You Are NOT... The Weakest Link

We just finished taping the final episode of Season 1 of Have I Got News For You, the CNN show I’m on with Roy Wood Jr. and Amber Ruffin. Thankfully, a second season has been ordered, so I’m not bereft or anything because we’re back in a couple months, but I wanted to take a moment to express my gratitude that I have a job, that the job is continuing, and that I really love the job. It’s perfect.

For one thing, my responsibilities are almost nil. I show up, hang out in my dressing room, get some hair and make-up slapped on, throw on comfortable clothes, shoot for a couple hours, and go home. And they pay me! It’s great. But, more than that, it’s just a pleasure. I like the people I work with, love meeting the guests, and I enjoy watching them shine. We’ve had such a plethora of interesting and funny guests. Today, for example, the journalist Kara Swisher was on and spent most of the episode making fun of me. I loved it.

Look at these idiots.

And here I will confess to a lot of insecurity. Many times, like tonight, I leave the taping thinking everybody else was great and I was… fine. I promise, I’m not fishing for compliments here or in the rest of this piece so I beg you, no assurances in the comments section, please, but I’m surrounded by so much talent that it’s easy to feel like I’m the weak link. If I step back and try to think about it as objectively as I can, I realize that’s silly. Roy is the weak link.

(That’s a joke.)

The last ten weeks of episodes have made me consider more deeply how I think of myself as a performer. This has been a perennial issue. I want very much to be a smart comic who says smart and funny things, and sometimes I am, but most of the time I just feel like a fraud. Imposter Syndrome is common enough in all professional endeavors except, perhaps, politics. In that field, it seems like not only do they all feel as if they deserve to be there, but that they ought to occupy a higher office than they currently hold.

Performers, on the other hand, are notoriously insecure. We present ourselves to the audience and hope that, as Sally Field once marveled, you like us, you really like us. More than that, I hope that I like myself. Too often, I do not. Common enough among all people, I know, but the banality of the sentiment doesn’t make it any less painful. Time and again, I find myself falling short in my eyes. Never a good feeling, made worse by my own seeming inability to do anything about it.

Of course, we are always our own worst critics. We find flaws in ourselves where others do not. Jung writes about the “shadow self,” those aspects of ourselves we seek to hide from the world. Too often, I feel as though my shadow self announces itself at the most inopportune times. When I’m trying to film a television show, for example. My shadow self is a critic and a bully and somebody who doesn’t cover his mouth when he sneezes. Horrible.

Those of us who feel ourselves to be frauds will never be convinced otherwise. All we can do is take solace in the knowledge that we’ve fooled enough people to immunize ourselves against prosecution for our misdeeds. How ironic that our nation is about to be run by actual frauds who have immunized themselves against prosecution for their misdeeds. Is it better to believe yourself to be credible when you are not, or less than credible when you are? I don’t know. I mean, how could I know? After all, I’m a fraud.

Look, I know that I’m capable enough. It’s just that my expectations for myself appear to be higher than my own ability to meet them. It’s a disappointing way to conduct one’s life, but I am resigned to it. To the people out there who meet or exceed your own expectations, congratulations. That must feel awesome. I suspect I will never know the feeling.

I’ve had this conversation with my co-star, Amber. She is one of those lucky few who believes in themselves. I admire that very much. She also happens to be deserving of her own self-confidence. She’s funny and charming and I love her. Sometimes after a show, I will ask her how she feels. “Great!” she’ll say, and I can only marvel. Maybe it’s because she grew up in Omaha, where you have to believe in yourself simply to survive the winters.

Show biz will knock the confidence right outta you. It’s an industry built on rejection, vulnerability, and the filthiest of lucre. No wonder so many celebs end up with broken marriages, broken lives, and inadvisable amounts of plastic surgery. And those are the lucky ones! Those few, those “happy” few who somehow figured out how to make a home in a town of tinsel.

For the record, I do not watch the program and probably never will. I tried, once, when it first came on, but found I had to turn the channel within moments of seeing my own stupid, grinning mug. By God, what a mug.

Anyway, as I said, I’m not fishing. I just wanted to express what I think is a pretty common phenomenon. Also, to reassure you that YOU are doing great. It’s easy for me to say, of course, because I am not you. But I know that most of us struggle with our self-worth. How could we not when we are inundated with media promising us beautiful lives if only we buy the right car and brush our teeth with the right toothpaste. We’re victims of our circumstances – when we were living in the Saharan bush in clans of no more than a couple dozen, it was probably a lot easier to understand your own place in the tribe. Now, not so much. And that can leave a lot of folks feeling pretty insecure. Not Amber, of course. But the rest of us. If you’re feeling Imposter Syndrome, just know that you’re not an impostor. You’re just a person doing their best. Your best is probably quite good. Take heart. And I will try to do the same. I will fail, of course, but that’s because I am the weakest link. I’m kidding. It’s Roy.