My Dreaded Imposter Syndrome

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I didn’t plan to write about imposter syndrome today—but it’s top of mind for me, and it’s a big part of why I haven’t produced much content this week.

(My other excuse is an extended hangover from the weekend: It’s the price you pay for having fun friends.)

“Imposter syndrome,” loosely defined as a lack of confidence in one’s own abilities that’s not based in objective reality, is a term I didn’t learn until 2019, even though it came out of a 1978 study on family dynamics. I admit that until now I didn’t realize the term was rooted in childrearing patterns—I assumed it was a corporate buzzword designed to maintain the hegemony of individualism (which is academic-speak for “blame people for their own failures so that the sacred capitalist system remains beyond reproach.”)

Let me explain my reasoning: In the United States—the Mecca of Individualism—the responsibility is almost always placed at the feet of the individual for his successes and failures. The concept of imposter syndrome fits perfectly within this paradigm. If I apply for 700 jobs and don’t get a single interview, lose all confidence as a result, and drink myself to death while binging Breaking Bad (yes, I am speaking from experience), the blame isn’t placed on the ATS or the hiring people but on me for not believing in myself, for lacking resilience, for being a quitter, for having too many vices, and so on. Imposter syndrome is a convenient scapegoat for failure that keeps the status quo intact—even though imposter syndrome could just as easily be considered a consequence of failure.

This doesn’t mean I don’t believe it’s real: Imposter syndrome is very real. I’m dealing with it right now. I’m struggling to write this goddam sentence because there’s an asshole in my head saying things like: Why don’t you have a fucking job? Only a fool would try to write for a living. Get off your ass and shave that nasty beard so you look presentable. Oh, and you should work out more because you’re too weak to be considered a man. And so on. (The asshole often jumps between topics.)

However, I don’t think imposter syndrome exists in a vacuum, and I also doubt that it’s entirely rooted in childhood dynamics that pit a “social” younger sibling against an “intelligent” older sibling, for example. I think environment is the most important factor. Speaking for myself, I grew up in a safe, supportive, noncompetitive household in the ‘burbs with no siblings—but now I find myself in a perilous late-stage-capitalist hellscape, ruled by technofascists, malignant narcissists, and soulless gatekeepers, where only the fittest survive. Not only that, in a world of haves and have-nots, I fit in with the latter far more than the former—even though I was an overachiever until I hit the job market. My best days in 2025 would qualify as my worst in 1995.

How the fuck is anyone supposed to adjust to 2025 when their worst memory from childhood is a skinned knee and a dropped ice cream cone on an otherwise serene and blissful summer day? I ask my wife this all the time. Unlike me, she never had the luxury of a (false) sense of security.

Environment matters. Context matters. It’s not all on the individual. I doubt any human is capable of extinguishing self-doubt. We would all be supremely confident if we consistently received B when we executed on A. (A simple experiment would prove this.) Success of any kind breeds confidence. Maybe I should just find a predictable service job, where I can claim success as long as the customer gives me a smile or a tip. Easy-peasy. Instead, I’ve chosen to spend my time ranting by keyboard and screaming into a mic for the better part of a year—and I have precious little to show for it. The only reward I get for putting myself out there is knowing that someone somewhere can somehow relate.

So, yeah, I suffer from imposter syndrome. I admit I have no idea if I’m good at this shit—or anything else. I lack faith. I lack courage. I’m indecisive. And what’s worse is that I feel like I’m one of the only goddam people (men, especially) in America who are willing to talk about this openly.

Will you join me?