Imposter syndrome is the belief that you don’t belong in the rooms you find yourself in. It’s the paranoia that at any given moment they’ll find out and call you a fraud.
*** This is Part1 of a two-part educational blog series. Be sure to check out
Part 2 Releasing Imposter Syndrome.***
Of all the things I’ve dealt with on my personal development journey, none has been as crippling as imposter syndrome.
The thing I realize about imposter syndrome is that it’s not a complete lack of confidence. Typically, on some level you know you belong in the room. But there’s a part of you—an annoying, doubtful whisper that worries you constantly. This nagging terrified voice incessantly warns you that others will soon see through your confidence act, discover you’re inferior, and banish you from the room.
So where does imposter syndrome come from?
Honestly, I’ve been dealing with this since at least kindergarten. And based on my experiences and observations, I’d have to say that imposter syndrome is the uninvited “plus one” of trauma. It sneaks in under the trench coat of traumatic experiences.
Now, remember by my definition #trauma is a moment in time when what you believed dramatically shifted because of an unexpected experience. Trauma—by my definition—can be anything from not getting the part in the school play to overhearing your mom tell her best friend you’re “too slow to catch on.” It can be something you experienced, something witnessed, or even something you saw on TV. The main thing is that trauma occurs when what you knew to be true was proved wrong—it’s the moment your foundation of certainty on that topic shifted.
I believe imposter syndrome sneaks into our lives alongside these uncomfortable moments. For me, it entered when I was eagerly telling a story to my older sibling, and they scoffed dramatically, while I was midsentence, and said, “Oh my gawd. You know you’re using that word wrong, what do you think an ‘ottoman’ is?” The disgust in their voice, mixed with the air of superiority, screamed, “How could you possibly be that dumb?”
It was the most jarring gut punch. I had used that word the same way in so many conversations, because I was certain it meant what I thought it did. I felt embarrassed and confused. I just knew they had to be wrong. I argued my case, left the room, grabbed a dictionary, and discovered they were right. Webster confirmed that an “ottoman” is an “an upholstered often overstuffed seat or couch usually without a back,” not an unexpected obstacle you trip over. My use of context clues while watching the intro of The Dick Van Dyke show had completely failed me.
My world was rocked. That day I decided, “I can’t trust what I think I know.” And from that day forward, I second guessed my correct usage of “big” words and questioned my certainty. I would never take that chance again. I never wanted to be embarrassed like that, again.
To this day, each time I’m brave enough to utilize my wide vocabulary, I wonder if I’ve chosen the correct word. If you listen to my podcast, you know I still do this. Since I have made my podcast my space to be free and imperfect, I’ll just say the word, wonder if I used it correctly, out myself for it and move on. However, in social settings, like when I’m hanging out with high school friends, I typically feel inferior. If the topic is deep and intellectual, I just sit back and listen. I attended a high school filled with the smartest students in my city. To this day, I still cannot make sense of how I got in. When I took the entrance exam, I felt like a kindergartener taking a statistics final. I KNEW I was out of my league. Despite being accepted to the school and graduating with a 3.3 GPA, I still felt like an idiot. I made great lifelong friends, but continued to feel intellectually inferior. And this is how imposter syndrome creeps in.
Imposter syndrome keeps us out of rooms we belong in. We have the intelligence, the skills, and the credentials. We absolutely belong in the room. But old doubts linger.
And that’s the thing about imposter syndrome. It causes transference. In a counseling relationship, transference is “when someone redirects their feelings about one person onto someone else.” It typically happens without even noticing. For example, let’s say you were bullied in grade school by a mean girl named Rachel. She always chewed gum with her mouth open, and did this annoying hair flip thing, and always rolled her eyes whenever she passed your desk. Thirty years later, you’re sitting in the boardroom scowling at Lisa from Accounting as she flips her hair over her shoulder while smacking on gum. Although Lisa has never been unkind toward you, you just don’t like her for some reason. That reason is transference.
Imposter syndrome works in a similar way. After that initial moment of trauma, it stays with you. It looks for people, places, and opportunities that could potentially replicate that uncomfortable moment. And when things feel familiar, it goes into high alert. It causes you to second guess yourself at work. It causes you to question the opportunities you currently have and avoid new ones. In meetings, on Zoom calls, and during presentations, you find yourself thinking, and even asking your co-workers, “Did that make sense? Did I sound stupid?” Imposter syndrome convinces you not to go for the promotion, to not pitch your idea, and to just keep a low profile. It tells you to be careful whenever there’s a chance that you’re not the smartest, most qualified, or credentialed person in the room. It taps into that secret fear from your past trauma, and fills you with anxiety. Then, it offers suggestions to “help” you avoid impending doom.
Imposter syndrome is the residue left behind when “they” rocked your certainty. That seed was planted when they convinced you it’s possible that you don’t know what you think you know, that you’re not as awesome as you think you are.
The problem with beliefs we develop in childhood is that we make rules out of individual moments. If one person is mean to us, we now think all people are mean. If we have one embarrassing moment, we think that all moments can possibly end up being embarrassing. So even thought that one instance, where we got it wrong was simply a moment, we carry it over to new moments and throughout our lives. Hence, that instance of using “ottoman” wrong 30 years ago, has turned into a present day terror of calling someone by the wrong name. So I will go and double check before calling that new friend, therapist, or client by their name, for fear that I’ll be wrong and embarrassed.
When I looked back on that moment that created this insecurity, I realized that using the wrong word in front of the one person on earth who meets all intellectual mistakes with complete shock and disgust, left me with a deep wound to my self-esteem. And each time I was corrected by that person, or others, a deep groove was formed in my mind about my ability to trust my intelligence.
As unfortunate as this is, it also gives me clarity on how to heal this wound. The wound was created by an overexaggeration of my mistake and a series of similar experiences that solidified the belief. With each experience, I affirmed that “I can’t trust what I think I know.” When we continue to affirm a belief, we solidify it.
Two major ways to heal and release long held beliefs is through inner child work and positive affirmations/mantras. I will explain how to use both in Part 2.
I hope you enjoyed and gained insights from Part 1! Thanks for being here.
Blessings!
Marlene Dillon Empowerment Specialist
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