om body om body
om bodyThe curse of the impossible imposter.
Meg Jackson confronts reality on an
advanced teacher training programme
Imposter
syndrome
I
am currently in the throws of being
a student on an advanced teacher
training course. Yep – I’ve gone back
to bending school and my inner yoga
geek could not be more delighted.
There are around 50 of us on the course
in total and, as is the case with these sorts
of things, we’re a diverse bunch. (Okay, not
so diverse in gender, but a big ‘yay’ for the
handful of blokes). Some people are full-time
teachers, others teaching whenever life
allows. We’ve got people who seem to have
the Being Bendy and Inherently Graceful
genes firmly in their system, and others
for whom just getting heels to the floor in
downward facing dog is a wonderful cause
for celebration.
And again, as is the case with these sort
of things, everyone is a genuinely lovely
human. Whatever our level of practice,
or our reason for taking to a yoga mat in
the first place, or the amount of external
rotation available in our shoulder girdle,
we’ve all been brought together by the same
reasons; to deepen our understanding of
this awesome practice and make ourselves
better teachers.Our teacher is brilliant and everything
you’d want your yoga teacher to be. The
assistants are awesome. The material is
fascinating. The daily practices are inspiring.
I love every moment.
Or at least I did.
In the studio where we’re studying they
sell this splendid magazine in the foyer. (I
refuse to frequent anywhere that doesn’t sell
it, obviously!) And, as all good retail outlets
do, they have piles of them for people to
peruse before purchasing.
On one of our lunch breaks I was
chomping happily on an oatcake, when I
spotted the most recent edition laid out on
the table next to me. Rather than thinking
‘Oooh how wonderful! My fellow students will
get to see the last thing I wrote!’ I went into a
total tailspin.
My stomach flipped. My heart rate went
up. Instead of wanting my lovely new friends
to see my piece, I was panicked. I didn’t want
them to see it. Why? Because I suddenly
felt like I had no place writing articles about
yoga for a national magazine. Why should
me – little old me – be thinking that I knew
anything about yoga? No. They absolutelyshould not see it because then my cover
would be blown – they would realise I was
an imposter.
Of course, the rational me (which was
sadly away browsing the leggings for sale
at that time) knew this wasn’t true. It knew
that I’ve been a teacher for over 10 years,
practicing for years prior to that, and
have taught many hundreds of students,
in different countries, and have never
(knowingly) broken anyone...blah blah
blah....but at that moment in time it
counted for nothing.
The spiralling continued. I saw all of them
as ‘better’ than me. I convinced myself that
all their classes were full all the time. That
they sold out every retreat they ever did.
Who was I to be in the same room as all
these people who had a stronger practice
than me, asked intelligent questions, had
quicker anatomical insights than me? Oh
and all looked impossibly glamorous and
had better outfits than me.
And as soon as they saw the magazine
they’d know that I shouldn’t be there.
So what could I do? I quite liked being
welcomed in the studio so whipping all the