"All this happened, more or less."

This birthday was a difficult one for me - for reasons you'll read below. Lunch hall duty (in between active monitoring, of course) provided time for me to write through my feelings as I approached this milestone. I debated whether or not to share this highly personal journal entry, but ultimately, this is who I am at this moment, and I believe in the power of writing to work through difficult emotions. The process did prove cathartic, so I share as a reminder that writing works, and the harder it is to write about something, the more we need to do it. I'm not sure if what I ended up with is poetry, prose, or incoherent rambling, but here it is - raw and real. It needs revision and editing, but I'm not going to do it this time. What I wrote through glassy eyes between checking passers-by for their ID badges is what will remain.

The idea for the following poem came from a freewriting exercise during poetry club. My students and I listed all the things we were not , and I wrote "confident." This is the result of musing on that subject: Imposter Syndrome by Amber Counts, April 2018 Searching for symptoms on WebMD Often results in one diagnosis: I’m dying. Most roads lead to cancer. But what about psychological symptoms? Patchwork quilting, Ordered chaos. Symptoms touch. Overlap. But no cancer here. Well, almost no cancer. Though ailments may fester and grow like cankerous sores on the psyche, They often defy simple self-diagnosis. Of one diagnosis, I am sure. I suffer from “Imposter Syndrome.” The symptoms? Perfectionism Overworking Undermining one’s own achievements Discounting praise Burnout Sleep deprivation Common thoughts? “I must not fail.” “I feel inadequate.” “I got lucky.” Traits? Diligence Giftedness Lack of display of confidence