I've recently been promoted to a new role (yay! but wait). As part of the rewarding festivities that lasted for two weeks and entailed bubble baths, several cocktails and a pink A.P.C. cardigan, I was committed to get the best take-away salad in the block together with a colleague. We left the office in a "wow, today's really cold" but "hey, at least it's sunny" day and walked to the salad place. I ordered the Habibi salad because I fall for anything that has sweet potatoes on it. Salads are a bit expensive but nothing that can't be justified by the size of the lettuce leaves and the sweet temper of the waiters. I told my colleague I was a bit unsettled about the new job. I hardly ever open up about deep feelings, not sure why. Probably it's the image I want to convey (a tough girl that can cope with anything) or the individual society pushes me to be (a tough girl that can cope with anything). Or the fact that saying it out loud makes one realise it's so very true and it's here, and you better act on it. Anyway, I told her all my friends and work mates were really happy about the move and they were all encouraging me the best way they could, by remarking I was the perfect fit for this position. And while I am certain all these pleasant words came from a good place and had the intention to give me strength, they transformed to a thick, troublesome pressure once they got to my ears. I've never had impostor syndrome before, not that I recall. I had never doubted my skills or feared deceiving others so vigorously. On the contrary, I thought everything was pretty much under my control and what's more, I enjoyed controlling everything. But now I found myself deep in the waters of uncertainty, asking myself: am I good enough for this? Can I make it through? It's not fun to be dependent on other's expectations in the first place, but it's even worse to deal with the bitter fear of disappointing them. I knew my company offered online sessions with therapists, a.k.a a service most of us believe we don't need until we try it. I tried it. I smiled weirdly, a lot. Silences were uncomfortable. I found it hard to be honest. Somewhere between the introduction and the first question I felt like a fool and fantasised about leaving the meeting, hovering over the window's "x". But for some unknown reason I stayed till the very end of it. I closed my laptop and looked upwards. I breathed out violently. At first, I wasn't sure if I felt relieved because the session had ended or because I had the determination to stay. My issues were definitely not sorted out but I managed to voice them (although I looked like Harry Potter talking to Voldemort for the first time). I talked, I won the pulse against the oppressing hand holding me down, the enemy, fear... at least for a while. A little achievement, a longer road to walk by. And it felt good, the James Brown kind of good.
I told my colleague if she had tried this service herself. She said she had her own shrink. I praise Americans, I want to be one (I'm serious, if you have any spare green cards give me a call). They're five years ahead of everything. Even ginger shots. Then she added: "finding the right shrink is like dating, you need to feel that connection". It got me thinking. Was my session love at first sight? Or could I do better? My entire love life projected before me in high speed and chronological order, like an old french movie in Le Champo. Do I really need to go through all of it once more? Panic intensified.
I was a virgin again, naively opening the gates of psychology treatments land.