The Lies Imposter Syndrome Tells Us
Lope, prod is broken.
Lope, the feature you said works isn’t working.
Lope, what is currying? (Answers wrongly.) Damn, I thought you were a good dev.
Lope, do you mind looking at this issue? Spends 10 hours debugging and still doesn’t have the right answer.
Lope, we have an assignment on communication. Wait, how are we this far into the semester already?
It’s always something. A question I can’t answer, a problem I can’t solve, a reminder that somehow, I should be better than I am. The weight of expectation — whether from others or from myself — sits heavy on my shoulders. In a room full of people, I become smaller, quieter, as if my words hold no value.
I see others speak with ease, sharing their insights, laughing at their mistakes, moving forward effortlessly. Meanwhile, I hesitate. What if what I say is wrong? What if my idea is met with silence? What if they realize I don’t belong here? I built a website, but I can’t seem to share it. The thought of someone looking at it and thinking, That’s all you can do? stops me in my tracks.
The feeling follows me everywhere. Maybe it’s my work. Maybe it’s my studies. Maybe it’s the way I second-guess everything — from the clothes I wear to the thoughts I have. I don’t belong here. The words creep in so easily, wrapping themselves around my confidence until there’s almost nothing left.
My friends talk about their latest projects, the skills they’ve picked up, the things they’ve built. I listen, nodding along, but deep down, I feel disconnected. Like I’m on a different track, moving slower, barely keeping up. The only thing I seem sure of anymore is 2+2=4 (Is that even right?).
And then there’s studying computer engineering. Every single day, I sit in class and wonder: Am I meant to be here? I watch as my classmates absorb concepts effortlessly, discussing them as if they’re second nature. Meanwhile, I struggle just to understand the definition of the topic, let alone apply it. Then work comes in, throwing more problems at me, each one feeling like a test I’m destined to fail. I hesitate to ask for help because what if asking only proves what I fear most?
That I don’t belong.
That I’m an imposter.
That one day, someone will point at me and say, You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?
It’s exhausting — this constant fight between what I know and what I feel. Some days, I push through it, pretending it doesn’t exist. Other days, it drowns me. The worst part? No one sees it. From the outside, I probably look like just another developer, just another student, figuring things out like everyone else.
But inside, I’m constantly questioning. Constantly doubting. Constantly afraid that one day, I’ll be exposed.
And even when I do something cool — add a new feature, solve a bug, build something from scratch — when I get commended, I still question it. Are they just being nice? Are they messing with me? Someone says, Wow, your dress is cool! or You wrote this code? Damn, you’re good! But in my mind, I’ve already decided it isn’t. My first instinct isn’t to accept the praise — it’s to reject it. To brace myself. To assume they’re not being honest, that it’s just politeness, that any moment, they’ll realize I’m not as good as they think.
Imposter syndrome is real, and it’s heavy.
One funny thing I came to realize is that I wasn’t alone in feeling this way. It wasn’t just me — it was everyone. And somehow, that made me feel better. Not in a serves them right kind of way, but in a maybe this isn’t just a me problem kind of way. It was a shift in awareness — an understanding that these doubts, these fears of being “found out,” weren’t exclusive to me. They were universal, woven into the minds of people I had assumed were confident, capable, untouchable.
The same people I looked up to, the ones who spoke with certainty, who seemed to know exactly what they were doing — they felt it too. It wasn’t that they had never questioned themselves; they had just learned to move forward despite it. That realization didn’t erase my imposter syndrome, but it did something just as powerful: it made me feel less alone.
Realizing that I wasn’t alone in feeling like an imposter helped, but it didn’t magically make the feeling go away. The self-doubt still creeps in, the hesitation still lingers. But instead of letting it consume me, I’ve started to actively work through it.
One of my biggest goals this year is to practice self-appreciation and gratitude daily — not just for the big wins, but for the small ones, too. The things I overlook, the things I dismiss as “not a big deal,” are still progress. I’m learning to pause and acknowledge them, to give myself credit instead of constantly moving the goalpost further.
I’ve also started to seek feedback intentionally, not as a way to confirm my worst fears, but to truly understand where I can improve. I used to assume that asking for feedback would expose my flaws, but what I’ve found is that it actually gives me perspective. Take my recent review call with my boss, the CTO. He told me I was doing great (oh damn, really?), that I just needed to pay more attention to testing what I said works. And he wasn’t the only one. A friend I look up to gave me an honest review and said the same thing — I have a tendency to miss small details. Something as simple as fixing navigation to the next page on an MVP — overlooked. Not because I didn’t care, but because I wasn’t paying close enough attention.
Hearing that from people I respect made me realize something: Imposter syndrome makes me hyper-aware of the big things I think I’m failing at, but completely blind to the small things I can fix. I get so caught up in whether I’m “good enough” that I don’t even see where I can actually improve.
So now, I document everything. Work processes, learnings, even mistakes. Not as proof that I don’t belong, but as evidence that I’m growing. The more I see my progress written down, the harder it is to convince myself that I’m not learning.
I’m also working on avoiding distractions, staying humble, and just keeping at it. Imposter syndrome feeds on comparison, and it thrives in the spaces where I let my mind wander into “Look at them, they have it all figured out.” Instead of spiraling, I remind myself: I’m on my own journey. No one has it all figured out.
More than anything, I want to grow emotionally, spiritually, and professionally — not just in skills, but in mindset. I won’t always feel confident. I won’t always feel like I belong. But the difference now is that I recognize imposter syndrome for what it is: a liar that sounds a little too much like my own voice.
And I’m learning to talk back.
I started following Danny Thompson in 2022. Back then, he was one of the few devs I knew, introduced to me by a friend. I remember casually scrolling through his content when I came across something that completely threw me off — he admitted that he also experiences imposter syndrome. Wait, what? (in tromboner’s voice😅).
Danny, who had built an incredible career, who had inspired so many, who seemed so sure of himself, felt the same way I did? That was the moment I realized — imposter syndrome isn’t just something that affects beginners. It doesn’t magically disappear when you hit a certain level of experience. It lingers, creeping in at every stage, whispering that you don’t belong.
In one of his videos, he said something that stuck with me:
“If you’re feeling imposter syndrome, it might mean you’re onto something great, a big change, maybe.”
But sometimes, it might not be — your imposter syndrome could be pointing at real issues that need work.
That hit hard. Because up until that point, I had only ever seen imposter syndrome as an enemy. Something to overcome. But what if, instead, it was a signal? A push to reflect — not just on my fears, but on the gaps I need to fill?
That perspective shifted my approach. Now, when I feel imposter syndrome creeping in, I try to ask myself: Is this fear talking, or is there something I actually need to improve? Instead of letting it paralyze me, I let it guide me toward what I can work on. If it’s just self-doubt, I remind myself of my progress. If it’s a real issue, I take it as a challenge — one I can grow from.
Because at the end of the day, feeling like an imposter doesn’t mean I don’t belong. It just means I’m still growing.
And so, I’ve started shifting my perspective. Instead of fighting imposter syndrome like an enemy, I’ve been trying to listen to it. Sometimes, it’s just fear talking — fear of being seen, of not being enough, of being found out. Other times, it’s a quiet nudge, pointing out gaps I need to work on.
I’ve also made a conscious effort to practice self-appreciation, to acknowledge the things I get right instead of obsessing over what I miss. It’s not easy. When people commend me, my first instinct is still to doubt their sincerity. Are they just being nice? But I’m learning to take feedback, both positive and constructive, at face value. If my boss and a friend I admire both tell me I need to pay more attention to details, then maybe that’s just something to work on — not proof that I’m a fraud.
Imposter syndrome hasn’t disappeared. Maybe it never will. But now, when it shows up, I try to see it for what it is — a sign that I’m stepping into new territory, pushing past my comfort zone. And maybe, just maybe, that’s not a bad thing.
And to everyone facing it — you’re not alone (Michael Jackson’s voice).
This feeling? It’s not just you. It’s not just me. It’s something even the most accomplished people deal with. The difference is in how we respond to it. Do we let it hold us back, or do we take a step forward anyway?
The choice is ours. And every day we show up, no matter the doubt, that’s progress.
