From Impostor to Expert

There’s nothing quite like that gut-twisting moment when you suddenly think, “Wait, do I even belong here?” For me, it came during a dinner party in a sunlit Kennebunkport kitchen, where the host casually asked me to expound on my “deep expertise” of 19th-century schooner construction. (Reader, I don’t have deep expertise. I once skimmed a book on shipbuilding basics for a subplot in a romance novel.) But there I was, swirling a glass of sauvignon blanc, pretending I hadn’t just Googled “parts of a schooner” in the pantry five seconds earlier.

Sound familiar? Maybe your “schooner moment” happened at work during a client presentation, or while dating when someone referred to you as “mature and put together.” (You, a person who ate tortilla chips for dinner... again.) Impostor syndrome—we’ve all danced with this unwelcome partner. It sits heavily on your shoulder, whispering you’re not enough. But here’s the thing: You can silence it.

I did, and I’m here to tell you how you can too—whether you’re navigating a new relationship, settling into a long-term commitment, or simply figuring out who you are. Spoiler: It’s equal parts practice, perspective, and a willingness to laugh at yourself.

The Three Lies of Impostor Syndrome

First, let’s unmask impostor syndrome by calling out the three lies it loves to tell:

  1. “You’re faking it, and everyone knows.”
    Reality check: People aren’t scrutinizing you like an eagle-eyed judge on The Great British Bake Off. They’re too busy worrying about their own overdone pastry edges.

  2. “You’re not qualified.”
    Whether it’s showing up boldly in your career or finally asking someone out, stop undermining yourself. Guess what? No one has it 100% figured out, least of all the people who appear to.

  3. “You got lucky.”
    Did you stumble into every success of your life? Or did you work at it, learn as you went, and bring your own flavor to the table? (I’m going with option two.)

That voice in your head isn’t truth—it’s doubt wearing fancy clothes. Time to strip it down and claim your spot as the expert of your own life.

The Sea Captain Manifesto: Embrace What You Know

Growing up in a family obsessed with maritime history meant every summer felt like a salty episode of Jeopardy!. “What’s the difference between a brigantine and a barque?” someone might bellow over a platter of steamers. If you didn’t know the answer, you’d better learn—or at least fake it convincingly.

There’s a lesson here: Even when you don’t feel like you know everything, focus on what you do know.

  • Anchor yourself in your strengths. In relationships, this might mean embracing your empathy, humor, or razor-sharp wit.
  • Be willing to learn. Let curiosity guide you instead of fear. That vulnerability to admit you don’t know something? It’s magnetic.

Think of yourself as a sea captain steering through unpredictable waters—you don’t have to memorize every star in the sky to chart a course; you just need the courage to set sail.

Practice Makes Presence

During my post-college wanderlust in England, I often felt totally out of my depth. I’d stroll cobblestone streets, visit literary sites, and brush shoulders with Oxford intellectuals discussing the symbolism of rain in Wuthering Heights. Meanwhile, I prayed no one would call attention to my American accent or ask my opinion on anything too clever.

All those moments of quiet uncertainty taught me this: Confidence isn’t innate for most people. It’s practiced.

Here’s how to build it:

  1. Say yes before you feel “ready.” Feeling unqualified is your inner imposter’s favorite excuse to hold you back. Squash it. During my early writing years, I almost turned down a freelance assignment because, in my words, “I’m hardly an expert on Maine lighthouses.” Spoiler: I became one after tackling the project.

  2. Act like someone who’s sure. When the red light on imposter thinking flashes, channel someone you admire. Think, What would a confident version of me do right now? Then do that.

  3. Celebrate small wins. Whether it’s nailing a first date’s vibe, finally broaching a tough discussion with your partner, or just not saying anything embarrassing in a meeting, success is cumulative. Don’t skim over the tiny victories—they build your foundation.

Let Mistakes Light the Way

Here’s a secret about self-doubt: It’s terrified of imperfection. But if you ever hope to mute that inner critic, you’ve got to embrace the awkward, glorious mess of making mistakes.

Take dating, for example. During one summer regatta, I eagerly accepted an invitation to sail with a very charming, very seasoned skipper. He was rugged in that Gordon Lightfoot way, and I instantly decided I’d impress him with my “sailing prowess.” What followed was an afternoon of tangled lines, poorly executed tacks, and, at one point, an unintentional overboard somersault. (Do not ask how.)

Reader, I learned two things that day:
1. A little forced humility never killed anyone; it just left a bruise or two.
2. Pretending to be flawless doesn’t work—whether you’re tying knots or trying to connect with another human.

Mistakes don’t destroy you; they define you. People don’t fall in love with your perfection. They fall in love with who you are when you admit what you don’t know and laugh through it anyway.

The Quiet Power of Owning It

One thing I love about long walks on Maine’s rocky beaches (aside from the sea air, of course) is how they remind me of something simple: Nature doesn’t apologize for showing up exactly as it is. Those jagged cliffs and tide pools don’t ask for permission to exist. They just do.

You can, too. Whether you’re navigating a new relationship, re-learning how to be on your own, or just trying to be, lean into the confidence that you belong in this moment exactly as you are.

And the next time your brain tries selling you the impostor lie, do what I do: Picture yourself holding a schooner’s wheel, chin high, salty wind in your hair. Not because you know everything about sailing (you don’t). Not because you’re perfect (please). But because the only requirement for steering your own ship is showing up and deciding to try.

So try. Then laugh when it goes sideways. (And if you do end up overboard, splash loudly—life is too short for quiet mistakes.)

Anchors Aweigh

Impostor syndrome isn’t something you “fix” once and for all; it’s something you learn to quiet. The next time it creeps in from the corners of your mind, remind yourself of this: The expert is simply the person who showed up, kept learning, and decided to believe in their capacity to grow.

That’s you. It’s been you all along. Even when you felt like a fraud in a kitchen or on a sailboat or wherever life put you. You’re the real deal. And the best part? No schooner expertise required.