For years, I've been carrying a secret that weighed heavily on my shoulders. Like an unwelcome shadow, it followed me through meetings, presentations, and even celebrations of my achievements. That secret has a name: imposter syndrome.
Today, I'm finally ready to speak about it openly.
Living in Fear of Discovery
Imposter syndrome isn't just feeling occasional self-doubt. It's the persistent, nagging conviction that you've somehow fooled everyone around you—that you don't truly deserve your achievements, and it's only a matter of time before someone discovers you're a fraud.
Every compliment felt like a ticking time bomb. Every promotion came with the thought: "If they only knew the truth about me." I became an expert at deflecting praise, attributing successes to luck or the work of others, because deep down, I couldn't accept that I had earned them.
The fear of being "found out" was paralyzing. I'd obsessively over-prepare for meetings, triple-check emails, and work longer hours than anyone else—not out of dedication, but out of terror that anything less would expose my perceived inadequacy. Plus, I was stuck in my own head thinking that I wasn’t smart enough, good enough and that even when I was tasked with doing something people were saying or even worse thinking my exact same thoughts.
The Mental Health Toll
What many don't realize about imposter syndrome is the severe mental health burden it creates. For me, it manifested as:

• Constant anxiety that churned beneath the surface of every professional interaction
• Cycles of perfectionism that led to burnout, followed by even more self-criticism
• Isolation, as I withdrew from mentorship opportunities or networking events where I felt I didn't belong
• Depression that deepened with each achievement, as the gap between public perception and my self-image grew wider

The cognitive dissonance of appearing confident while feeling like a fraud was exhausting. I spent so much mental energy maintaining this facade that there was little left for creativity, growth, or simply enjoying my work. And let me say this, even when I thought I would break free from the imposter, something would happen and my confidence would disappear.  I think more than anything the mental health toll of trying to overcome these feelings was the worst.
Why I Couldn't Talk About It Until Now
Discussing imposter syndrome felt impossible for several reasons:

1. Vulnerability felt dangerous. Admitting these feelings seemed like confirming my worst fears—that I really didn't belong.
2. Mental health stigma is real. Despite progress, discussing psychological struggles in professional settings still carries risk. I worried about being seen as unstable or incapable, or being labeled as a complainer.
3. The paradox of success. The more I achieved, the harder it became to admit my feelings. "How could someone in my position feel this way?" I'd think, not recognizing that achievement and imposter syndrome often grow together.
4. Lack of language. Until I learned about imposter syndrome, I didn't have words for what I was experiencing. I simply thought I was failing at being the person everyone thought I was.

The Turning Point
My silence broke when I overheard someone confess to feeling like an imposter themselves. They then went on to describe what they were feeling.  I didn’t know until this instant that what I was feeling wasn’t an isolated event but that others felt this way also and this feeling had a name. At this point, it was as if a mirror had been held up to my experience.
If they could speak their truth, perhaps I could find the courage to speak mine. Heck, I make my living talking and speaking to others and hopefully inspiring them.  It was time that I truly started to not just study this phenomenon, but to make it part of my scholarly agenda.
Moving Forward With Authenticity
I won't pretend that writing this post has cured my imposter syndrome. Those thoughts still visit me. But sharing this experience has loosened their grip in ways I never expected.
What I've learned is that imposter syndrome thrives in isolation and secrecy. By bringing these feelings into the light, they begin to lose their power. By connecting with others who share similar experiences, we create space for authenticity.
If you recognize yourself in these words, know that you're not alone. Your feelings don't define your worth or capabilities. And perhaps most importantly, the very fact that you worry about not being good enough often means you care deeply about doing meaningful work—and that's a strength, not a weakness.
I'm sharing my story not because I've conquered imposter syndrome, but because I'm learning to live with it honestly. And in that honesty, I'm finding a freedom and connection I never thought possible.
This is just the beginning of my journey. I hope by breaking my silence, I might help someone else find their voice too.
 

Calling all imposters.  Have you been doubting your intelligence, know how, and ability to perform?  Is there something that paralyzes you when it come to performance?  Do you not know how to take a compliment?  Give yourself a pat on the back for doing a good, great, or even awesome job?  This is the place for you.  Share your thoughts here.  This is a judgment free zone.