Imposter syndrome: why you feel like a fraud (and you're not)

You've just been promoted to team lead. The next day you walk into your first meeting with the people who were your colleagues until yesterday, and your stomach tightens. They're looking at you, waiting for you to say something smart, and all you can think is: "Sooner or later they'll realize they picked the wrong person." When your boss congratulates you, you shrug it off: "I got lucky, the project was easy." That isn't modesty. It's imposter syndrome, and it hits the people who are actually doing well.

What imposter syndrome really is

Sandi Mann is a British psychologist, and in her book Why Do I Feel Like an Imposter? she describes meeting this phenomenon again and again in successful clients. Bright people, with real qualifications and real results, convinced they're just good actors.

The term was coined in 1978 by two psychologists, Pauline Clance and Suzanne Imes. Studying a group of high-achieving women, they noticed that despite degrees, awards and praise, none of them felt they truly measured up. They identified three defining features. First: believing other people overestimate your abilities. Second: fearing you'll be found out and exposed as a fake. Third: putting your successes down to external factors, like luck or an extraordinary amount of hard work, rather than your own abilities.

We now know it affects men and women equally and that, according to the research Mann cites, around 70 percent of people experience it at some point in their lives. It isn't a mental illness. The psychologists who first described it later preferred to call it the "imposter experience," precisely because it's so common.

It often shows up at moments of transition: your first job after qualifying, a new course of study, a promotion. Mann tells the story of James, who worked in IT and loved his job. Then he was promoted to manager. Clients and staff started complaining, as they do with anyone in charge, and he became convinced he didn't deserve the role.

You're in very good company

If you think you're the only one who feels this way, look at who has admitted it. The writer Maya Angelou said: "I have written eleven books, but each time I think, 'Uh oh, they're going to find out now.'" Tom Hanks, after two Oscars, wondered in an interview when they'd discover he was a fraud. Kate Winslet has said she sometimes wakes up before a shoot thinking, "I can't do this. I'm a fraud." Sheryl Sandberg, then Facebook's chief operating officer, said there were still days she woke up feeling like a fraud, unsure she should be where she was.

If even an Oscar can't convince someone they're good enough, the problem clearly isn't the results.

Why success never feels like enough

Mann explains the mechanism with a concept from psychology: cognitive dissonance. When you achieve something significant, two ideas sit side by side in your head and clash: "I'm not good enough" and "I just did something really good." It's an uncomfortable feeling, and to get rid of it you have to change one of the two.

Changing a belief about yourself that took years to build is very hard. It's much easier to downplay the result: "It was luck." "Anyone could have done it." "They didn't assess me properly." The same thing happens with compliments: "They're just being nice." So every success, instead of building you up, leaves the original belief untouched.

And it often sets off a vicious cycle. Afraid of being found out, you work twice as hard, polish endlessly, never consider a project finished. The result comes, but you credit the extra hours, not your ability. And next time, you work even harder.

The five faces of the imposter

Mann draws on the work of Valerie Young, who identified five types of imposter. The Perfectionist, for whom anything less than perfect is failure. The Superwoman or Superman, who measures their worth by how much they can juggle at once. The Natural Genius, convinced that if something takes effort, they're just not cut out for it. The Rugged Individualist, for whom success achieved with help doesn't count. And the Expert, who never feels knowledgeable enough.

The book includes Vicki, an estate agent who, three years into the business, starts being invited into the media as an expert. Instead of enjoying it, she feels like a fraud and spends her evenings reading everything she can find online, convinced she'll never know enough.

The Natural Genius deserves an extra note, because it believes real talent shouldn't take effort. That's exactly the mistake Angela Duckworth takes apart when she explains why, between talent and effort, effort counts for more.

The three-column exercise

Mann suggests a simple exercise you can do tonight with a sheet of paper.

1. Column one: the facts. List the results nobody can dispute. The promotion. The client you landed. The presentation people praised. The project you delivered.
2. Column two: your imposter thoughts. Next to each fact, write what you usually tell yourself. "I got lucky." "There weren't any better candidates." "It wasn't perfect."
3. Column three: your abilities. Now write down which of your qualities made that fact possible. "I can explain complex things clearly." "I'm reliable with deadlines."
4. Score them. For each fact, give a percentage to how believable the column-two explanation is, and the same for column three. See which one really holds up.

One success on its own might be luck. But as the list grows, it gets harder and harder to ignore. Maybe, after all, that promotion wasn't a mistake.