Melissa Stephens Art

As I’ve written in a previous post, I am a storyteller. Unfortunately, sometimes the stories I tell myself like, “you’re not really an artist” and “you’re not very good” and “no one is going to like that,” are not very kind. The chorus of voices in my head can be downright nasty, repeatedly chiding me, in an uber-critical tone, of my shortcomings. As you might suspect, when I listen to that self-sabotaging dialogue, those stories I tell myself can become powerfully limiting beliefs. If I believe I have no talent, if accept I have no original ideas, then I am paralyzed by self-doubt and fear that, most days, disguise themselves as procrastination. Instead of confidently getting to work on my art, I tell myself I don’t have enough time to paint or I allow myself to tidy my studio instead of painting or I convince myself I shouldn’t waste my art supplies. It’s safer, I think, to make excuses than to make art, that’s the story I tell myself.

Imposter syndrome is the root cause of many of the unkind stories I tell myself. The NIH describes imposter syndrome as self-doubt of intellect, skills, or accomplishments. Even when I could stand behind the armor of 8 years of higher education, 3 years of post-graduate residency training, and a stethoscope, I had imposter syndrome as a physician. As time went by it got easier for me to tune out the gremlins that claimed I was an unqualified fraud, but that tired, old story never fully went away. Now that I’m making art, imposter syndrome is back with a vengeance and I’ve got nothing to protect me: no art degree, no formal training, no painters in my family tree, and no talisman like my trusty stethoscope to ward off the trolls in my head. They accompany me into my studio, their chatter reinforcing a story I tell myself that is far from complimentary!

That could be where my story ends. If I listened to the demons, I could easily succumb to the fear and the doubt and the feelings of inadequacy and never pick up a paintbrush. But I don’t. I won’t. I love the process of making art too much. I love the discoveries, on the paper or canvas and in my life. I love the opportunity to learn and grow. I love the challenge, the creative puzzling. I managed to practice medicine for 30-some years with that narrative on repeat in my head and I’m not about to let it stop me now! The voices told me I wasn’t ready to host the gallery show last month. They insisted I needed to wait until I had taken more classes, had more experience. If I had listened to their rants, I never would have displayed 25 paintings for the public to see. How tragic would that have been? Because at the opening reception, when I chose extreme vulnerability (it felt like I was wearing my insides on my outside) instead of my old set of armor, when I allowed friends and family to see and embrace this new side of me and to surround me with their love and support and kind words, I heard the beginnings of a new story. That day will forever be one of the most uplifting experiences of my life! However, if I had listened to my limiting beliefs, I would have missed it.

This month, as I deliver paintings from the show to their new homes, I’m reminded that imposter syndrome is an incredibly debilitating story that fuels many of my limiting beliefs and could easily stop me from growing as an artist, if I let it. Instead, I endeavor to tell myself a different story, one that is gentler and more positive and encouraging, one that says I AM good enough, I AM ready – today, now! Like a mantra, I repeat the last line of the phrase below. These words, from one of Art’s t-shirts, have the power to encourage all of us to re-examine our limiting beliefs and recognize them for what they are, the unfortunate byproducts of unhelpful and untrue stories we’ve been telling ourselves for ages, stories that no longer, and frankly never did, serve us. The time is now for a new story, let’s not wait, because:

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See ….. there really is no Someday.