Cosmic impostor syndrome

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My experience suggests that, over the long-term, serious meditation practice makes you much happier and more laid-back. But it’s not a linear process. There are twists and turns, highs and letdowns. Your mind is gradually reconstructed, and sometimes there are periods of awkwardness when you move from familiar forms of misery to unfamiliar new ways of being. 

One of these awkward periods happened with my self-esteem over the past year. I asked some fellow long-term meditators about this, and they all nodded in recognition—it seems to be a common feature of the journey.

I call it cosmic impostor syndrome. It is what happens when you realize that you really shouldn’t be taking credit for your life, and, as a result, the whole concept of self-esteem stops making sense. 

In the default mind, self-esteem is the hard-won product of an inner battle. There is a constant fight going on between positive and negative thoughts. Your boss gave you stellar marks during your annual review. But perhaps Becky did not find you inspiring as a lover. This is okay, in light of your last Tweet going viral. But look at the intruding paunch you see in the mirror! Many human beings spend most of their lives locked in this unresolvable conflict, hoping to remain on the winning side most of the time. 

If you’re lucky, though, with enough meditation, the self-critical thoughts begin to loosen, and, with that loosening, your capacity for self-love increases. Suddenly, there are only the positive thoughts, echoing in a newly spacious mind. Not only are you a good employee, but Becky has probably forgiven you for your timidity. Ah, surely you are a child of God after all!  

This is not a bad place to end up. If, like me, you’ve been suicidally depressed before, it is hard to believe that the mind can be this pleasant. But with enough time passing in this happy state, an uncomfortable realization dawns. You are still fighting, it’s just that you are punching at air. If you’re really so sure of yourself, why all the self-affirmation? Who are you talking to, when you praise your sparkling wit, or your fabulous cheekbones? 

All of this self-reinforcement is still a form of tension. On some level, you fear that the awful voices will return. And perhaps they will bring against you a more powerful accusation, one that you’re gradually realizing is true: that, your whole life, you have been taking credit for a greater intelligence. The voice in your head that pretends to be in control of everything really isn’t. Your highest virtues, your most ingenious acts: they emerged spontaneously from the same force that decorates the fish, cools the server farms, makes the pineapple tangy.

This sunk in for me after a long spiritual high, a couple of months when reality seemed particularly luminous and lovely. I was feeling pretty good about myself for my fortune on the spiritual journey, and waxing poetic about the practices that installed such lofty feelings in me. And the person I was talking to said, “you’re so wise,” and, suddenly, I experienced a soul-level cringe when I realized that I was being lavishly praised for reciting obvious truths, none of which belonged to me. I was just a conduit for trivia I’d encountered by chance. This sparked a couple of weeks during which the positive parts of my self-related inner monologue were as painful to me as the negative parts had been, previously. I noticed just how much I inwardly boasted about my enormous accomplishments, when they were not that enormous, and, moreover, obviously the product of a giant mass of circumstance that wasn’t engineered by my personality, much as it would like to feel responsible.

It was a bummer, but a healthy one. Since that time, I’ve found myself engaged less in the process of self-evaluation, period. It is relaxing, although it makes some social interactions a little odd. Compliments are less fun. I used to live for them, but now they don’t hit home like they used to—when someone says something nice about my work, it feels like they are complimenting me for the weather. I am glad that the weather is enjoyable! I only really value praise from my wife and closest friends, and I think that’s because they are markers of ongoing relational security. While I’m very happy that the recent launch of my company went well, and this seems to indicate that I’m not horrible at business, that feels like a fact about some machinery I own, rather than a true appraisal of my essential properties. As my wife likes to say, “pride is just a mistake,” even though taking pride can be transiently useful as a motivator.

Recently, a friend remarked that she found my occasional self-deprecation annoying. I would speak about myself as if I was bumbling and incompetent, when I am obviously not, by any reasonable standard. She found it manipulative. Thinking this over, I realized that, previously, my self-deprecation had been tactical. In conversation, I learned to habitually lower my status in order to be likable, when, secretly, my self-regard was quite high. But while the habit of conversational self-deprecation has remained, it comes from a more genuine place now. I don’t know if I’ve really done anything.