I just got off a career coaching session, and the thing that wouldn’t leave me alone, again, was imposter syndrome.

My coach gave me homework. Journal. Pull it out of your head. Don’t sugarcoat it. Figure out what’s actually true in there.

So fine. Here’s what’s true.

What’s True

I’m good at my job.

I am not the oldest person in most rooms. I don’t have the most years of experience. But I’m a quick learner. I listen. I execute. I do a lot of things really well, and I know that I do.

There. I said it. I had to type that paragraph three times before I left it alone, which tells you everything. The voice in my head wanted to soften every word of it — add a “but,” tack on a “of course there’s a lot I still have to learn.” That’s the imposter syndrome talking. The voice that does not want me writing any of this in public.

Over the Top

Here’s the other true thing, the one that lives right next to the first one: I do everything over the top.

Birthday parties. Work. My kids. My friendships. I am, dictionary-definition, a perfectionist. If it isn’t right, I spiral.

And I get nervous about being perceived as over the top. Will the people who don’t love their job think I’m bragging? Will the people who haven’t gotten the breaks I’ve gotten think I’m being smug? Jealousy exists. Of course it does. I have it too. Who doesn’t.

But what I’m actually scared of is being seen as self-serving. As someone making sure everyone knows how great she is. As, to use words that lived in my head from a younger me, a suck-up, a brown-noser, a try-hard.

I heard those words enough as a kid that they stuck.

Try Hard

Here’s the thing, though. I do try hard. I work my ass off. I give 100% to everything. I want everything I touch to be done well, and when it isn’t, it eats me.

I’ve been like this forever. I was the kid who wouldn’t play a sport unless I already knew I’d be good at it. I liked being the best. I’m still that kid.

But I’m competitive in a specific way. I don’t want to be the best because someone else did worse. I want to be the best because I was actually the best. I never want to climb on top of someone. I just want to rise.

The trouble is, the second I start rising, I talk myself back down. I second-guess. I find the reason it doesn’t count. Doesn’t everyone already know how to do this? Aren’t I just doing what anyone could do?

Take right now. I’m helping lead a bunch of AI work at my company, and it’s the most fun I’ve had at a job in a long time. And the imposter syndrome is loud. Why me? Doesn’t everyone know this?

(They don’t.)

The Money Conversation

The same thing shows up when it’s time to talk about money. My coach has helped me see that when I get anxious about asking, it isn’t actually about money.

I make a good living. I don’t need more. But money is a proxy. It’s the cleanest, most external way the world says yes, what you’re doing has value. When I ask for it, what I’m really asking for is recognition — that the time, the thought, the effort, the spiraling at midnight, all of it, is worth something.

And then I talk myself out of it. I’m too young. I haven’t been here long enough. I have too much still to learn.

If I’m doing the job, I should be paid for the job. I know this. I tell other women this. I’m still working on being able to tell myself.

I Don’t Have the Answer

Here’s where I get stuck. I don’t have the answer to this. Not yet.

I don’t know exactly where the boundaries should sit. I don’t know what to do, in the moment, when I feel the people-pleasing kicking in or the imposter voice getting loud. There’s no tidy bow on this one.

But I’m noticing. I’m pulling it out of my head and onto the page. Maybe that is the start.

I’m still the competitive kid who only wanted to play if she could be good. I’m still the perfectionist who needs everything buttoned up. I’m still trying hard.

I’m just learning to stop apologizing for it.