When I was 25 and standing in front of a classroom full of high school juniors in Queens, all fidgeting in their chairs and debating the finer points of who would win in a fight—Batman or Spider-Man—I had a thought that haunted me: “How did I end up here?” It wasn’t the physical place that confused me. I knew the commute by heart. It wasn’t the students either; they were exactly as chaotic and lovable as you’d expect. No, the question was about me. When I cracked open "Things Fall Apart" for the first time with them and said, “Let’s talk about Okonkwo,” I half-expected one of them to leap up and shout, “You’re a fraud, Mr. Okoro!”

That feeling—the gnawing self-doubt, the “What if they find out I’m faking it?” dread—isn’t new. It’s got a name: impostor syndrome. We’ve all met it before. It shows up uninvited, with its scuffed shoes and bad vibes, whispering, “You’re not good enough.” Whether it’s starting a new relationship, taking a career leap, or trying to parallel park as someone watches (a uniquely personal nightmare, I might add), feeling like an impostor is almost a universal part of growth. But here’s the thing: It doesn’t get the last word.

The Spotlight Effect: Why You’re Not Fooling Anyone

Listen, impostor syndrome has this funny little trick. It convinces you that you’re constantly under the spotlight—every move scrutinized, every flaw magnified. In reality? Most people are too busy worrying about their own perceived flaws to notice yours. They’re wrapped up in their own “What if they’re onto me?” spiral.

I think back to when I moved to Brooklyn as a kid. My first day of school was a cultural shock buffet: new accents, new slang, and peanut butter sandwiches (an American mystery I still find questionable). I was terrified someone would figure out I didn’t belong. But the truth? Those kids weren’t auditioning me for a starring role as “the immigrant kid.” They were just trying to make it through P.E. class without tripping over their shoelaces. That was my first lesson: folks have their own insecurities. Don’t give yours too much credit.

Learning the Script: From Surviving to Thriving

If you’re stuck in impostor mode, it’s tempting to try to “fake it ’til you make it.” And sure, sometimes that works. (Shoutout to the time I confidently nodded at a sommelier’s wine recommendation, even though I only tasted “grape juice, but make it bitter.”) But the goal isn’t to fake it forever. It’s to learn, grow, and trust yourself enough to believe you’re exactly where you need to be.

Here’s how you can step out of impostor territory and claim your space—whether in the boardroom, at a dinner party, or batting eyelash messages at your crush.

  1. Reframe the Fear: Impostor syndrome is a sneaky teacher in disguise. If you’re doubting yourself, it probably means you’re stepping out of your comfort zone. That’s where the magic happens. Next time that voice whispers, “You’re new here; don’t mess it up,” flip it into, “You’re new here, AND that’s exciting.” It’s a shift I had to make in teaching. Instead of fearing I wasn’t ‘experienced enough,’ I leaned into being a fresh pair of eyes for my students.

  2. Celebrate Your Wins: Big or small, every win matters. Got through a nerve-wracking first date without spilling drinks or rambling about your childhood pet hamster? That counts. Landed a project at work you’ve been eyeing? Mark it. Back in my early writing career, I’d downplay every milestone: “Oh, they only published me because they had a deadline to meet.” Now? Nah. I’ll romanticize opening an acceptance email like it's a scene in a Nollywood drama.

  3. Compare, but Make it Healthy: Look, we all fall into the trap of comparison. (Thanks, Instagram.) But what if, instead of letting it spiral into “Why am I not like them?” we tried, “What can I learn from them?” Watching older teachers at school showed me there's no one “right” way to lead a classroom. I borrowed, experimented, and eventually found my groove. Pro tip: Comparison is healthy if it inspires, not paralyzes.

When the Heart’s In It: Relationship Remedies for Self-Doubt

Dating? Oh, impostor syndrome LOVES relationships. You’re afraid you’re “not good enough,” that you’re simply a placeholder until someone better comes along. (Spoiler: You’re not.) At its peak, I once felt convinced that being soft-spoken meant I wasn’t “romantic” enough—like I needed to break out into a Ryan Gosling monologue from The Notebook just to “prove” myself. Let me tell you: that kind of pressure is unsustainable.

Here are a few lessons from the trenches:

  • Stay Authentic: Self-doubt loves to tell you that pretending to be more, less, louder, or quieter will make you more lovable. It’s a lie. People connect over shared truths, not curated personas.
  • Communicate it Out: Feeling unsure? Talk it out. Impostor syndrome thrives in silence. My fiancée and I once had a gut-spilling conversation about all the ways we’d felt unworthy in past relationships. It ended not in judgment, but laughter and clarity—and, of course, pizza.
  • Remember: It’s Not a Competition: Love isn’t a talent show where you’re competing for first place. So leave the “I need to be perfect” mindset at the door. Sharing your quirks is way more charming than nailing some imaginary “ideal partner résumé.”

Why Growth Feels Like Discomfort

Here’s the thing: impostor syndrome isn’t a bully you banish forever. It’s more like an overzealous side character who makes too many guest appearances. Every time you push into a new challenge, that voice might rear its head, saying, “Are you sure you belong here?” And, honestly, maybe it’s a perfect compass for progress. If it scares you a little, it’s probably worth doing.

Take Zadie Smith's words to heart: "Time is how you spend your love." Growth is the same—taking a chance on something new, even though you’re not 100% sure of yourself. That’s love—for yourself, your craft, or someone else. You learn by doing, by embracing the wonderfully terrifying discomfort of not having it all figured out… yet.

Own the Room (and Your Story)

I won’t lie to you: there are still moments, whether writing romance novels or navigating life’s endless relationship complexities, when I feel unqualified. But I've learned this: feeling like an impostor isn’t a sign you don’t belong. It’s a sign you’re trying, growing, and caring.

So the next time you catch yourself wondering, “What if I don’t measure up?” answer back, “What if I already do?” And then, as Okonkwo himself would, pick up that story (your story), face the uncertainty, and craft something unforgettable.

You’ve got this. Trust me, I’m an expert—or at least, a recovering impostor.