“The Fraud Police Wuz Here” is scrawled across my brain, in garish but really ineffectively applied spray paint. With drips and spelling errors and terrible kerning, as is often applied by predictably rebellious teenagers. Making every designer cringe, partially from the ugly design, but also partly from fear that the Fraud Police will pop up and follow you home.

This time the Fraud Police brought along some friends called The Keepers of Safeness, and the Reality Checkers.

First, the Fraud Police said:

"Who are you to write about gardening and plant care? You haven't even watered your African Violets this week. You can't even manage that. Your mom is the gardening expert, you don’t actually know anything about it, you’re a fake."

Then, the Reality Checkers said:

"Don't write a gift guide, reality check, no one needs more stuff, you bloody capitalist. And don’t write about moss balls either, no one cares about them anymore, and you’ll just make yourself look ignorant and naive."

Then, the Keepers of Safeness gently reminded me that:

"People on the internet are really horrible and mean. Did you see what that influencer said in her stories about how nasty people are? You're already quite fragile, being an internet personality is really NOT SAFE. It's probably the worst idea you've had for a while. You should just stick to ghostwriting, then no one knows your name, much SAFER.

So, I didn't write any blogs for myself last week, or this week. And I thought maybe I am out of control, maybe it's reckless to think I could manage being any sort of influencer on the internet.

And then I fussed with my plants a bit. Ok, more than a bit. Plants don’t talk back or judge me, ok? They literally don’t even know I exist, it's kind of refreshing.

And I talked to some excellent friends.

I shared a huge scary audacious idea with a trusted confidant, and they didn’t tell me it was impossible. They told me it would be hard, but that they thought it was a really cool idea full of big love.

I shared my shame over “who am I to talk about anything” with another friend. And they were like “Oh hell no! Who aren’t you to talk about these things?!” And they got super excited about an idea and believed in me. And they shared some of their own experiences with impostor syndrome and recommended a book to me (for probably the 11th time).

After, I felt a bit better. A bit braver. A bit less like an impostor.

So I fussed with my plants some more. Journaled a bit. Started reading the book (The Practice by Seth Godin). Got a little bit of work done.

And when I turned around again, the Fraud Police were gone. and so were the Reality Checkers.

The Keepers of Safeness were still here. But, when I reminded them that I knew they were just trying to protect me, and that I appreciated their concern, but that I'm a big girl and can handle some of my own decisions now, they anxiously agreed to go. Wringing their hands, whispering, glancing back with worry until they were out of sight.

Thank god my plants (and friends) don't care what the Fraud Police or any of their friends think of me.

p.s. I started writing about this topic in my emails newsletter this week, have you signed up yet? You can sign up here.