The Impostor Syndrome's Gift
What if feeling like a fraud isn't a syndrome, but a signal?
"You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist."
— Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, Aphorism 186.
Have you ever experienced that moment in a meeting when you’re sitting there, nodding along, and suddenly you feel a creeping sensation? It’s that feeling that everyone else in the room belongs there while you’re somehow pretending to be part of it all.
We’ve all heard the typical advice: “It’s just impostor syndrome! Everyone experiences it! You are actually brilliant, qualified, and completely deserve to be here!”
But what if we've got this thing backward?
Here's what I've been thinking, rolling around in my head during those late-night moments of brutal honesty: What if that nagging feeling isn't a glitch in our psychological software? What if it's a feature?
We're taught to fight against impostor syndrome like it's some inner demon we need to vanquish. We read articles about how even Michelle Obama and Einstein felt like frauds. We tell ourselves it's just our insecurities talking, that we need to push past it, fake it till we make it.
But I've noticed something. This "impostor" feeling doesn't show up in all parts of my life. It's selective, specific, almost like it's trying to tell us something.
And that's when it hit me: What if impostor syndrome isn't lying to us? What if it's the only voice in the room brave enough to tell us the truth?
This "impostor" thing doesn't show up when I'm conversing with a friend, helping them untangle some life mess. It doesn't creep in when I'm lost in creating something I believe in. It's not there when I'm fighting for a cause that makes my heart beat faster.
No, it shows up in those other moments. You know, when you're nodding in agreement with something you don't quite believe in. When you're crafting that email, that sounds nothing like how you talk. When you're playing a role you think you're supposed to play, wearing a mask you think you're supposed to wear.
I'm starting to think this "impostor" sensation is our internal BS detector going off, like a check engine light for our soul. It's not telling us we're not good enough or that we're not being accurate enough.
When I'm being utterly myself – even if I'm doing something I'm not exceptionally skilled at – that feeling... evaporates. It's not about competence at all. It's about authenticity.
What if that feeling of being an impostor isn't a mental health issue? What if it's an accurate internal navigation system?
You've probably got that friend – maybe you are that friend – who can spot fakeness from a mile away. You know, the one who can tell when someone's laugh is forced or just saying what people want to hear. Well, what if that "impostor syndrome" is that friend living inside your head, but instead of calling out other people's fakeness, it's calling out yours?
When I started paying attention, I realized this feeling didn't manifest when I struggled with something difficult. Instead, it manifested when I worked with something inauthentic.
When I'm stumbling through learning something new that matters to me? Sure, I feel uncertain, maybe even a little scared, but not like an impostor. But when I'm smoothly executing something that feels empty or misaligned with who I am? That's when the fraud police sirens start wailing in my head.
The more "successful" I became at things that weren't aligned with my values, the louder that impostor feeling got. It's like the further we drift from our truth, the more our inner compass starts freaking out, trying to get our attention.
It's beautiful when you think about it. All this time, we've been treating this feeling like it's trying to tear us down when maybe it's trying to guide us home. It's not saying, "You're not good enough." It's saying, "This isn't you enough."
Do you want to hear something strange? The times when I've felt most authentic, solid, and not-an-impostor weren't necessarily when I was the most "qualified" or "successful" in the traditional sense.
There was this moment – I was explaining something I cared about to a room full of people with more impressive credentials than me. My hands were moving everywhere (you know how that goes when you're into something). I was probably breaking every presentation's best practice in the book. But here's the wild part: that sneaky impostor feeling? Gone. Not even a whisper.
It's not just the big moments. It's also in those quiet times, like when you're working on something at 2 a.m. and are so aligned with your work that you forget to check if you're "qualified" enough to do it.
Let me put it this way: Have you ever watched a kid absorbed in building something with Legos? They're not sitting there wondering if they have enough Lego-building credentials. They're just... building. That's what it feels like when we're in that sweet alignment spot. We're too busy to worry about seeming.
This alignment doesn't always look impressive from the outside. Sometimes, it's in those messy, imperfect moments when we're stumbling through something new but meaningful. I've felt more genuine asking a "stupid" question about something I care about than giving a polished answer about something I don't.
Even our mistakes feel different when we're genuinely aligned. They stop feeling like evidence of our fraudulence and start feeling like natural steps in growing.
I'm not saying you should quit your jobs tomorrow because we sometimes feel like impostors. Real life isn't simple; bills don't pay themselves with authenticity points.
It's about recognizing different types of discomfort. For example, growth is the pain you feel when you learn something new that matters to you. It's like the good kind of sore after a workout. But then there's that other kind of discomfort that feels like you're slowly erasing yourself. That's the one we need to pay attention to.
Sometimes, we must play specific roles to get where we need to go. That's just life. The trick is knowing the difference between wearing a costume and losing yourself.
Some parts of what I do don't exactly set my soul on fire, and spreadsheets aren't my love language. But here's the difference—when I'm doing those tasks in service of something I care about, that impostor feeling stays pretty quiet. My internal compass gets it: "Ok, this isn't your favorite thing, but it's taking you somewhere."
And that's the key—it's not about never doing anything that feels uncomfortable or inauthentic. It's about being conscious of why we're doing it. Are we doing it as a stepping stone to something that matters to us? Or are we doing it because we think we're supposed to want it?
Sometimes, the most authentic thing we can do is acknowledge that we're choosing to be inauthentic for now, for a specific purpose. Weird, right? But there's something honest about that.
Maybe we could start using it like a compass instead of trying to silence that impostor feeling, not as a stop sign but as one of those "you are here" markers on a mall directory. (You know, those maps where you stand for too long trying to figure out how to get to the donut place? Just me?)
When that feeling shows up, instead of immediately launching into a self-doubt spiral, try this: Pause. Take a breath. Ask yourself: "What's this feeling trying to tell me right now?" Sometimes it's saying, "Hey, you're playing a part that doesn't fit." Other times, it's more like, "Remember that big dream you had? Yeah, you're drifting pretty far from that."
Everything shifts once you start using this feeling as a guide instead of fighting it. It becomes less about "Do I deserve to be here?" and more about "Is here where I actually want to be?"
And sometimes – this is the part that amazes me – following that internal lie detector might lead you to do the opposite of what impostor syndrome articles tell you. Maybe instead of pushing through the feeling, you might need to pivot. Instead of "fake it till you make it," perhaps it's "face it, then reroute it."
And here's the liberating part: When you start seeing impostor syndrome this way, it stops being something you need to overcome and becomes a helpful alert system, like your phone warning you when you're about to walk into traffic while texting—annoying in the moment but pretty useful.
So next time that impostor feeling shows up try thanking it instead of beating yourself up. "Hey, thanks for the heads up. Let me see what you're trying to tell me here." Because maybe, just maybe, it's not trying to tear you down – it's trying to steer you home.
For further exploration…
"The Gifts of Imperfection" by Brené Brown reads like a revelation for anyone wrestling with authenticity. If you've been intrigued by our discussion of impostor syndrome as an internal compass rather than a curse, this book will feel like the perfect next step. Brown doesn't just validate our struggles with feeling "not enough" – she completely reframes them. Through her research on shame, courage, and what she calls "wholehearted living," she reveals how our moments of profound discomfort often point directly to our truths.