For When You’re wondering if you belong
It’s been several years since it became a hot new word in our culture, but we live in a culture where we have a word, a verb, for doing difficult things, things we don’t want to do, making hard decisions, and taking care of business. This word is “adulting”. Any time we’re doing something we’d consider grown-up stuff, we’re adulting. It must be defined because the millennial generation never outgrew the habit of looking for the adult in the room, and we’re usually horrified to figure out that we ARE the adult in the room. We’re the decision-maker? Yikes, no thank you. If you’ve ever wondered to yourself, “how did I get here?”, the question lurking deeper in your psyche is actually, “when will they figure out I don’t belong?”
Imposter syndrome can make you feel like you don’t belong where you currently are, or you aren’t who you claim to be. In the context of leadership, imposter syndrome usually creeps in during very inconvenient moments of challenge.
A few quick examples of this might be:
- Leading in an industry you don’t have a lot of experience in
- After a major promotion
- The first time you have to make a final call
- Getting paid for something you used to do for free
- Leading former peers
- When policy or precedent will be influenced (or change) following a decision you make
- When your team looks to you in a crisis
- Delegating important work
As quickly as you can go from being a confident leader in the realm of decisions you’re comfortable with and know well, you can revert right back to feeling like a small child hoping someone else figures it out when you’re facing a new challenge. (You want me to decide what to do? Can’t you call Jerry or something?) Leaders, though, are usually the ones that have to go first. The ones who have to figure it out. The ones who have to reach out for a lifeline when things get sticky. We all assume that everyone in their role, particularly in roles above us, should have things mostly figured out; however, it takes time and lived experience to find comfort there. We must acknowledge the awkward reality that promotions are earned, titles are given, and responsibility increases, but confidence does not automatically follow.
Leadership can often multiply “imposter syndrome” for many reasons, chief among which is that visibility multiplies self-doubt. Have you ever felt self-conscious doing something you’ve done a million times when you unexpectedly have an audience? It’s the same principle here. When eyes are on you to perform, you can’t help but start to think of what will happen if you don’t. When every decision becomes public, every misstep feels amplified. Silence from a room feels like judgement. We have a belief that our leaders should be certain. We should know why we make the decisions we make and what the outcomes of those decisions will be. When we’re in situations of uncertainty, we look to others for affirmation that we’re on the right path. Without receiving it, we naturally second-guess ourselves because a lot of times the outcome is slightly beyond our grasp.
Another reason leadership can cause imposter syndrome is because proximity to power can feel like exposure. Before you move into leadership, it’s easy to assume your leaders must know something you don’t, must be operating off a larger strategy, and that there’s always a plan. Once you’re behind the curtain, it can be shocking to realize how much of what you assume is a machine propelling itself forward is actually human force turning the crank.
Think of the Wizard in The Wizard of Oz in 1939 (or even more recently, Wicked). Oz, the great and powerful, is an impressive and intimidating display of a masked genius; however, if you stick around long enough, you find out it’s really just Jeff Goldblum pulling some mechanical levers. You find that The Plan is made shortly before announcing it to teams, that some delivery trade-offs are unavoidable, and that even senior leadership weighs imperfect options. No one is in real, total control of the outcome, and instead of feeling powerful, you feel visible. You’re no longer protected by the illusion that someone “above” has it handled. When you’re the one handling it, it can feel like standing in front of the curtain instead of behind it. Authority removes the shield of obscurity. Your mistakes don’t blend into the background. When you’re in charge your tone is analyzed, your priorities are scrutinized, your silence carries weight, and your body language communicates. As you realize people are taking their cues from your reactions, it’s hard not to feel like you’re under the scope – sometimes in both directions, from your team and your own leaders.
A third reason is that success can trigger shame. Relationally, former peers now filter themselves around you, conversations quiet when you enter the room, jokes shift, and complaints are softened or withheld. We are wired for belonging and leadership singles us out. You are no longer “of” the group, you are responsible for the group. It can be a lonely difference. Shame can also carry around a hidden companion by the name of guilt. We can feel guilty for having authority, guilty for outpacing others, guilty for not being everything to everyone, and especially guilty for imperfection. Power clarifies impact, and impact comes with moral weight. If you’re a conscientious leader, the responsibility of impact means vulnerability. It can paralyze you to wrap yourself in constant questions of “what if I’m wrong” and “what if this harms someone?” Then it usually leads to, “who am I to decide?”
Lastly, the higher you go, the less feedback you get – especially if you’re doing well. Most people in upper leadership spend most of their energy putting out fires. If you’re not on fire, you’re usually just not a concern. Not a concern = successful. Why question someone who’s getting it right? The ultimate consequence of this, though, is that fewer people correct you openly, you have less reassurance, more ambiguity, and a silent environment for your imposter syndrome to thrive. Regardless of how one feels about critical feedback, everyone enjoys positive feedback. Positive feedback is affirming, but can also be just as structured and informative as neutral or negative feedback. When you go with no feedback, you remove all the guardrails. Not many feel safe on the roads.
So what can we do to relieve some of this pressure? Here are 5 practical mental shifts to consider when you’re feeling overwhelmed:
- Separate Humility from Self-Diminishment – Humility says “I don’t know everything” while self-diminishment says “I don’t belong here.” One invites growth, the other blocks it.
- Replace “Who Am I To…?” with “Who Am I Not To?” – If you’re entrusted with a leadership role, you’re called to steward judgement. Leadership withheld by guilt is an abandonment of stewardship.
- Normalize Learning in Public – You can say you need more information. You can acknowledge you made the wrong call. Competence includes correction – you can always say how you’re adjusting. All of the experiences you rack up while you learn lend confidence to later situations.
- Develop Internal Validation – Change the follow-up questions you ask yourself. Instead of wondering “do they approve of me?”, start asking questions like:
- Did I act with integrity?
- Did I make the best decision available with what I knew?
- Did I lead responsibly?
- Create Safe Feedback Loops – Enlist peers, mentors, and honest direct reports to gain feedback. You can ask someone who’s invested in the outcome, but also ask someone who isn’t.
Your team does not need a flawless leader, just someone who cares to make the effort to do well. Mistakes can be readily forgiven when a team trusts their leader; the same cannot be as easily said for carelessness. Leadership isn’t necessarily about deserving the seat, it’s about occupying it fully. Growth feels like fraud before it feels like mastery. Imposter syndrome isn’t proof you don’t belong – sometimes it’s just proof you’re taking your opportunity seriously!
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