Mastering Myself

Imposter Syndrome is Real

May 20, 2026

Welcome back. This week, I am delving into agency and starting the real work of taking up space in ways I have been resisting. But if you are to write a good memoir, there needs to be some self-reflection, and I think that means being willing to open up about yourself, particularly when it gets uncomfortable. That is where the magic is found. Thanks for dropping by to read my words, as always.

For ages, I have been reluctant to talk about my masters degree. I worked very hard for that degree, but it seemed every time I brought it up, particularly online, someone would counsel me not to be too uppity, or I might turn people off. Or, someone would actually say something trollish about, ‘You sure think you are all that, don’t you?” And not all of these messages were coming from men. I have had friends tell me to be careful about bringing it up too much, and these are not women who were jealous in any way. They generally had advanced degrees themselves, and they knew what kind of responses one opens themselves up to if they are a woman who dares to be intimidating and take up space.

Apparently, being driven enough to jump through all of the hoops of an advanced degree, and let’s not pretend we don’t all know they were hoops, and that anyone with enough drive and energy can get an advanced degree. Well, as long as they are independently wealthy, or don’t mind being in debt for the rest of their lives, that is, but I digress. What I am trying to say is that the friends were simply warning me that by looking too smart, or too driven, or too brash, or taking up any space, even if that space is only online, a woman has to develop a thick skin for the trolls who will be waiting to try and make you feel small.

So for years, I opted not to take up too much space. I mean, I didn’t hide the fact that I had the degree, but I stopped talking about it, about the thesis I poured my heart and soul into, one that was not in just one but three disciplines, because if I put my mind to something, I am nothing if not an overachiever. So, I got my masters from Goddard College in the three disciplines of creative writing, studio art, and environmental studies back in 2011.

And yet, it’s now 2026, and I found myself uncomfortable talking about it here on substack with @Jeannie Ewing when she asked me to tell her more about my degree. I immediately shied away, telling her I would think about how to describe it and get back to her. That was not a lie. I did need to think about it, but also, as a regular meditator, I have learned the workings of my mind, and I do notice when things are firing from a place of fear. I didn’t want to respond from that place.

I have been sitting with my fear on this issue curiously observing it and occasionally prying my fear with questions to get to know it a little better, maybe find some understanding and common ground. After all, I have already realised that I have been staying small. Hiding has been the name of the game. I am tired of hiding. I started working on my memoir during my undergraduate work in my creative non-fiction and poetry writing, even in some fiction storytelling and illustrating, as well. No matter what medium, my art always returns to animals, often the animal friends I made at the zoos or met somewhere in my travels. It’s just what sparks my creativity, as it turns out, since I gave myself the gift of an art class at RMWC and ended up double majoring for my undergraduate in creative writing and studio art. Have I mentioned overachieving?

Anyway, it was clear that my graduate work would be about animals, and it would be multi-media, and it would be using art to bring more power to my words or vice versa. I have since learned that one does not outshine or outpower the other. Both these practices are equally powerful in their own rights. Put them together and that is where I find the magic. When I began to delve more deeply into these ideas with help from a fantastic cast of professors who guided me through my research, helping me to bring all of these disciplines in to begin writing very personal essays on how what I was learning or had learned already had come from my past, was changing me in the now, and exploring how these lessons might enrich my future.

But, at the start of this learning curb in graduate school, I was not prepared to start with me. I wanted to start looking as far from me as possible. But this is not the way. Or at least, it was not the Goddard College Way. So, I started at the very beginning, and I actually started to write my memoir in a much richer, more in-depth way. And again, I had the women in my life cautioning me to be careful just how much I was willing to open up and share. Because, if you are a woman and you attract any kind of attention, there will be consequences that are entirely different for a woman than they are for a man. These people were not wrong. They still are not wrong. It’s hugely frustrating to watch our country backslide and actively attempt to take our rights from us to keep us small even today.

You would think that in this dark time in our country, I would be shying away from actually starting to post the memoir I have been writing for years now. And, believe me, it was not easy to actually watch my posts continue to go live. You will notice that most of them are about the animals more than they are about me. I’m still uncomfortable delving too deeply into my more personal and vulnerable parts of the story. That will change as I continue to edit, revise, and write this project moving forward. I feel like a butterfly who has just come out of their cocoon, and their wings are still wet and too small to work properly. I have to stretch them and let them dry in the sun for a while, before I can actually take flight. But, nothing gets me revved up and ready to go against the grain than a bunch of white men taking my bodily autonomy away and talking about my body their choice.

The time is now. I will not cower, now remain small one moment longer. It’s actually, in my mind, not a possibility anymore. And knowing that it could literally get me killed, or worse, in America that is supposed to be so great again, I actually know I’m not safe. The truth is out of the closet, the cats are out of the bags, there is no going back into the dark for women, unless I want to get back in the kitchen barefoot and pregnant where these old men think I belong. This is when I start kicking and screaming and taking up space. There is a rage burning under my skin. And I have got to turn that rage into something useful, lest it eat me alive.

How to be useful is the question I’m grappling with now. I am no journalist, nor do I want to be. I am a Femenist, sure, but it’s not my specialty, and I am not driven to write about it. But I am driven to write about animals. This is where I can be useful. Nobody does animal care like me. And let me be clear. I do NOT mean I do it better than others. I mean, I am me, and my way of doing things is solely mine. Animals have taught me what it is to love and be loved unconditionally. They have made me more empathetic, less afraid, more able to cope with the world around me, more willing to get to know and communicate with beings very different from myself. Best of all, they have taught me how to lead with kindness because kindness matters. Especially when times are tough and others are being blatantly and horribly unkind. This is the time when kindness matters most.

Now, am I saying you shouldn’t want to yell at assholes? Of course not. My Roshi, or Dharma teacher, once told me “If someone is being an asshole, you get to tell them they are an asshole. You don’t have to be kind to your abusers.” I have kept that bit of rather obvious advice close to my heart and I often think of it now, when I am calling my absentee Congressmen to find out why they are falling down on the one job of theirs that is most important, which is upholding the Constitution. But, I will let others rant about that topic, and I will enjoy reading them and feel less alone. In the noise of the chaos and their ensuing rants that are simply all another way for the GOP to mask that they are stealing from the American people at every turn, I just keep returning to my animals, their stories, and the ways those stories have enriched my soul. It seems a prudent time to share them.

But what about agency? That was the first thing I asked my best friend. To which she answered by rattling off a whole bunch of my accomplishments that give me plenty of agency. I literally have years and years of caregiving experience with both human and non-human animals. I have a whole career as a zookeeper behind me, where I was blessed to have met so many amazing animals from all over the world. I have traveled all over the world meeting even more animals in the wild, as well. And, last but not least, I have an Interdisciplinary Masters Degree in Creative Writing, Studio Art, and Environmental Studies. Oh my. And here I was still thinking I didn’t have enough agency to write about myself and my experiences and share what I have learned along the way. It’s a horrible symptom of the even more horrible sickness that is Patriarchy. And it is so hard to recognize in yourself, and even harder to overcome and begin to work towards healing from such deep wounds that have left so many crusty scars behind.

And here is where I begin to flip the script back to a more positive place. Because, if I am going to practice kindness, I have to start with myself. I spend a portion of my day every single day fighting the Patriarchy and trying to save our democracy. I give as much money to these causes as I can. But, when it comes to my art, I am going to work from the places I know, and tell the stories I have lived, and begin to spread my wings and proudly take up space. Nobody is shoving me back into a closet. I don’t care how much money they have nor how much power they think that gives them. The best way for me to fight is to allow myself to take up space, and to honestly talk about the things I know, and my experiences.

In order to be able to create, to get out of bed each day and face the ongoing shitshow that is America, I am going to have to keep looking for the light and writing about where I saw it last, or how something gives me glimpses of that light in the darkest of times. It’s not me ignoring the darkness, nor is it me being complacent, as I am doing what I can daily to write and call and interact with our law makers and representatives. But, then, I turn my eyes towards my art, and the concept of Animanity, which simply means looking at the state of being animal, since humans are indeed also animals. Maybe if we act from a place of community with them rather than that of dominance, we can begin to make more positive change for all of our earth community.

Thanks as always for stopping by and allowing me to take up space in your busy lives. I am always grateful for every single one of you. If you would like to support my work, please consider upgrading to a paid subscription. Also, comments and questions are always welcome and encouraged here. See you next week, same time, same place.

A Zookeeper's Memoir

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