pole dance 🌚

If there’s one thing that pisses me off about my dyspraxia it’s the physical aspects of balance and trying not to be as clumsy as fuck.

Over the years, I’ve developed a good few coping strategies to deal with my Dory-from-finding-Nemo memory that it’s not too bad

* Also when I forget I’ve ordered something cute from Topshop and it turns up- that’s always a plus! *

And yeah sometimes it’s frustrating, but the clumsiness and balance is something else.

Take buses for example.

Easy task right? 

You get on the bus.

You sit down (if possible)

Or you stand gracefully, managing to stand your ground right?

Hahahaha- not if you’re dyspraxic.

I recall one occasion quite vividly when, standing, clinging to a pole, I accidentally gave an old lady an involuntary pole dance neither she or I had planned for, or wanted. Here’s hoping she didn’t die of shock and horror shortly afterwards.

Or that time I knocked a friend’s drink over with my elbow.

Or the time I dropped a full on bucket of water, all down myself

Or when I take what feels like about six billion years to come down one flight of steps. With tuts from the people behind me (sorry not sorry)

Forgetfulness is more acceptable, as my friends and family are very forgiving and I can say ‘oh sorry! I completely forgot!’ Which is fine

A lack of coordination makes for many an embarrassing moment. Sometimes even humiliating by the stares I get. It makes room for more judgement.

And that in turn only makes me less and less confident.

But I just wish people would give it a second thought.

Rather than just staring like ‘what the fuck?’

Help someone out.

Life inside and out 

It’s weird how different I act outside the house, than I do inside the house. Inside the house I’m a pain-riddled person, who shuffles around the house, can just about manage to dress herself. The one who has to hold onto handrails in the shower. 

The one who, inside, gives herself the hardest time about that time this week when she knocked another drink, or ended up yelling at someone because she felt completely over-simulated by her surroundings, and is stressed up to her eyeballs because she forgot about that piece of reading that was due for her seminar tomorrow.

On the outside I try and hold everything together. Keeping my anxiety from making me publicallu having a breakdown because I’m well within time but still fear being late to university. On the outside, no one sees my  chronic pain or my dyspraxia- so I look like a really ignorant young woman (when is the phrase young woman no longer okay by the way?) when in reality, I’m pushing through pain to move myself enough to get on the train and the tram, so I can get an education- and there’s so much going on in the busy train station, I have to keep checking the board to make sure I get on the right service, and focus on making correct  the movements to walk.
But- thinking positively- I’m proud of how I handle myself, and juggle life inspite of all this.

I’m still managing to keep up with, and get good grades, at university- there have been days when I’ve felt I just can’t carry on, but I just do somehow

There are days when my dyspraxia frustrates the absolute hell out of me, especially with what should be simple things- but it’s this that makes me ‘weird’ and most of the time, I embrace that!
Becca  🙂