It started the way all great journeys do: with an overwhelming sense of not belonging. Picture this—me, fresh out of college, sitting in my first writing meeting at a glossy local magazine. Everyone else seemed impossibly cool, like the kind of people who know which vintage shops actually have the good stuff, not just dusty prom dresses from 1987. I was just there in my Target jeans and shaky confidence, clutching my notebook like it was a life preserver and praying no one noticed I didn’t belong. This isn’t my scene, I’d whisper to myself. I’m an imposter. Any second now, someone’s going to figure it out.

Sound familiar? Impostor syndrome has been our collective frenemy for decades. It’s that nagging voice in your head whispering, “Who do you think you are?”—but with all the charm of a mosquito buzzing around your ear at 1 a.m. It doesn’t matter how or where it shows up—your new job, your new relationship, your abrupt decision to take salsa lessons even though you have the coordination of a newborn giraffe—it’s always there, making itself at home in your self-doubt. But guess what? The impostor in you isn’t real. You’re just not fluent in your own awesomeness yet.

Let me walk you through how I shut that voice down—one shaky but deliberate step at a time.

The Awkward Beginnings: You Have to Start Somewhere

Let’s rewind to that writing gig. When I walked in, I didn’t see someone qualified or creative. I saw a small-town girl with roots in storytelling but no “real” experience, at least not the kind that came with an impressive LinkedIn resume or casual name-drops of Pulitzer winners I’d met at swanky New York parties (spoiler: I’d met none). I compared myself to everyone—foolishly forgetting that comparison is the thief of joy, creativity, and reasoning.

And that’s the thing about impostor syndrome: it thrives on overthinking. So, you feel out of place. Okay, cool. Sit with that. Call it out. Say, “Hey, anxiety, thanks for showing up, but I’ve got work to do here.” Then, do the thing anyway—even if your mental pep talks sound about as convincing as a Hallmark movie subplot.

Bravery Is Embarrassing at First—Lean Into It

My first article assignment was a profile on a Nashville fiddler who played in dive bars to pay his rent. Hands trembling, heart skipping beats like an old mixtape, I asked him where his inspiration came from. His response? “Whiskey and heartbreak, sweetheart.” I laughed nervously, badly fumbled a follow-up question, and wrote my piece through the haze of thinking I was a total fraud. Yet that article ended up being the local editor-in-chief’s pick of the month. Go figure.

Here’s what I learned: bravery, especially at the start, feels a lot like awkwardness. You're going to stumble. You might even flop. But growth isn’t a curated Instagram highlight reel—you’re going to cringe at your early efforts, and that’s okay. Keep going anyway.

Pro tip: Treat impostor moments the way Southerners treat thunderstorms. Acknowledge them for what they are—loud, inconvenient, and temporary—but don’t change your plans because of them.

Find Your “Dolly Moment” (Or, Be Ridiculously Authentic)

Dolly Parton—Nashville’s crowning jewel, iconic singer-songwriter, and queen of rhinestones—knows exactly who she is. She once said, “Figure out who you are and do it on purpose.” And you know what? She’s right.

Impostor syndrome usually kicks in because you feel like everyone else knows something you don’t. But I’ve found that doubling down on your strengths—quirks and all—makes the self-doubt a little easier to quiet. My Dolly Moment came when I realized I could write about relationships the way I’d written country songs: with humor, heart, and an unapologetic accent on the truth. You don’t have to be someone else to earn your place—your voice, your style, your perspective, are precisely what makes you belong.

Build a Playlist for Growth

Here’s something quirky I recommend: create a hype playlist. For me, it’s a mix of classic country with a little Lizzo thrown in for confidence. There’s just something about hearing “Good as Hell” at top volume that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I’m unstoppable.

The point here is to put yourself in a headspace where confidence feels inevitable—like you’ve put on armor made of energy, optimism, and a healthy dose of delusion if needed. Confidence doesn’t always come naturally, but you can absolutely fake it until you make it. And yes, that includes curling your hair like Beyoncé’s or wearing those boots that make you three inches taller.

Tiny Wins Make Big Waves

Self-doubt often feels overwhelming because we think we need to achieve something enormous to counteract it—like write a bestseller, nail a TED Talk, or suddenly become fluent in French to impress your crush on date three. In reality, what builds confidence over time are micro-wins—small, consistent acts that remind you you’re capable.

For me, it was committing to write every day. Whether it was a full article or a single sentence, I showed up. For you, it might be speaking up in your next work meeting, politely disagreeing during a heated family debate, or finally asking your barista what their name is after months of nodding politely like they’re an AI bot.

Impostor syndrome whispers that you’re only as good as your biggest victory. Reality says every bit of effort compounds over time. Trust the process.

Impostor Syndrome in Relationships: The Underrated Saboteur

Let’s not forget about impostor syndrome in matters of the heart, because oh, does it love to pop up there too. Whether you think you’re not good-looking enough, charming enough, or interesting enough, it’s easy to feel like the weakest link when you’re getting to know someone new. (I once brought a date to a Poetry Night and spent the entire evening convinced he thought I wasn’t deep enough. Spoiler: his favorite poem was about tacos. I was fine.)

The trick here? Remember that relationships are partnerships, not competitions. Stop focusing on what you lack and start noticing what you bring—kindness, humor, Spotify recommendations that are objectively excellent. Besides, people know when you’re faking it. Authenticity is much sexier than pretending you know how to pronounce “quinoa” without hesitation.

The “Expert” Moment (It’s Closer Than You Think)

The funny thing about overcoming impostor syndrome is that you never really notice the exact moment it loses its grip. If you keep showing up to your life, doing the hard, brave, unglamorous work of being yourself anyway, you'll glance back one day and realize: It’s gone.

For me, that moment came while leading a writing workshop for aspiring Southern storytellers in my old Nashville high school gym. I caught myself mid-sentence—explaining metaphor the way you shower a friend with breakup advice—and thought, “Who am I to be teaching this?” But then I looked at those students’ faces, eager to soak it all in, and realized: I’ve put in the work. I know my stuff. I’ve earned this.

You will, too.

Closing Note: Claim Your Spotlight

Impostor syndrome isn’t a life sentence. It’s just a passing phase, part of the growing pains of stepping into the person you’re supposed to be. Whisper this to yourself if doubt creeps in: “I belong here.” Then say it louder. Say it over Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5” or in the mirror as you straighten your posture and smooth your shirt. Believe it even if you don’t fully buy into it yet. Because nothing quiets that mosquito-like buzz faster than owning your place—and singing your song, quirks and all, without apology.