I’m there again, in that nasty little space marked self doubt. It doesn’t matter that I can tell myself I’m OK at what I do, or that colleagues tell me I’m great at what I do. There’s still this niggling sense of inadequacy that come back as a roar on some days, the feeling that I’m not good enough and that people are too kind to tell me this. Logic tells me I wouldn’t still be employed in this capacity if I were rubbish at it; I take no notice. Experience tells me that I must be all right at it too, because the students don’t flock to tell their leaders otherwise. But today I had to hand in a feedback form that had open criticism of a colleague on it, and ask that it be kept discreet. I wonder if others have done the same for me, to save my getting angry or upset?
I’m not sure I can blame the Goblins for this one. It’s been there a lot longer than I’ve been a goblin hunter. And I still don’t know why it happens because its in the face of evidence. I know I’m not and am never likely to be the world’s greatest teacher; it doesn’t bother me that much. If I can be the best I can be, that should be enough. But today I even doubt that.
I blame my hormones again.