Imposter syndrome

I have a friend who is wildly successful at what she does, but suffers from imposter syndrome. She’s worried someday that she’ll be found out, that everyone will see her as she sees herself: an imposter.

I frequently worry about that as a parent. Somehow, I’m certain that the world will look beyond my kid with special needs, and the fact that he’s walking and talking and working and happy — which I attribute far more to God’s loving hand than my bumbling efforts — and see me and my other children and know the truth. I am a lousy mother.

Yet, once in a while, I get a small affirmation about the decisions I make as the mother of my other two children. In today’s mail, someone in my other son’s life took a moment to say thanks and add the observation that makes every mother’s heart sing … “I respect and admire your ability to let him take the lead with his own destiny — not an easy thing to do, mom, and not something I see every day.”

There you go, Michael. I’m not the best, as moms go, but it’s sure better than a stick in the eye.

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