Reading · Therapy Tips for Clergy

After I grew up in a trailer park and in public housing,

After I was surrounded by people who were barely hanging on,

and I had a baby when I was still a teen because I couldn’t see another path ahead,

After I discovered therapy and learned to see more paths,

and went to community college and volunteered at a church,

After I won a scholarship that would pay for graduate school,

and I applied to a very fancy one because when I was a kid other poor people used to joke that I was smart enough to go there, the unspoken punchline having to do with people like us and girls like me,

and I was tired of being looked down upon by them, myself, and everyone else and thought

hell, I should at least try

After, to my astonishment, I was accepted,

and I became a minister because I wanted to make the world better, especially for those who are looked down upon,

Someone from my past who I hoped would be proud of me said,

Ugggghhhh.

In reality, I had been struggling with imposter syndrome the whole time. My life often felt surreal and I harbored a secret fear that Whoever Is in Charge would eventually intervene and put me back in my old place. I had imposter syndrome first as such a young parent, then as a student, and finally as a minister. The person’s words struck that most tender part of me. You should think less of yourself, they were saying. But self-doubt was already kicking my butt. Here’s an example that seems wild in hindsight: after the first year of ministry I purchased a house I hated, because it was in one of the most reliable seller’s markets in town. I couldn’t afford a nice one in that area, and I wanted to be sure I’d be able to get out of my mortgage if the congregation decided I wasn’t worth keeping. After all that education and formation and a whole year on the job, and even though I loved the work, I still wasn’t sure if I was a real minister, who could really do the work. I didn’t know if I was good enough. (I was good enough! My house, which I was ironically stuck with for a long time, was not).

My loved one’s words were a classic example of crab-bucketing. That’s when one person starts to lift themself up, and others in their family or community pull them back down: Don’t get too big for your britches! But obviously, I had been doing a pretty good job on my own.

I know I’m not the only one. Imposter syndrome, the feeling that we are “faking it” despite all of our accomplishments and that others might “find out,” is pretty common. Why?

There’s a branch of therapy called Internal Family Systems that views our inner worlds (our minds) as functioning kind of like a group of people. Within each of us there are “parts” that we can think of as characters. For example, a part that wants to protect you from rejection by pushing other people away could be thought of as The Security Guard. The part that wants closer relationships, even if it means being more vulnerable, might be The Good Friend. You may have a fearful part, an inner critic, an inner child (I know, please keep reading anyway), a wise elder that knows better than to put too much stock in the others, etc. Each part came to exist for a good reason, even if it is now functioning in a detrimental way. Growth comes from understanding each one’s purpose and getting them to cooperate in service to your health and goals.

Imposter syndrome is like crab-bucketing from within. You might really believe in what you’re doing. You’ve got the mission oriented part of you working together with your inner organizer and a creative part and even a part that enjoys attention. And then here comes ol’ Crab Bucketer.

People in their early twenties may experience it as a delayed feeling of adulthood. Why are people acting like I’m an adult? I don’t feel ready for this! If (or when!) imposter syndrome returns, it may sound like: Why have I been accepted to this program? Why would anyone would hire or pay me to do this job? Why would anyone give thousands of dollars to a congregation I lead? Who am I to speak with the media? You may experience intrusive worries or visions of failure, or find yourself procrastinating or losing motivation for a dream or goal you’ve been working toward.

It is natural to experience some imposter syndrome in life. It tends to accompany being new to a role (family, professional, or leadership), applying a new skill set, starting a big project, asking for or making more money, taking on new responsibility, receiving affirmation from others (as with ordination), or increasing your visibility.

In addition, as clergy, we work in a realm that often has no clear answers, whether the questions are theological, institutional, or interpersonal. The bar for entry into the vocation is typically high. And we are expected to continue learning and growing throughout our careers, which means we know we don’t know everything, but we also don’t know what we don’t know. And we are doing it all, including the learning curve, in public! Unless you are, as my friend Paul puts it, “often wrong but never doubtful,” all of this can be quite humbling.

If each part exists for a good reason, what is the purpose of Ol’ Crab Bucketer? Well, it may genuinely help keep our egos in check. That’s not a bad thing. And, if we dig a bit deeper, maybe it also serves to warn us about possible social ramifications of getting ahead of ourselves, and nudges us to take our work seriously. That’s okay too. The problem is when the voice of self doubt drowns out the other parts of us, or when it is echoing negative messages we have internalized from others.

There’s no need to be afraid of getting too big for your britches when you’ve done so much growth and development. Trust your path. Trust your heart. Trust the process and your ability to figure things out. In the words of my favorite Peloton coach: you’re too big a person for smaller pants.

A few years ago, I experienced one of the Rev. Karen Gustafson’s awesome Life Review Retreats. There, as the name suggests, I reviewed my whole life up to that point, gathering up seeds of wisdom. Even though I no longer struggled with the imposter syndrome of early ministry, I still felt some tenderness- kind of like an old injury- when I reached the part of my life story where my loved one made that comment. When I told Karen about it, she shrugged and said in the most loving, matter of fact way, “What if you are better than everyone else? So what?”

I cracked up laughing. She was right. So what? So what if we go for it, and do great things? So what if we step into new roles and even big ones, even if we aren’t perfect? So what if you get too big for your britches?

Welcome to the Tight Pants Club.

The Tight Pants Club

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