The Fear of Being Found Out
I Keep Waiting for Someone to Say, "You Don't Belong Here."
Yikes.
If my aim were to pick blog topics that make my skin crawl, I'm off to a great start.
Impostor Syndrome.
I started digging into the term's origin, curious whether there was any consensus in the medical community on what exactly it is. While I'm still not sure how seriously professionals take WebMD, I appreciated their clean, simple definition:
If my aim were to pick blog topics that make my skin crawl, I'm off to a great start.
Impostor Syndrome.
I started digging into the term's origin, curious whether there was any consensus in the medical community on what exactly it is. While I'm still not sure how seriously professionals take WebMD, I appreciated their clean, simple definition:
"Impostor syndrome is when you doubt your own skills and successes. You feel as though you're not as talented or worthy as others believe, and you're scared that one day, people will realize that."
That tracks.
What’s interesting to me is how impostor syndrome becomes a self-sustaining loop. It doesn’t always begin with failure. In fact, it often doesn’t. It might creep in during a class discussion or at a new job. You know the answer, but you stop raising your hand. You hold back from offering an idea. You assume everyone around you already knows what you know, and probably more.
The trickiest part? Success doesn't fix it. For me, it often makes it worse.
You get the promotion, the grade, the funding, and instead of being validated, you feel exposed.
Thank God they didn’t notice I barely pulled that off.
They must have made a mistake.
Next time, they’ll figure it out.
And so it continues. The next project, the next paper, the next performance. Each summit you reach isn’t a moment to celebrate. It is a reminder of the mountain range ahead, and of how far you still feel like you fall short.
And still, we keep climbing.
Most of us do, anyway. We keep showing up to class, to work, to the meeting where we don’t quite believe we belong. And slowly, over time, we realize something: almost everyone else is doing the same. The people you admire most might be fighting the same battles, just better dressed.
Impostor syndrome doesn’t vanish overnight. But naming it helps. And I’ve learned that sometimes, feeling like a fraud is the best sign you care enough not to fake it.
But I also wonder. What if impostor syndrome isn’t only about self-perception?
What if it’s also about the systems we move through?
The more a space values prestige, exclusivity, or expertise, the more it invites people to question whether they deserve to be there. It makes “belonging” feel conditional. In that way, impostor syndrome isn’t just a personal issue. It is a structural one. And naming it can be an act of resistance.
So here I am, writing about impostor syndrome.
I'm already wondering whether I’m the wrong person to do it.
Already thinking someone else could say it better.
But I showed up.
I wrote it.
I hit “publish.”
Maybe that’s enough, at least for today.
What’s interesting to me is how impostor syndrome becomes a self-sustaining loop. It doesn’t always begin with failure. In fact, it often doesn’t. It might creep in during a class discussion or at a new job. You know the answer, but you stop raising your hand. You hold back from offering an idea. You assume everyone around you already knows what you know, and probably more.
The trickiest part? Success doesn't fix it. For me, it often makes it worse.
You get the promotion, the grade, the funding, and instead of being validated, you feel exposed.
Thank God they didn’t notice I barely pulled that off.
They must have made a mistake.
Next time, they’ll figure it out.
And so it continues. The next project, the next paper, the next performance. Each summit you reach isn’t a moment to celebrate. It is a reminder of the mountain range ahead, and of how far you still feel like you fall short.
And still, we keep climbing.
Most of us do, anyway. We keep showing up to class, to work, to the meeting where we don’t quite believe we belong. And slowly, over time, we realize something: almost everyone else is doing the same. The people you admire most might be fighting the same battles, just better dressed.
Impostor syndrome doesn’t vanish overnight. But naming it helps. And I’ve learned that sometimes, feeling like a fraud is the best sign you care enough not to fake it.
But I also wonder. What if impostor syndrome isn’t only about self-perception?
What if it’s also about the systems we move through?
The more a space values prestige, exclusivity, or expertise, the more it invites people to question whether they deserve to be there. It makes “belonging” feel conditional. In that way, impostor syndrome isn’t just a personal issue. It is a structural one. And naming it can be an act of resistance.
So here I am, writing about impostor syndrome.
I'm already wondering whether I’m the wrong person to do it.
Already thinking someone else could say it better.
But I showed up.
I wrote it.
I hit “publish.”
Maybe that’s enough, at least for today.