My Thoughts
The Fraud Police Aren't Coming: Why Imposter Syndrome is Actually Your Brain Being a Worrywart
You know that voice in your head that whispers "they're going to find out you don't belong here" every time you walk into a boardroom? The one that insists your last promotion was a clerical error and your colleagues are just being polite when they ask for your opinion?
Meet your brain's overzealous security system: imposter syndrome.
After seventeen years of working with everyone from tradies who've built empires to CEOs who still Google "how to run a meeting," I can tell you something that might surprise you. That fraudulent feeling isn't a bug—it's a feature. A completely wonky, anxiety-inducing feature that needs some serious recalibrating, but a feature nonetheless.
The Real Culprit Behind Your Inner Critic
Here's what nobody tells you about imposter syndrome: it's not actually about competence. It's about pattern recognition gone haywire.
Your brain, bless its anxious little cotton socks, is constantly scanning for threats. Back when we were dodging sabre-toothed tigers, this was brilliant. Today? Not so much. When you step into unfamiliar territory—a new role, a challenging project, that workplace abuse training session where you're suddenly the expert—your brain freaks out.
"Danger!" it shouts. "Unknown situation! Must be fraud!"
The thing is, competent people are the ones most likely to experience imposter syndrome. I've watched absolute legends in their fields—people whose expertise could fill libraries—convince themselves they're about to be exposed as charlatans. Meanwhile, the genuinely underprepared often sail through with supreme confidence.
Why Your Successful Mates Aren't Telling You They Feel Like Frauds
Let me share something that happened at a leadership conference in Sydney last year. During the break, I overheard three senior managers—all incredibly successful, all absolutely drowning in imposter syndrome. They were practically competing over who felt more fraudulent.
But here's the kicker: not one of them would admit this in the actual session.
We've created this bizarre culture where vulnerability is praised in theory but punished in practice. Everyone's so busy projecting competence that we've forgotten something crucial: feeling like a fraud doesn't make you one.
In my experience, about 73% of professionals I've worked with report feeling like imposters at some point. The other 27%? Either they're lying, or they've mastered something the rest of us are still figuring out.
The Perfectionist's Trap (And Why It's Complete Rubbish)
Here's an unpopular opinion: perfectionism isn't a strength. It's imposter syndrome wearing a business suit.
I used to be one of those people who'd stay back until 9 PM polishing presentations that were already brilliant at 5 PM. Why? Because surely if I made it perfect enough, no one would question whether I belonged there.
Absolute nonsense.
The best leaders I know—and I'm talking about people running multi-million-dollar operations—are comfortable with "good enough." They understand that waiting for perfection is just fear wearing a productivity mask.
Take Richard Branson. The man's built an empire, and he's been refreshingly open about feeling out of his depth countless times. He doesn't let imposter syndrome stop him; he uses it as information. "Right," he essentially says, "I don't know what I'm doing. Better learn quickly."
That's the difference between successful people and everyone else. They feel the fraud feelings and crack on anyway.
The Comparison Game: How Social Media Made Everything Worse
Remember when we only compared ourselves to our immediate colleagues? Those were simpler times.
Now we're measuring our behind-the-scenes against everyone else's highlight reel. LinkedIn has become a parade of professional perfection, and frankly, it's doing our heads in.
You see someone posting about their amazing leadership skills development, and suddenly you're convinced you're the only person who still Googles "how to give feedback without crying."
Here's a reality check: that perfectly articulated post probably went through seventeen drafts. That "effortless" presentation took hours of rehearsal. That calm, collected leader you admire? They're probably in the bathroom giving themselves a pep talk before big meetings.
The Gender Factor Nobody Wants to Talk About
Let's address the elephant in the room. Women experience imposter syndrome differently than men, and it's not just because we're "more emotional" or whatever other outdated nonsense gets thrown around.
It's because we've been socialised to question our competence from day one. We're taught to be modest about our achievements while simultaneously being criticised for not being confident enough. It's a no-win situation that would give anyone whiplash.
I've watched brilliant women attribute their success to luck, timing, or help from others, while their male counterparts take full credit for significantly lesser achievements. Both approaches are wrong, by the way, but one gets rewarded more than the other.
The solution isn't for women to become more like men or vice versa. It's for all of us to recognise that feeling uncertain doesn't disqualify us from success.
What Actually Works (Spoiler: It's Not Positive Affirmations)
Right, let's get practical. After years of trial and error—mostly error, if I'm being honest—here's what actually moves the needle on imposter syndrome.
First, stop trying to feel confident. Confidence is overrated anyway. I'd rather work with someone who's competent and uncertain than someone who's incompetent and sure of themselves.
Second, collect evidence. Start keeping a "proof folder"—emails praising your work, problems you've solved, goals you've hit. When your brain starts its "you're a fraud" routine, show it the receipts.
Third, reframe the narrative. Instead of "I don't know what I'm doing," try "I'm learning something new." Instead of "they're going to find out I'm a fraud," try "I'm growing into this role."
This isn't touchy-feely positive thinking rubbish. It's cognitive behavioural therapy wrapped in practical clothing.
The Unexpected Benefits of Feeling Like a Fraud
Here's another unpopular opinion: a little bit of imposter syndrome is actually useful.
People who occasionally question their competence tend to be more conscientious, work harder, and seek out learning opportunities. They're less likely to become complacent or arrogant. They ask better questions because they're not afraid to look stupid.
The problem isn't having imposter syndrome; it's letting it paralyse you.
I once worked with a CFO who confessed she felt like a fraud every day for her first two years in the role. But instead of hiding from that feeling, she used it as motivation to become genuinely excellent at her job. By year three, she wasn't pretending to belong—she absolutely did belong.
The Antidote to Fraudulent Feelings
The cure for imposter syndrome isn't feeling confident all the time. It's developing what I call "comfortable incompetence"—the ability to not know something without it meaning you're fundamentally flawed.
When I started consulting, I thought I needed to have all the answers. I'd spend hours researching obscure scenarios just in case someone asked. Exhausting and pointless.
Now? If I don't know something, I say so. "Great question. Let me look into that and get back to you." Revolutionary stuff, right?
The fraud police aren't coming because there are no fraud police. There's just you, doing your best with the information you have, growing and learning as you go.
Most days, that's exactly enough.
The Bottom Line on Belonging
Here's what I wish someone had told me fifteen years ago: you don't have to feel like you belong to actually belong. You don't have to be the smartest person in the room to deserve your seat at the table. You don't have to have it all figured out to be valuable.
Imposter syndrome is your brain trying to protect you from embarrassment. But here's the thing about embarrassment—it's temporary and rarely as catastrophic as we imagine.
The people who succeed aren't the ones who never feel like frauds. They're the ones who feel like frauds and show up anyway.
So the next time that familiar voice starts whispering about your fraudulent status, thank it for trying to keep you safe. Then tell it to pipe down while you get on with the important work of being imperfectly, authentically, brilliantly human.
Because that's all any of us are doing, really. We're all just making it up as we go along—some of us are just better at pretending otherwise.
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