Ah, imposter syndrome, welcome back. Have a seat… your favorite chair is still warm from your last visit.
Looking for a particular essay, I started scrolling Substack one evening and got lost in a wave of diabolical envy. Like counts, comments, orange badges… I couldn’t look away as frustration and despair rolled through my chest. Writers who started months after me now thriving in this space. Engagement and fanbases the stuff of writers’ dreams. Restacks. Quotes. Tags. Love bombs.
If you find value in these emails, I hope you will consider upgrading your subscription. Paid subscribers will get bonus sober support each week. If you cannot afford a subscription, please respond to this email and let me know you can’t afford it but would like full access.
After discarding my third chewed and torn fingernail in less than 20 minutes, I closed out the page. Nothing good would come from this train of thought, I realized as I sat in my uncomfortable emotions and asked myself the hard questions, like why do I feel threatened by other women writers success? Why do I compare my writing style to some of the greatest writers of our time and feel jealous instead of inspired, or simply grateful for words of wisdom that not only paved the way for so many, but continually build beautiful prose that personally moves me again and again?
My thoughts felt darkly parallel to a recent read of mine, Yellowface, about a writer who steals her dead friend’s book manuscript and passes it off as her own. A dark fiction, the book is relatable in how easy it is to hyperfocus on what we don’t have, and remorse at the women who do.
Recently in the news, a fiction writer with a book coming out was recently exposed for writing anonymous scathing 1-star reviews of her peers, presumably to hurt the competition. Which leaves me with some questions: 1) Has writing always been such a competitive sport, or is it incentivized with the proliferation of Goodreads/reviews/Booktok? And 2) Why do we as women so instinctively pit ourselves against each other?
Is it because we were led to believe in a patriarchy that there are only so many seats at the table? Is it animalistic/evolutionary? And is it a female phenomenon at all, or do men have similar instincts that come out in different ways?
I’m embarrassed to talk about this so candidly, because I know it makes me sound catty and superficial. I do want to see other women win. Of course I do! I’m a girl’s girl, I think. Hopefully it goes without saying, but I would never try to hurt someone else for my own gain. I genuinely want to see more women in office, in the c-suite, and at the table. But reflexively? I want to make sure there’s an open seat for me, too. And in the darkness of my heart, while I think sabotaging someone else’s success is wretched and cruel, I can see how someone could get there. For the same reason I was still resistantly rooting for the main character of Yellowface to get away with it. Because success feels limited and it’s so damn easy to feel like the victim of our own story.
The 30,000 Foot View
Everyone has negative thoughts. Everyone spews vitriol in their minds on occasion. Two of my favorite songs from Taylor Swift’s Midnights albums are Vigilante Shit and Karma because they both promise us this redemption arc for us as anti-heroes and “they’ll get what’s coming for them” for our adversaries.
In the past I would stew in that negativity while feeling shame for not being the bigger person. But now I can see it differently.
My recovery journey has taught me so many things about myself and my feelings; most importantly, that I’m not my thoughts. Thoughts come and go like leaves floating down a river. I’m not the leaves; I’m the river. Envy, jealousy, anger? That is not who I am. Those leaves drift through me but they often float away as quick as they came.
I have a pillow that shows the spectrum of emotions wheel to remind me where these feelings originate. Envy is an expression of rage, while disappointment stems from fear. These emotions feel fairly complex and aggressive in the moment but at their core they’re as basic as they come. And they are all completely normal; healthy even.
Shaming myself for these feelings is something I would have done regularly in my drinking days. But sitting with them? Mapping them out even? That’s recovery behavior, baby!
I feel jealous because I want big beautiful things in my writing. I sense imposter syndrome because there will always be people who are better than I am at, well, everything — and I am here to be the student, not the teacher. I feel envious because I too want success and thank goodness because I don’t know a lot of writers actively seeking out failure. If I didn’t want success or readers, I wouldn’t put myself out there to begin with. If anything, it’s how I got here at all.
As far as the question as why do women pit ourselves against each other? I think it’s the wrong question. Sure, there are mean people out there and I’m not here to dissect or understand them or their actions. But upon my own introspection, it’s not that I want other writers to fail or not succeed. I simply want the opportunity to join them. And that’s not mean girl behavior. That’s the actions of driven women determined to keep growing.
It’s both/and. I still have so much I want to accomplish, and I will root for my colleagues and friends who are killing it. I’m proud of what I’m doing and I will keep moving forward. I sometimes feel pangs of jealously or suffer from what-about-me syndrome, and that doesn’t make me a bad person. Only human.
Someone else’s success doesn’t make me less of a writer. Someone else’s engagement or like count doesn’t undermine my work. It’s not always the case but right here and right now, there is room at this table.
And on Wednesdays we wear pink.
Have you bought my book, It’s Not About the Wine: The Loaded Truth Behind Mommy Wine Culture? Buy it here. And please leave a review on Amazon when you’re finished!
Sober Staircase
Each week I will offer one of my favorite tips, quotes, affirmations, resources, or exercises to step up your sobriety. I hope these will be invaluable resources for your sober journey and well worth your money and time. This section is for paid subscribers only.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to The Sober Mom Challenge to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.