If you’ve ever walked into a job (or a relationship) and thought, "Surely someone’s going to figure out I’m winging it," congratulations—you’re a member of the Impostor Syndrome Club. Membership dues are paid in sweat-soaked palms and late-night spiral sessions wondering if you’re good enough. I’ve been there, countless times. Whether it was overthinking a first date, fumbling through my first real job, or choking back anxiety while answering, "So, where do you see yourself in five years?" (My unspoken answer: "Still figuring out why I even got invited to this party"), I know what it feels like to think you’re getting away with something just by showing up.
Here's the thing, though—impostor syndrome doesn’t mean you don’t belong. It means you care. And caring, though it makes you vulnerable, is the secret sauce to growing into your role. So, let’s talk about it: how to move from that shakily smiling “What am I even doing here?” version of yourself to someone confidently owning their space—whether it’s at work, in relationships, or while navigating the unpredictable rollercoaster of life.
The Messy Middle: No One Starts as an Expert
I’ll let you in on an embarrassingly vivid memory. My first day as a program director at a local nonprofit felt like being cast in a musical where everyone knew their roles and choreography except me. People threw around grant-writing jargon like “RFPs” and “fiscal sponsorship" while I mentally Googled how to reply without sounding clueless. I spent an entire staff meeting nodding so much you’d think I was auditioning to be a bobblehead.
It wasn’t always work. I also struggled in relationships—wondering if I was a fraud for pretending to feel confident during conflict or casual dates. In my early twenties, I felt like Carrie Bradshaw minus the killer wardrobe, floundering over sushi dates in Austin while trying to sound worldly (pro-tip: don’t pronounce "nigiri" like it rhymes with a car brand).
But spoiler alert: none of us start as experts. Whether you’re figuring yourself out professionally or emotionally, growth is gloriously and spectacularly messy. The perfectionist in you might demand otherwise, but give that side-eye because, honestly, it’s in the flux where learning happens.
Small Shifts That Changed Everything
So how do you stop feeling like you’ve got imposter tattooed on your forehead? I don’t claim to have all the answers, but here are three lessons that turned my self-doubt into, well, slightly less self-doubt (progress, right?).
- Pretend You’re Talking to Your Best Friend.
Ever noticed how good we are at hyping up our friends but can barely muster a whisper of kindness for ourselves? When faced with professional or personal doubts, I started asking myself, “What would I say to someone I love in this exact situation?” Oddly enough, my pep talks to myself became much warmer (and way more effective).
Example: A friend texts, “I finally got a second date with someone I like. How do I not overthink it?” My response to them? “Focus on having fun, not being perfect. If they like you, it’s because of you, not some fake version of you.” And yet, when I’m the one searching through my closet sweating about my "cool person" outfit, I somehow convince myself my worth rides on the romper I choose. The solution? Extend yourself the love and grace you’d offer your BFF. Bonus points if this works when talking to your mirror. (It’s not weird, I swear.)
- Fake Confidence. Find Curiosity.
Pop quiz: what’s better than being the smartest person in the room? Being curious. Hear me out—confidence feels impossible when you believe you’re not "qualified," but curiosity? That’s accessible to everyone. I stopped worrying about whether my ideas or questions seemed elementary and started approaching situations like a rookie detective: How do things work here? Who can teach me? What am I missing? (And is it inappropriate to bribe people with cookies for tips? Asking for a friend.)
This shift helped me stop comparing myself to people who had a decade more experience. In dating, it meant asking meaningful questions instead of working overtime to perform “charming Harper.” Turns out, people (and coworkers) love someone who genuinely listens instead of trying to impress through scripted quips.
- Track Wins—Even the Tiny Ones.
You know that feeling of crossing something off a to-do list? It’s an endorphin rush I’d bottle if I could. I began creating a mental scrapbook of wins to fight back against impostor thoughts. That awkward presentation where nobody asked questions? It wasn’t a flop—it was step one of your public speaking arc. The breakup you navigated without throwing your entire personality in the washing machine to please them? That’s growth.
I’ve even started doing this daily. Before bed, I jot down one thing I did right that day, however small. Ate lunch without working? Victory. Replied to that tough email without buffering for three hours? Triumph. Showed up to date three with someone great, even though my inner critic screamed "Too soon to wear sweatpants”? Major win.
Permission to Be a Work in Progress (From Someone Who Still Kind of Is)
The more I’ve reflected, the more I’ve realized that the key to credibility—whether professionally or otherwise—has nothing to do with having all the answers. It’s about how you carry yourself, even when you don’t. Transparency, vulnerability, asking better questions, and showing up fully? That’s the stuff people remember. Nobody becomes Beyoncé on Day One—she had Destiny's Child rehearsal outfits first.
Cut to me today: still awkward, still figuring it out, still very much wearing metaphorical training wheels in certain life areas. The difference? I now own my seat at the table—or the date-night sushi counter—because impostor syndrome no longer wins the narrative I tell myself.
So, if you’re stepping into something daunting—be it lean-in-worthy career moves, freshly-single firsts, or committed love’s “Are we even ready to split the Netflix password?” territory—remember this: you’re allowed to not have everything figured out. Go in, mess up, and learn so much you surprise even yourself.
You’re not an impostor. You’re just in the middle of becoming an expert. And trust me, you’re a lot closer than you think.
