Imposter Syndrome Hit Me Out of Nowhere--And It Was Brutal

Imposter Syndrome Hit Me Out of Nowhere --

And It Was Brutal

"Well, that's a standard and it should be on every time."

I still hear that tone.

Not just the words—the tone. The kind that makes you feel small, incompetent, and completely unprepared. And it came from someone I genuinely respected and was so excited to finally meet.

Thirty minutes before my first virtual summit went live.

Over closed captioning in Zoom.

Now, we hadn't turned it on because we never received a request for it—but that didn't matter in that moment. What I felt in that moment wasn't about fear—it was that deep, familiar ache of being made to feel like I didn't belong in a space I had worked hard to create.

"Hi, imposter syndrome." Worst Timing Ever –

So, what did I do?

I buried it. I had no choice. I didn't have time to fall apart! I compartmentalized every bit of that shame and anxiety, took a breath, and walked into my summit smiling like everything was absolutely fine.

Honestly? I should have won an Oscar for that opening.

Because here's what kept me going: my commitment to show up for my audience was simply bigger than my fear. Full stop!!

And you know what? The summit was a success. I signed six people into my virtual training sessions that day. Six! Afterward, yes, I sat with those feelings. But I refused— refused—to let them define me or what I had just pulled off.

Instead, I asked myself: what's the real lesson here?

It wasn't "you forgot a standard." It was "accessibility is about people." Some folks join virtual events with the sound completely off—a baby sleeping nearby, sitting poolside, you name it. Closed captioning is an act of inclusion, not just a technical checkbox. That was worth learning.

That person's tone? Not worth giving it space anymore in my mind.

I'm a recovering perfectionist. I'll own that completely. And today when imposter syndrome sneaks back in, because it does at times, I don't fight it or run from it. I pause. I feel it. I name it. And then I move through it, revisiting my mindset ritual, stacking new affirmations on top of real, tangible evidence of the people I've helped and the goals we've achieved together.

Imposter syndrome does not live here.

Because when I am called to serve you—to help you level up your speaking skills, own your voice, and grab the future you deserve—that calling is always going to be louder than the voice that tried to make me feel small.

Has imposter syndrome ever showed up at the worst possible moment for you? Tell me about it in the comments. You are not alone.