The Imposter Syndrome - I Am Brilliant, and Sometimes I Still Feel Like a Fraud

 

I am brilliant.  

This is not a lie, i tell myself. It is a truth i know about myself. 

I however struggle sometimes when it comes to public speaking. 

I have worked hard to become the woman I am today. I have earned my degrees, spent years building expertise, managed complex projects, advised institutions, written policy papers, and sat across the table from people whose names appear in newspapers. None of it happened by accident.

Yet, every now and then, another voice creeps in.

You're not as good as they think you are.

You just got lucky.

Soon they'll realise you have no idea what you're doing.

That voice has a name. It is called imposter syndrome.

Ironically, it shows up most when I am invited into rooms I have spent years preparing to enter.

I struggle sometimes when it comes to public speaking.

People who know me are usually surprised when I admit this. They see someone who moderates conversations, leads meetings, and gives interviews. What they don't see is the conversation happening in my head just moments before I pick up the microphone.

What if I forget my points?

What if someone asks a question I can't answer?

What if they discover I'm not as knowledgeable as they think?

The funny thing is that I almost always do well; not almost. Always do well.

People compliment the presentation. They quote something I said. They ask thoughtful follow-up questions. Sometimes they tell me I made a complex issue easy to understand.

And instead of accepting the compliment, my mind starts negotiating with it.

They were just being polite.

Anyone could have done that.

Next time, you'll mess it up.

That's the exhausting part of imposter syndrome. It doesn't care about evidence. It rewrites every success as coincidence and every mistake as proof that it was right all along.

For a long time, I thought confidence meant never doubting yourself.

I have since learned that confidence is showing up despite the doubt.

It is accepting the invitation even when your stomach is in knots.

It is saying yes to the panel discussion, submitting the article, applying for the role, raising your hand to ask a question, or speaking into the microphone while your inner critic is still whispering that you shouldn't.

One lesson motherhood has reinforced is that growth is rarely comfortable.

Watching my children learn to crawl, walk, or speak reminds me that no one begins as an expert. Every skill we admire in someone else was once awkward, uncertain, and filled with mistakes.

Why, then, do we expect ourselves to be perfect?

Perhaps because we compare our behind-the-scenes with everyone else's highlight reel.

Social media has made this worse. We see polished presentations but not the rehearsals. Promotions but not the rejections. Awards but not the years of invisible work. We assume everyone else is certain while we alone are pretending.

The truth is that many of the most accomplished people quietly wrestle with the same feelings.

What has helped me is learning to separate feelings from facts.

The feeling says, You don't belong here.

The facts say, You were invited for a reason.

The feeling says, You are not good enough.

The facts remind me of years of learning, growing, failing, trying again, and becoming better.

The feeling says, You'll be exposed.

The facts say, You have done difficult things before, and you can do them again.

I still get nervous before speaking engagements.

I still rehearse more than I probably need to.

I still have moments where I question whether I have anything valuable to say.

While i still have those doubts, I am getting better at not allowing those thoughts to make my decisions.

I have realised that courage is not the absence of self-doubt. It is refusing to let self-doubt have the final word.

So yes, I am brilliant.

Not because I know everything.

Not because I never get nervous.

Not because I never make mistakes.

I am brilliant because I have committed myself to learning, to growing, and to showing up even when fear tells me not to.

If you've been waiting until you feel completely confident before taking that next step, you may be waiting forever.

Apply for the role.

Start the business.

Write the book.

Speak at the conference.

Raise your hand.

Your inner critic may come along for the journey. Mine still does.

Just don't give it the driver's seat.