Standing in the Fog of Imposter Syndrome

Imposter syndrome is sneaky. It doesn’t usually crash into my life with a dramatic entrance. It slips in quietly, whispering that I’m not smart enough, not capable enough, not spiritual enough, not something enough. And even after years of working, healing, and rebuilding myself more times than I can count — a whole life full of evidence that I am capable and resilient — those whispers can still feel loud.

Lately, I’ve been standing in a thick fog of not‑enoughness. I’ve been moving through a season where things feel wobby. It’s one of those times when multiple parts of life converge at once: work, identity, purpose, finances, friends, health. And when that happens, the stories about not being enough tend to flare up.

A place where this has been especially present lately is in my work.

The Contract That Shook My Confidence

I’ve been working as a bid manager in government contracting for nearly 20 years. (And yes, it’s often as boring as it sounds.) Last spring, I made the leap from full-time work to part-time consulting so I could have time and space for Akamai. Most of my consulting work these days comes from one major healthcare client. I’ve completed four large projects with them — all successful, all well‑received. But the current project I’m on? It’s been brutal.

The feedback has been vague but cutting: I’m not “present” enough, not “leaned in” enough (gag me with the corporate speak). I often leave meetings feeling confused, like I’m missing something obvious, like everyone else is speaking a language I should already know. I can sense their frustration, and I’ve internalized it as proof that I’m not intelligent enough to be there.

Because I’m a contractor, I could walk away. But walking away affects my income and my reputation, and right now, this client is the pillar of my financial stability.

I tried to manage it alone for weeks, spiraling in self‑doubt, until I finally reached out for help. That person validated what I felt — that this team is confusing, that the expectations are unclear — but ultimately, the decision of what to do next still fell on me.

What I’ve learned is that I need time to process. I need to write things out to find clarity. So I did. I wrote down everything I need to say, and I requested to have a direct conversation with this team. I asked for clearer communication and defined responsibilities, and I was honest about feeling like I wasn’t doing a good job. It was a humbling conversation to have, to admit I was struggling, and time will tell if things improve.

And still — even with 20 years of experience and far more successes than failures — I’m losing sleep over this. I’m almost 50 years old, and it still hurts when people don’t seem to like me or think I’m doing well.

The Healer Who Feels Like an Outsider

Then there’s my other world — the healing work I love. I’ve been practicing Reiki and breathwork for years, and I formalized that into Akamai a couple of years ago. But when I’m around others in the healing space, I often feel like I don’t belong. I’m not as “woo‑woo” as some, not as scholarly as others. I don’t have a library of ancient texts memorized. I don’t always have the perfect explanation for the things my clients and students are feeling.

But I’m also not the corporate version of myself anymore. I’m straddling two worlds, and some days it feels like I don’t fully fit in either. That confusion alone can make imposter syndrome feel like a tidal wave.

The Sound Healing Detour

Sound healing has been calling to me for years. I’ve been slowly collecting instruments, learning how to work with them, and building relationships with them. It still feels basic compared to others’ offerings, but it feels right to me.

So when a local studio hired me to provide sound for three events, I felt validated. This was proof I was on the right path! After the first event, I got lukewarm feedback but reassurance that I was doing well enough.

Then, weeks before the second event, they told me I was no longer needed.

It broke our contract. It broke my trust. And it broke something in me for a moment. That old familiar voice whispered, You’re not good enough. You don’t know enough. You’re not enough.

The Truth Beneath the Noise

Here’s what I keep reminding myself: Most of the negative self‑talk I hear is not truth. It’s fear. It’s old conditioning. It’s my brain trying to protect me from rejection, failure, or discomfort.

Not everyone is going to like me. Not every project will be a fit. Not every opportunity will unfold the way I hoped.

That doesn’t mean I’m failing at life. It doesn’t mean I’m bad at my jobs. And it doesn’t mean I’m not meant for the work I love.

Sitting in the Uncomfortable Middle

In the past, when I’ve felt this lost, I’ve numbed out — with food, with alcohol, with overworking, with rushing toward the first available solution just to escape the discomfort. And that approach has never worked.

So this time, I’m sitting in the ambiguity. I’m letting myself feel the fog without trying to outrun it. I’m trusting that clarity will come, because it always has.

I’m tending to myself the way I encourage others to tend themselves: through movement, through being in nature more often, through breathing, through music, through community, and through rest.

If You’re in the Fog, Too

If you’re standing in your own season of doubt, I want you to know this: You are not alone. You are not failing. You are not behind. You are not broken.

You are simply in the middle — the messy, uncomfortable, deeply human middle. And clarity always comes. Not on our timeline, but in its own way.

Until then, we keep going — imperfect and more than enough.