That has been the question of the month for me. As I enter my second year as a ‘writer’, it’s been interesting to watch myself – the writer in me – unfold. It’s not as if I stand in front of the mirror each morning and say ‘ah look at you, you big writer!’. I do often stand in front of the mirror and say ‘Jaysus, you’ve gained an extra chin overnight Orla’, or ‘Wait a minute, is that actually my arm or is it a sack of flour someone implanted on me while I was asleep?’. I suppose, watching myself unfold is not far from the truth…

I digress… What’s been most interesting to me in the ‘unfolding’ is that I’ve been hit with imposter syndrome. We all get it. In all walks of life. Whether you’re working in the IT department and you feel like you’re not as well educated as your colleagues, or you’re cleaning the floors in a psychiatric unit and you have this awful feeling that your co-worker is using a superior cleaning product. Or, like me, you’ve joined a writing group and you’re convinced that anything you write is simply laughable and just not worth putting pen to paper. Or fingers to keyboard. It’s that feeling of I’m not good enough to do this, that bombards your mind.

It’s crazy really. I get to say that, because I was once certifiable. Come to think of it, I wonder if that certification has an expiry date. Probably not. Cool.

Today, I want to write about confidence, self-belief, authenticity, and not giving any more fucks. I don’t consider myself a modern day ‘woo-woo-er’, but I do believe in the power of ‘if you believe it, you can do it’ sort of thing. My journey as a writer began exactly 2 years ago, when I had a phone call with Liam Hayes from Hero Books, to discuss with him whether or not my story was worth writing about. The story about the shy girl who went off to America and had all kinds of jobs from a cookie maker, to private investigator, to squash coach, to personal trainer, to stand-up comedian. The truth be told, there is absolutely nothing special about this story. It was Cliona Foley who nudged me two years prior in 2018, in an interview on Off the Bench, that I should consider writing my memoir. She put me in touch with Liam, and the ball started rolling.

But what was my hook? I didn’t have one. Sure, I had mental health struggles. Sure, I was practically a concert pianist at one point in my life. Sure, I have some funny stories. But what was the draw? Why would people be interested in reading my memoir?

You’ll notice I haven’t once mentioned the gay thing. That’s because up until recently, I didn’t want the gay thing to be a big part of my story. Why? Because I was never fully secure in myself to stand up and scream proudly to the world that I am gay. And why is that you might ask? I suppose it’s because I always believed it was a sin, that I was a lesser citizen than my fellow non-gay friends, that I would always be judged, and that I was just never really ‘as good’ as the person next to me.

These thoughts over the years contributed to my decline in mental health, my insecurities, my lack of confidence, and often times, my paranoia. These were the things that drove me into psychiatric wards time after time after time. Because I felt as if I wasn’t GOOD ENOUGH.

I am now realizing that I had IMPOSTER SYNDROME towards LIVING my TRUTH.

I know I’m rambling here, but I do have a point. As I’ve watched myself unfold (in ALL senses of the word), at age 51 I am realizing that until I finally accept myself for who I am, until I embrace my flaws, my character traits, the very essence of who I was born to be, then I cannot be authentic. And here’s the kicker: When you find your authenticity, the imposter syndrome slips away.

But you’ve been writing a blog for over a year now, it’s so good, you’ve been published, you’ve written for national newspapers, you’re constantly on the radio, Orla. I hear the cries. Yes, yes, I have. That’s because I have balls of steel. But it doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m always confident about writing. Those balls of steel were not always there either. They came from the nurturing I’ve been getting from my writing group, and from my family. I didn’t just wake up one day with these balls. (I’d say my partner would have gotten an awful fright).

Sometimes I wake up and I simply don’t want to face the day. I’d rather stay in bed and play some silly blockbuster game. But then I remind myself how bloody good it feels to write. That’s what I’ve done today. I looked in the mirror and said “You ARE a BIG WRITER”. Quite literally. No more muffins for me.

While avoiding eye contact with my Word Game earlier, I came across this fabulous quote, from William Kenower: 

“You are not meant to suffer for your art. No one is. Suffering is not romantic or beautiful; it is just a misunderstanding. It is definitely true that if you want to write, if you want to make anything on purpose, you will suffer a little discomfort. You may even suffer a great deal, so much that you fall off your beam and lie for a time in a heap of despair. That’s fine. You won’t be the first writer to do so. Eventually you’ll get bored of just lying there and you’ll regain your equilibrium and climb back on the beam. If you listen carefully, you’ll hear your guidance speaking again”.

This quote is relevant to all walks of life, not just writing. If you’ve fallen off your beam, it’s okay. Maybe you’re resting. I sure did. For the last 6 weeks. (Mind you, I prefer to picture a small step-ladder. I can’t imagine I’d be able to get UP on a beam, let alone fall back down). If you accept that this is all part of the process, part of living, part of evolving, and God forbid ‘unfolding’ (I’m really stuck on that word today), then when you’re ready to climb back up, the time will be right. 

When I was training for the European Masters Squash Championships in 2019, at my fittest ever both mentally and physically, my performance coach used to say to me “Orla, you’ll land where you land”. And despite having lost a family member to suicide two weeks before the championship, which resulted in me drinking and smoking my way out of sadness, I still went to the championships. I forgave myself for ruining a whole year of training with two weeks of depressed debauchery. I went, I competed, and I won Gold. You see, I’d already put in all the work, so that small ‘falling off the beam’ didn’t matter.

I recently won a bronze medal in the World Masters Championships in Poland. And as luck would have it, I’ve injured my neck and subsequently having surgery in two weeks. It’s not a decision I rushed into, I weighed all the pros and cons and discussed with my family and friends. It feels like the right thing to do. And during my recovery, a sort of forced falling off the beam, I will finish my first novel. #Goals.

When I started writing this blog 18 months ago, I spoke about how blessed I am to still be on this earth. So many of our friends have popped off far too soon, a little earlier than we had hoped. It’s a privilege to still be here, so today I ask you to remind yourself how lucky you are. How lucky you are to still have the chance to do what you want. Remind yourself how far you have come. How much work you have put in, be it for your family, caring for a parent, interviewing for a new job, finishing that novel, competing in that race. Remind yourself how much you love what you do. Remind yourself that you are the only person who can do all the things you are doing. Remind yourself there is only ONE YOU. And if you’ve taken a break, or feel like you’re not good enough, remind yourself that you ARE. I said so. (I swear I’m not woo-woo). Everyone feels imposter syndrome. As human beings, we can’t escape it.

Now, I’ll waddle down off my soap-box here and continue my preparation for surgery in 11 days. Clean living until the surgeon peers over me with his scalpel. I’ll gaze lovingly into his eyes, and whisper “I’ll be watching you if this doesn’t turn out well”…

So, turn on some Chumbawamba right now (I get knocked down…), and remember this:

Enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think…