Imposter Syndrome Quotes

Maybe we all have imposter syndrome and perpetually feel like our real life is right around the corner,

We are wrestling with some form of imposter syndrome, unable to internalize and appreciate our own accomplishments

Imposter syndrome” wasn’t coined as a term until the 1970s, but it’s safe to assume women have always felt it: that nagging feeling that, even after you’ve just done something great, maybe you actually don’t deserve the praise.

You have heard of imposter syndrome? Everything in me screamed I am a fake! I do not belong here! Even after four thousand years of godhood, six months of mortal life had convinced me that I wasn’t a true deity.

His Infernal Majesty leans towards me confidingly. “You have imposter syndrome,” He says, “but paradoxically, that’s often a sign of competence. Only people who understand their work well enough to be intimidated by it can be terrified by their own ignorance. It’s the opposite of Dunning-Kruger syndrome, where the miserably incompetent think they’re on top of the job because they don’t understand it.

Penny Googled “imposter syndrome.” Informally used to describe people who are unable to internalize their accomplishments despite external evidence of their competence.

... I succeeded at math, at least by the usual evaluation criteria: grades. Yet while I might have earned top marks in geometry and algebra, I was merely following memorized rules, plugging in numbers and dutifully crunching out answers by rote, with no real grasp of the significance of what I was doing or its usefulness in solving real-world problems. Worse, I knew the depth of my own ignorance, and I lived in fear that my lack of comprehension would be discovered and I would be exposed as an academic fraud -- psychologists call this "imposter syndrome".

Imposter syndrome is a psychological pattern in which individuals doubt themselves and have a persistent internalized fear of being exposed as a fraud. Last year my friend Ingrid told me I had it. I had just told her that I didn’t feel like I belonged at my previous bookstore job. I told her that I didn’t really get 1984 and that I hate poetry — so I wasn’t sure if working at a bookstore was right for me. She told me, ‘You have a classic case of impostor syndrome.’ I told her that I’m not sure that’s a real syndrome. I said I wonder if everyone’s an impostor. What if beneath every lawyer’s suit and every stay-at-home-parent’s apron, everyone is just a baby who doesn’t know what they’re doing?

Expand! You are not small. Your Foremothers did not do what they did so you could occupy small!

Many students go through "imposter syndrome" as they try to assimilate into a professional culture.

The first problem of any kind of even limited success is the unshakable conviction that you are getting away with something, and that at any moment now they will discover you. It's Imposter Syndrome, something my wife Amanda christened The Fraud Police. In my case, I was convinced that there would be a knock on the door, and a man with a clipboard (I don't know why he carried a clipboard, in my head, but he did) would be there, to tell me it was all over, and they had caught up with me, and now I would have to go and get a real job, one that didn't consist of making things up and writing them down, and reading books I wanted to read.

Some years ago, I was lucky enough invited to a gathering of great and good people: artists and scientists, writers and discoverers of things. And I felt that at any moment they would realise that I didn’t qualify to be there, among these people who had really done things. On my second or third night there, I was standing at the back of the hall, while a musical entertainment happened, and I started talking to a very nice, polite, elderly gentleman about several things, including our shared first name. And then he pointed to the hall of people, and said words to the effect of, “I just look at all these people, and I think, what the heck am I doing here? They’ve made amazing things. I just went where I was sent.” And I said, “Yes. But you were the first man on the moon. I think that counts for something.” And I felt a bit better. Because if Neil Armstrong felt like an imposter, maybe everyone did. Maybe there weren’t any grown-ups, only people who had worked hard and also got lucky and were slightly out of their depth, all of us doing the best job we could, which is all we can really hope for.

It's easy for them to have opinions, and to express them with confidence. They don't worry about appearing ignorant or conceited.

I think what I really want is to treat life less like a war. Wouldn't we have less Imposter Syndrome and fewer actual imposters if we just lowered our standards a bit? Modern productivity dogma encourages us to act fast, and milk our exceptionalism for all it's worth. Under that kind of pressure, perhaps the truest rebellion is to embrace our ordinariness. In everyday life, if we could not only tolerate the discomfort, but wholeheartedly embrace our own lack of expertise, then we might have a far better chance of showing others the same grace. Then perhaps life might feel, at the very least, less agitating, at most, we might even find peace. How’s this? Let’s stoop below average at 50% of all we do. We’ll relish it, the commonness. Next time we have a question, let’s hold our for as long as we humanly can before googling the answer. It’ll be erotic, like edging before a climax. It’s quite nice, I am learning, just to wonder indefinitely. To never have certain answers. To sit down, be humble, and not even dare to know

Morrigan frowned. She sometimes felt that her true knack had nothing to do with being a Wundersmith. That it was, in fact, her remarkable ability to assume the worst. It came, of course, from a lifetime of believing she was cursed, and it seemed to be stitched into the very fabric of her being, even now. Telling her not to worry about bad things happening around her was like telling Hawthorne not to get excited about dragons, or Jupiter not to be ginger.

As soon as a challenge was overcome, it creased to be a challenge, becoming the expected and ordinary rather than something I had achieved with difficulty, and could, therefore, be justly proud of. I could not own my own triumphs, nor give myself credit for them.

I am becoming a tyrant, threatening in place of convincing. Unstable instead of steadying. I am suited to the shadows, to the art of knives and bloodshed and coups, to poisoned words and poisoned cups. I never expected to rise so high as the throne. And I fear that I am utterly unsuited to the task.

Absolutely everybody wants to be liked (law 1). Everyone feels different inside (less confident, less able, etc.) from how they infer other people to feel (law 2). Few honest and courageous people who have achieved anything of real value in life do not feel a fraud much of the time (law 3). Acceptance of these three 'laws' alone would save an awful lot of people an awful lot of grief!

This idea that you’re undeserving, a fraud—that you’re not as smart or talented or “together” as people might think makes you an “imposter” and therefore unqualified in whatever it is you want to do and someday you’re going to be found out. By whom? The imposter police? You’re not an imposter, you’re a human being.

Like so many men, he needed a woman stronger than himself, for behind the harsh cragginess of the Easter Island façade cowered the small boy, uncertain of himself.

The images had been provided by movies, books and Pathe News, and none included a six-foot tall Black woman hovering either in the back or in the foreground.

I graduated in 2004 with an English degree and a case of imposter syndrome so intense that I convinced myself I “didn’t have enough ideas” to become a writer of any kind.

I have no idea what I’m doing. No parent does. We’re all full of imposter syndrome, winging it every minute of the day.

I used to think I had imposter syndrome, but then I realized I was only pretending.

And here’s the thing that’s really sad: Imposter syndrome doesn’t just make you feel shitty about yourself, it also keeps you broke.

What happens when imposter syndrome has you in its grip?

Every written word is a war waged against imposter syndrome.

What is better than these two extremes - ego and imposter syndrome - but simple confidence? Earned. Rational. Objective. Still.

Holy imposter syndrome, Batman.

But when you harbor an inner script that treats you like the enemy, it doesn't allow you to soar for very long. Doubts nibble at the edges of your thoughts until they're the only voice left. Imposter syndrome secures its triumph and ushers in an era of self-sabotage. Then the carnival shuts down, packs up, moves to another town. And you're alone, hiding in the dark.

Capgras syndrome is a condition in which sufferers become convinced that those they know well are imposters. In Klüver-Bucy syndrome the victim develops urges to eat and fornicate indiscriminately (to the understandable dismay of loved ones).46 Perhaps the most bizarre of all is Cotard delusion, in which the sufferer believes he is dead and cannot be convinced otherwise.47

Do you know the power of your words? When you tell yourself stories that are not true your unconscious mind believes them. Your beliefs also can make you sick. You curse yourself by repeating lies.

Adrienne started teaching a few months ago in Denver and wrote that it leaves you with a constant feeling of deceiving people. That you know nothing they don't, or couldn't learn on their own if they cared to.

Connell initially felt a sense of crushing inferiority to his fellow students, as if her had upgraded himself accidentally to an intellectual level far above his own, where he had to strain to make sense of the most basic premises.

I feel successful 3–4 days a month. The other days I feel like I’m barely accomplishing the minimum or that I’m a loser. I have imposter syndrome so even when I get compliments they are difficult to take and I just feel like I’m a bigger fraud than before. I feel the worst when I get so paralyzed by fear that I end up huddled in bed and fall further and further behind. To make myself feel more successful I spend real time with my daughter every day, even if it’s just huddling under a blanket and watching Doctor Who reruns on TV. I also try to remind myself that people like Dorothy Parker and Hunter S. Thompson struggled as well, and that this struggle might make me stronger, if it doesn’t first destroy me.

There seems to be an unwritten rule, hurtful and at odds with the realities of American culture. It says you aren't supposed to wonder whether as a Black person, a Black woman, you really might be inferior––not quite bright enough, not quite quick enough to do the things you want to do. Though, of course, you do wonder. You're supposed to know you're as good as anyone. And if you don't know, you aren't supposed to admit it. If anyone near you admits it, you're supposed to reassure them quickly so they'll shut up. That sort of talk is embarrassing. Act tough and confident and don't talk about your doubts. If you never deal with them, you may never get rid of them, but no matter. Fake everyone out. Even yourself.

You're afraid that you suck. And - at least if you never try - no one (especially you) will be able to confirm that. Spoiler alert: This kind of thought doesn't come from an underachiever who's not good at anything. This kind of thought comes from a perfectionist. And truthfully? It's lame. There's so much incredible potential in you. But you're going to squander it because trying may or may not confirm that you're not as good as you thought you were. Stop being so hard on yourself!

Yes, you’re an imposter. But you’re an imposter acting in service of generosity, seeking to make things better. When we embrace imposter syndrome instead of working to make it disappear, we choose the productive way forward. The imposter is proof that we’re innovating, leading, and creating.

But Percy didn’t feel powerful. The more heroic stuff he did, the more he realized how limited he was. He felt like a fraud. I’m not as great as you think, he wanted to warn his friends. His failures, like tonight, seemed to prove it. Maybe that’s why he had started to fear suffocation. It wasn’t so much drowning in the earth or the sea, but the feeling that he was sinking into too many expectations, literally getting in over his head.

Most of us who struggle with imposter syndrome worry a lot about what others think of us. You need not concern yourself with a stranger’s negativity. You can spare a moment to feel empathy for the emotional pain that causes their caustic behavior and then move on to create something amazing in your life.

Welcome back our old friend imposter syndrome. The inescapable feeling that you do not belong. You could have worked your hardest, put your blood, sweat and tears into getting where you are today and still feel like at any moment the rug will be pulled from beneath your feet when everyone realises the failure you really are. With anxiety you worry, and even when you've put your most into this world, you will still worry, because anxiety is stupid and hateful. You worry that you're not doing well enough, you worry that your colleagues don't like you, you worry your boss thinks your work is fucking awful, you worry about talking to people, you worry about the commute, you worry and you worry and worrying is fucking exhausting. This all happens before you have even started work that day. This is the pre-game: inescapable fear, irrational dread, complete implosion of self-confidence, and you're only halfway through pouring your first coffee.

Now go Occupy spaces Fill the room Walk in your crown

Thinking Bigger Begin by dreaming. If another human being has done it, there’s a good chance you can do it too. You get what you focus on. If you are continually thinking of all the things that can go wrong, they will.

Humans are biased machines, and we are especially influenced by negatives. We want to believe the worst about ourselves and will pick those scraps up throughout the day and piece them together until we have something that we can look at and say, 'Look, arent I terrible' even if everyone else says otherwise. Maybe that's just me.

Imposter syndrome grew into self-doubt, and my thoughts snowballed from You aren’t good enough to write this essay to You aren’t good enough to write any essay. I was shame-spiraling, people-pleasing, and, most worrisome, when I wrote, I was performing for the white gaze and consumerism. Thinking of all the ways I would or could be applauded and praised for work I had yet to even complete. True to exactly what I research, fear, doubt, and cynicism were hindering my ability to be present. I had to tune out everything and every voice around me and remind myself that this work, like all my work, was a try. It was, and I am, allowed to be and become without expectation.

It might surprise you to discover that some of the superstars you see on the big screen or those entertaining thousands in stadiums, have moments of sheer terror before they go on stage. They also compare themselves to others in their field and worry that they will not live up to the expectations of those who are supporting and depending on them.

And woe betide the person with the 'double abnormality' of a false self and 'a fine intellect' that they find they can use to escape their pain. 'The world may observe academic success of a high degree, and may find it hard to believe in the very real distress of the individual concerned, who feels 'phoney' the more he or she is successful. [as quoted by Winnicott]

There’s just no owning any success you achieve and stacking it in your win column. The force just won’t let it happen. What happens when imposter syndrome has you in its grip? You become terrified you’ll be found out. Despite all her acclaim and success, this is what Maya Angelou feared. “I have written 11 books, but each time I think, ‘Uh-oh, they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody, and they’re going to find me out.’”1 You might be surprised to find out how many accomplished people think to themselves they’ll be “found out,” then ostracized and ridiculed. However, it’s irrational. It would only happen if you actually did have no skill, no ability, or no knowledge, but that isn’t the case for most people. This is the ultimate fear, isn’t it? Being found out and kicked out of our tribe? By nature, we’re tribal. Humans survived through the millennia because we were part of a tribe that hunted, gathered, sheltered, and protected one another from the elements, from predators, and from other tribes. You couldn’t be out hunting and watching the fire simultaneously. You needed other people if you had any hope of surviving through the night. If your tribe finds out you’re a fraud, it triggers that primordial “Uh-oh, they’re going to kick me out! I’m going to be caught in the wilderness alone!” When plagued by imposter syndrome, people don’t take themselves, their abilities, or their accomplishments seriously. If you don’t take yourself seriously on any Field of Play, you most likely won’t be getting the results you want.

At the core of the imposter syndrome lies low self-esteem, a feeling of unworthiness and the belief that appearance comes first and substance, second. We don’t believe that people will like us for who we are. We don’t believe that we are good enough. So being anyone other than ourselves must be an improvement. Remember as boys we would always pretend to be someone (or something) else? We would even argue over who got to be a certain hero and why. These heroes were bigger than life, bigger than us, but we were small, so that was OK. Playtime is over, yet many of us are still pretending. It’s no fun anymore. And it only keeps us small.

It's not to say that everyone at the school was rich or overly sophisticated, because that wasn't the case. There were plenty of kids who came from neighborhoods just like mine, who struggled with far more than I ever would. But my first months at Whitney Young gave me a glimpse of something that had previously been invisible-- the apparatus of privilege and connection, what seemed like a network of half-hidden ladders and guide ropes that lay suspended over-head, ready to connect some but not all of us to the sky.

much of class culture is about confidence. Confidence that might come easier to the middle and higher classes, while the working classes are constantly riddled with self-doubt and imposter syndrome.

Now I know for sure that the imposter syndrome I felt then wasn’t my fault. Jodi-Ann Burey and I explored how imposter syndrome has less to do with individual women’s failures and more to do with experiencing institutional bias:

Achievement without purpose is crisis.

I didn't know, for example, that there's a critical, but important, difference between happiness and its cousin meaningfulness. According to at least four articles on the internet, you know what the difference is? Turns out, happiness is about getting what you want. But meaningfulness is about expressing and defining yourself while you do it. The missing link.

Employees perform their job duties as described, first out of obedience, and later out of habit. "That's not my job" becomes a rallying cry. Deviation gets marked as defiance. Who gave you permission? Who told you that you could do that? There's a delicate distinction, though, between showing up to work and showing up to do the work.

But with one death comes many: your identity goes into a blender and your relationship to the world is forever changed. Things you thought were true suddenly aren't. The person you used to be? Not anymore. Maybe you can relate: if you've been through The Hard, then you know what it's like to be massacred by it.

Rather, there is another question that helps you put things into focus much more effectively. Anytime you've found yourself aced with an impossible decision, I've found it useful to ask yourself this: "What feels the most like self-respect?

Rather, there is another question that helps you put things into focus much more effectively. Anytime you've found yourself faced with an impossible decision, I've found it useful to ask yourself this: "What feels the most like self-respect?

There is a difference between being grateful and being gratified. A modern problem of privilege, to be sure, but a very real problem nonetheless. Most people will scoff that if you have the time to be bored, you can't complain, right? The rest of us have actual work to do! But chronic boredom doesn't come from not having anything to do: it comes from doing the wrong things. It comes from a fundamental lack of understanding of what you really want. Turns out, chronic boredom is actually an evolutionary response to destructive patterns. It's a signal designed to tell you to get the hell out of there, something doesn't feel right. Kids know this instinctively: anything even remotely boring, and they're out. But as adults, we've been taught to withstand. To persevere. To "keep calm and carry on." So we don't recognize the warning signal. We keep working for the wrong things.

I mean, where do you turn when you've already ticked off all the boxes? What else is there? I had built my ordinary, perfect little life, not realizing that ordinary often comes at the cost of extraordinary.

Choose to show up for yourself, and then actually do.

Get into the rooms you need to be in so your work can do what it needs to do.

I’ve wanted to go there ever since freshperson year,

Imposter syndrome is a natural consequence of growth.

I sigh, peering out of the window. We’re far out of central London now and I scan the streets, trying to get my bearings. We’re getting nearer to Julian’s resting place. I recognise an old police station, converted into cheap flats. This part of London feels darker than Mayfair. It’s as though the streetlights don’t shine as brightly. Cheaper models, not as many. I like it. Every time I come here, on a certain level, I relax. It almost feels more like home than Mayfair. Mayfair is who I want to be, Hayes is who I am. My veins are the dark streets, pulsing with traffic. There’s wreckage all around: craterous potholes, crumpled railings, abandoned cars, derelict homes. Nothing’s ever repaired. It’s all broken. The poverty’s inescapable. The air perpetually stinks.

Psychological Effects of Narcissistic Abuse on the Scapegoat Doubting your own worth. Believing that you are 'bad' or defective. Accepting negative feedback from family. An overwhelming desire for external validation. Constantly feeling anxious, overwhelmed, or confused because you don't know what your family expects of you or how to please them. Believing that you must make the narcissist happy in order to prove that you are lovable and not 'bad' or the problem. Difficulty forming and maintaining relationships. Choosing narcissistic friends or partners. Fear of abandonment and imposter syndrome if others discover how 'flawed' you really are.

If we keep attributing our successes to luck and our failures to ourselves, how are we going to be able to chase our dreams?

So let me ask you, how much are you willing to lose before you act? Sadly, I am not proud to say I was willing to lose a lot.

while we’re at it, please can Quaker Oats ban Ethan Frome from the curriculum altogether? It’s a snoozefest of repressed, milquetoast characters, all building up to the climax of—no joke—a toboggan ride. We should end on the Whartonian high of The Age of Innocence, which is probably the best novel set in New York City, ever. It’s about rich white people planning hits and takedowns at fancy balls like it’s The Godfather. Even though The Age of Innocence was written a hundred years ago, you just know that Edith Wharton knew what was up.

Fear invites imposter syndrome to the party to stop you from leveling up, and to make you doubt everything, in hopes of stopping you from being the badass you are destined to be.

But chronic boredom doesn’t come from not having anything to do: it comes from doing the wrong things.

I think what I really want is to treat life less like a war. Wouldn't we have less Imposter Syndrome and fewer actual imposters if we just lowered our standards a bit? Modern productivity dogma encourages us to act fast, and milk our exceptionalism for all it's worth. Under that kind of pressure, perhaps the truest rebellion is to embrace our ordinariness. In everyday life, if we could not only tolerate the discomfort, but wholeheartedly embrace our own lack of expertise, then we might have a far better chance of showing others the same grace. Then perhaps life might feel, at the very least, less agitating, at most, we might even find peace. How’s this? Let’s stoop below average at 50% of all we do. We’ll relish it, the commonness. Next time we have a question, let’s hold our for as long as we humanly can before googling the answer. It’ll be erotic, like edging before a climax. It’s quite nice, I am learning, just to wonder indefinitely. To never have certain answers. To sit down, be humble, and not even dare to knowThe hormonal rewards of constantly checking our phones fatigue the mind just as much as the stressors do. Studies of phone addiction have found the little hits of dopamine that keep users jonesing for notifications come with a tragic side effect. They actually inhibit the amount of dopamine we feel when exposed to real-life novelty. Said another way, phone addiction decreases our ability to enjoy new experiences in the physical world. When you’re hooked on novelty in electronic form, new foods and flowers lose their magic.

When you accept mistakes and failure as normal and see them as an opportunity to learn, grow and increase resilience, you will find it much easier to let them go.

To everyone who struggles with imposter syndrome— I dare you to believe in yourself. You. Are. Magic.

But I'm not a writer..." How many times have you thought that? How many times have you said it out loud? How many times have you read a beautifully worded book or a poem or an essay or a social media post and felt it take your breath away? Felt that yearning inside of you, that longing to do that or learn that or become that thing...the one that would let you find the words to share your story like that. If only you were brave enough. If only you were wise enough. If only you had all the right words. If only you were talented. If only you could speak the truth without being judged. If only you could write like her or him or them. If only you were a writer... Guess what. You are. You are a writer - and I promise you this. If you were not a writer you wouldn't be here. You are a writer because words dance in your brain and itch the tips of your fingers - begging you to pick up the pen or click the keyboard. Because a phrase on a page or the lyric of a song can steal your breath and remind you of all lines that live in your soul that long for release. Because you are pulled, again and again, and again to story. To the real and raw and the fantastically make-believe. You are a writer because of your willingness to stare into the void and face the demons and weave the beauty of the world around you into words. And even if those words don't ever make it to a page, they live inside of you. Because you couldn't stop, even if you wanted to. And you don't want to. Because the words are like your breath and the story - your story - that is the air. And the magic that happens when we come together to make stories - well, that's the universe. So the next time you're tempted to let that phrase or any other like it - slip into your brain or from your lips - shut that shit down. Immediately. You are a writer. Do you hear me? You said yes. You are here. You are showing up at the page and sitting in front of the screen. You are welcoming the muse. You are facing the fear. And you are writing. You are a writer. And that's the beginning and end of everything. Now, stop arguing with me, and go write already.

Capgras syndrome, aka Capgras delusion, is a rare neuropsychiatric disorder in which a person believes that a close family member, friend, or even themself has been replaced by an imposter, double, or replica. It is named after the French psychiatrist Joseph Capgras, who first brought the condition to light in 1923.

Let's grab a drink, hold hands, and have a little identity crisis together,

The imposter syndrome is at the core off every human being’s soul. We’re born with it. It’s why human beings are alive today. It’s an innate sense you're born with. It's why our ancestors avoided the saber-toothed tiger, because they doubted themselves. They were scared of certain things. That's why they worked hard to learn how to build fire, and taking it all through the generations, that impostor syndrome is always going to be there. Instead of being afraid and letting it get you down, be that 1% who embraces the impostor syndrome and realizes that it’s never going away. Because the impostor syndrome exists, it weeds out the 99% of people who cannot get over it and cannot get over their fear. It puts the people who do, into the top 1%, and anyone can join us here, when you just embrace the impostor syndrome.

People who feel like imposters tend to neglect their own needs.

Why should someone be punished for thinking and acting big?

When an organization is overly worried about small things, it usually can’t do big things.

Leadership means stepping out and taking risks.

Leaders should be leading, not hunting around in the weeds for land mines.

But you’re also dealing with imposter syndrome –the crippling moment you realise the collective knowledge of the group you’re talking to is far greater than your own. And I’ve already mentioned the copycats, the emotional ups and downs, the stress and the haters. After a while you start to feel like too little butter spread across too much bread.

Sometimes acceptance is a euphemism for surrender. And sometimes instead of soldiering on,

It's worth mentioning that if you do a shotty job at your last-minute frenzied effort, you might take it as evidence that you really are a fraud. But in the back of your mind you've also got a convenient, built in excuse for your poor performance. It doesn't feel good to do sub-standard work, but on some level you can tell yourself that it's because you left it to the last minute, and not because you gave it your best shot and failed. Which is terrifying - because it's your worst fear becoming reality.

I told myself that everything was fine, that my life was incredible and I wasn’t sad and I’d just send more emails and swig whiskey in order to fall asleep at two a.m. every night, empty bottles lining the foot of my bed. I wrung my body out like a towel, twisting both ends with red fists and sinking my teeth into it, gritting out, “It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine,” until one day, I woke up and there would be a new accolade on my shelf, a new accomplishment I could never have dreamed of, and then—finally—it would be fine. It’d be perfect. For that day. Or an hour. And then tendrils of the dread started peeking into the corners of my vision. And I had to start all over again.

Like many game creators, Velasco found himself dealing with a heavy dose of postproject depression and imposter syndrome. “I [thought], ‘Oh, who even cares, we just ripped off Mega Man,’” he said. “We fooled people into liking this. I’m not even really good at this.

I told myself that everything was fine, that my life was incredible and I wasn’t sad and I’d just send more emails and swig whiskey in order to fall asleep at two a.m. every night, empty bottles lining the foot of my bed. I wrung my body out like a towel, twisting both ends with red fists and sinking my teeth into it, gritting out, “It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine,” until one day, I woke up and there would be a new accolade on my shelf, a new accomplishment I could never have dreamed of, and then—finally—it would be fine. It’d be perfect. For that day. Or an hour. And then tendrils of the dread started peeking into the corners of my vision. And I had to start all over again.

I am emptied through shallow breaths. Muscles tighten in my chest. I think I am a fool dressed up in king’s chamber, holding a four-leaf clover.

My critic, like my parents, always found something flawed in me to contradict the feedback that I was getting. Ninety-nine percent on a test was never a cause for pride. Rather, it was the impetus for a great deal of self-criticism about the missing one percent. Like many other survivors that I have worked with, I developed the imposter’s syndrome. This syndrome contradicted the outside positive feedback that I was receiving. It insisted that if people really knew me, they would see what a loser I was. Eventually, however, I became confident in my intelligence even though my self-esteem was still abysmal.

We all have imposter syndrome sometimes, it's not unique to novelists. No one is immune from trying to prove something to themselves.

That’s easy for you to say; you’re a natural at this whole raising-kids thing.” “I just fake it well,” I say. “I have no idea what I’m doing. No parent does. We’re all full of imposter syndrome, winging it every minute of the day.

What a horrible thing to fail like that. I couldn't stand failure. Maybe they would all say I wasn't smart (clever) anyway.

Ruth still had that nagging twinge of imposter syndrome. Whatever she had achieved in her – not insubstantial – career, Ruth never seemed to build any internal surety of meaningful confidence. She knew she was a good police officer, she always did her job as best she could, but no matter her success rate, she still feared that one day she would be ‘found out’ as a fraud.

Maybe we all have imposter syndrome and perpetually feel like our real life is right around the corner, and if daily (often unearned) praise from strangers didn’t help me out with that, I guess we’ve all just got to put in the work.

I wanted the challenge of creating something from nothing and watching it flourish and grow.

Most people will say anything to justify their own actions, because most people would rather be safe than happy.

Imposter syndrome is a funny little liar, designed to keep you safe, but terrible at making you strong.

Even when it was clear that I wasn't the secretary or notetaker in academic seminars or meetings, my gender would get in the way. I would make a point and wait for a response, only to have some man repeat what I had said a few minutes later in a slightly different formulation. Every time it happened, imposter syndrome would kick in. I wondered, was it my impenetrable North East accent, did no one understand? Was it a stupid or irrelevant point? Was I simply not clear? Does everything a woman say have to be repeated by a man for it to be heard? On occasion I would find myself getting lectured on the very set of issues I worked on directly, sometimes even having to sit and listen as someone cited back something I had written in an article or policy paper, oblivious to where they had read it and whose idea it was. At every stage of my career, at Harvard, at the Brookings Institution, and in the U.S. government, something would happen to remind me of the fact that I was a woman, and not the same as the men around me.