The Tyranny of ´´Imposter Syndrome´´

Impostor syndrome has become one of those phrases that gets thrown around everywhere now — podcasts, workplaces, online panels, Instagram posts telling you to “own your worth” or whatever the slogan of the week is. At this point, it almost sounds like a trendy condition, something you admit to in a half-joking way: “Oh, I’m just waiting to be found out.”

But beneath all the breezy talk, there’s something much heavier going on. Because for the people who really struggle with it, impostor syndrome isn’t a quirk or a cute insecurity. It’s a constant sense that you’ve somehow tricked the world into giving you opportunities you don’t deserve — and that any minute now someone’s going to catch you out.

You see it in the excuses people make for their own achievements:“I just got lucky.”“It wasn’t a big deal.”“Anyone could have done it.”They’ll accept blame in a heartbeat, but try to hand them praise and watch how quickly they dodge it.

On the surface, you might think this is just modesty — the Irish tendency to downplay things. But it’s more than that. This is anxiety dressed up as humility. It’s a deep belief that you’re a fraud, even when every bit of evidence says otherwise.

And like most things that look irrational in adulthood, it usually didn’t start in adulthood.

Many people with impostor syndrome grew up in environments where their efforts went unnoticed, or where achievements were expected as standard and only mistakes got attention. Maybe you had a sibling who outshone you, or parents who didn’t offer much affirmation, or caretakers who praised you only when you performed — academically, socially, or in whatever way earned approval.

In that kind of setting, you learn quickly that being good isn’t enough — you must be exceptional just to be seen. So when adult life brings success, you don’t absorb it. You don’t trust it. You look at your own accomplishments and feel nothing but pressure and fear.Because the old script is still running in the background:“If I don’t keep this up perfectly, I’ll be exposed.”

That’s the tyranny of it — success doesn’t soothe the insecurity. It amplifies it. Every achievement becomes a ticking clock, every new opportunity another chance to fail. People with impostor syndrome often push themselves harder than anyone else, not out of ambition but out of dread. The stress builds, the anxiety hums away in the background, and the inner critic never shuts up. It’s exhausting.

And of course, none of this is helped by the modern myth that confidence is something you simply decide to have. As if you can declare yourself worthy in the mirror and years of internalised messages will obediently fall into line.

The truth is far less glamorous and far more human: impostor syndrome comes from wounds that were never acknowledged. It’s the echo of early experiences where you didn’t feel valued, affirmed, or genuinely seen. And until that’s addressed, all the pep talks in the world won’t shift it.

But — and this is important — the presence of impostor feelings doesn’t mean you’re broken, or unfit, or secretly incompetent. It means you’re human, shaped by the contexts you grew up in, still carrying beliefs that were never yours to begin with.

Slowly, with reflection and support, you can begin to see your achievements through clearer eyes, not as flukes, not as illusions, but as the result of your effort, ability, and persistence. You can soften the inner critic, challenge the old script, and let yourself take up the space you’ve earned.

Impostor syndrome whispers that you don’t belong. But if you strip away the fear, what you’ll usually find underneath is this simple truth: You do. You always did. You just learned not to believe it.

If you recognise yourself in any of this, you’re not on your own. Impostor feelings can run deep, and they don’t shift just because you tell yourself to “be more confident.” It usually takes time, patience, and a space where you can make sense of where all this started.

If you’d like to explore this in a way that feels safe and steady, I work with people struggling with these patterns online, so you don’t have to be local or come into a room.You can reach me through my website or get in touch directly at counselling@declanfitzpatrick.com and we can see whether it feels like a good fit.