I’m pretty sure most of us struggle with impostor syndrome. A lot. Like, I could probably teach a masterclass on doubting myself. And the wildest part? How easy it is to see the brilliance in others—their talents, their successes, their magic—while being completely blind to our own.
The other day, I was raving to a friend about how amazing she is at her job—her creativity, her leadership, the way she makes everyone feel seen. “I wish I had half of your skills,” I told her, genuinely. She laughed and said, “Are you kidding? I feel like a fraud every day.”
We both just stared at each other. Shocked. How could she not see what I saw so clearly? And then it hit me: we all do this.
Impostor syndrome is sneaky. It doesn’t burst through the door screaming; it just kind of sits there in the background, quietly whispering things like, “You’re not good enough,” or “You don’t really belong here.” And sometimes, we believe it.
Lately, I’ve been trying to talk back. When that voice shows up, I pause and acknowledge it. “Ah, impostor syndrome, there you are again.” It sounds ridiculous, but weirdly, it helps. I also started a “Proof of Awesome” folder on my phone. Every nice email, every project I’m proud of, every time someone says, “Hey, you did great.” I save it. On the bad days, I open it up and remind myself: I did that.
I’ve also realized that talking about it helps. One of the most surprising things about impostor syndrome is how universal it is. The moment I admitted my self-doubt to a friend, she said, “Wait, me too.” Turns out, we were both sitting there, assuming the other person had it all figured out.
Reframing things has been interesting, too. Sometimes, when I catch myself thinking, “I have no idea what I’m doing,” I try to add the word yet at the end. It’s a small shift, but it reminds me that learning is part of the process. No one knows everything from the start.
And then there’s self-compassion, which, let’s be honest, is a work in progress. I try to remind myself to talk to me the way I’d talk to a friend. If a friend told me she felt like a fraud, I wouldn’t say, “Yeah, you should probably quit.” I’d remind her of all the times she showed up, figured things out, and did the thing. So, I’m learning to do the same for myself.
Impostor syndrome might never completely go away. Maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s just a sign that we care, that we’re stretching into something new. And isn’t that where the magic happens?
So, tell me—do you ever feel like this, too? What helps when those doubts creep in? I’d love to hear, because something tells me we’re not alone in this.
