Living With My Old Friend, Imposter Syndrome

Not long ago, I was named Supporter of the Year by the 3Pillars Project. Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s a huge honour and I’m genuinely humbled… but my first thought wasn’t “finally, some recognition!” it was “they must have run out of candidates.”

That’s imposter syndrome for you. My constant, nagging travel companion.

The Young Leader Who Didn’t Quite Believe

I’ve had it for as long as I can remember. When I was a young leader, I tied myself in knots trying to work out what “good leadership” should look like.

Should I be the polished, unflappable soldier who always had the right answer? The charismatic motivator? The stern disciplinarian? The problem was, none of those templates felt like me. I’d catch myself thinking: if they ever find out I’m making this up as I go, it’s all over. Total Blag!

So, my coping strategy? Commit fully, even if I wasn’t entirely sure. Confidence by brute force. Be bold. If I was wrong, at least I’d gone down swinging. And more often than not, I discovered that people didn’t want a “perfect” leader they wanted one who was willing to make decisions, own the outcomes, and crack on.

I used to remind myself: what’s the worst that could happen? (A useful mantra unless you’re flying a helicopter, in which case, again, please ignore this advice).

The Military Teacher

What the military really gave me apart from a firm dislike of early mornings in gymnasiums was a toolkit that I didn’t even realise I was building at the time.

It taught me to learn fast, because you rarely get the luxury of time. It taught me resilience, because things will go wrong and sulking isn’t a viable strategy. And it taught me humility because nothing cures arrogance quicker than a sergeant reminding you you’ve put your boots on the wrong feet. These lessons stuck. And they would prove very handy when I hung up the uniform.

Entering the Civilian World

Post-military, I landed in an industry I barely understood. Suddenly, I was the new kid again, trying to decode technical conversations, acronyms I’d never heard of, and meetings where everyone seemed smarter than me. That inner voice piped up: you don’t belong here.

So I leaned back on those old military habits. Treat it like a ladder one step at a time. Don’t try to know everything at once; just learn the next thing. And above all, hold your own in conversations, even if you’re still piecing the puzzle together.

I discovered that listening intently, asking the “stupid” questions, and being willing to learn openly wasn’t weakness it was actually disarming. People responded well. They respected humility far more than bluffing expertise. (Though a well-timed nod and a serious face in a meeting still buys you precious thinking seconds some habits die hard). Hold a clipboard and you have really made it.

Why Imposter Syndrome Isn’t the Enemy

Over time, I’ve realised something: imposter syndrome isn’t a problem to solve. It’s a companion to carry. It reminds you that you don’t know it all. It keeps you humble. And it usually shows up when you’re pushing yourself into uncomfortable, growth-filled spaces.

The trick is not to silence that inner voice but to stop letting it drive the car. Acknowledge it, laugh at it, and then carry on anyway.

A Final Thought

In a world where AI might out-think, out-calculate, and out-analyse us one day, at least it will never have the joy of over-thinking whether it deserves an award. That’s our human superpower, doubt, vulnerability, and the courage to act anyway.

So next time imposter syndrome taps you on the shoulder, don’t push it away. Invite it in, have a laugh at yourself, and remember: if you feel like a fraud, you’re probably doing something worthwhile.