There she was—one of the best house officers I had ever worked with. Sharp as a scalpel, compassionate as a grandmother’s soup, and efficient enough to make the ward run like a Swiss train schedule. Yet inside her mind, there lived a weed. Not the kind you smoke, but the kind that whispers: “You don’t belong here. You’re a fraud.”
That weed has a name: Imposter Syndrome. It is the persistent, unjustified feeling that your success is fraudulent, that you’ve somehow tricked the world into believing you’re competent. Degrees, awards, glowing feedback—all dismissed as accidents, luck, or clerical errors.
At The Roots
Imposter syndrome doesn’t sprout out of nowhere. Its roots dig into:
– Perfectionism: believing anything less than flawless is failure.
– Family dynamics: growing up with pressure to excel or constant comparisons.
– Cultural scripts: “Don’t brag, stay humble,” which sometimes mutates into “Never believe you’re good enough.”
– Workplace pressures: environments where mistakes feel fatal and praise is rare.
The Consequences
Left unchecked, this weed spreads. It strangles joy, fuels anxiety, and makes brilliant people second‑guess themselves into exhaustion. It can lead to burnout, procrastination, or the tragicomic dance of over‑preparing for everything—like rehearsing how to say “good morning” in case you get it wrong.
The Tragicomedy
Here’s the comic part: the very people who feel like imposters are usually the ones who are most competent. The fraud never worries about being a fraud. Only the genuine article does. It’s like the hospital chair that squeaks so loudly you think it’s about to collapse—but it’s been holding up consultants for decades. The squeak is not proof of weakness; it’s proof of use.
How to Deal With It
You don’t kill the weed by pretending it isn’t there. You deal with it by:
– Naming it: “Ah, that’s imposter syndrome talking, not reality.”
– Collecting evidence: keep a record of achievements, feedback, and moments of competence.
– Sharing the joke: talk about it with peers—humour shrinks shame.
– Reframing failure: mistakes aren’t proof of fraudulence; they’re proof you’re human.
– Self‑compassion: treat yourself with the kindness you’d offer a struggling colleague.
Deep Thoughts
You have overextended yourself and felt invisible out of not feeling enough, haven’t you? Relax. The real fraud isn’t the person who doubts themselves—it’s the voice that insists doubt equals failure. And once you see that, you realise: you are not the weed. You are the gardener. Dare to impact your world positively.
