middle ground

Feeling like an imposter from day one

Imposter syndrome has been a constant companion throughout my career, showing up from the very beginning. When I was hired as a junior developer while still studying, I felt completely overwhelmed. Trying to balance work and school was like attempting to juggle flaming swords — and trust me, I’m not even good at juggling normal swords. The more I learned, the more I realized how little I actually knew. Every new task made me question whether I deserved to be there at all.

It didn’t help that in tech, everything changes so fast. When at the beginning of my career I finally got a grasp on React and Class Components boom! - Function Components. Just as you’ve finally gotten comfortable with one framework, another new and "improved" version comes along to ruin your day. Scratch that! Usually it's one and the same framework ruining your day. Looking at you Next.js I remember when Next.js introduced a new routing approach — I had just wrapped my head around the old one! It felt like I was shopping in a grocery store that moves the aisles around every week. The bread is never where you it was the other time, and somehow, they expect you to find it. The constant scrambling to adapt while delivering high-quality software made me feel like an imposter at every turn.

"If you're not feeling a little lost, are you even trying?"

But here’s the thing: imposter syndrome often shows up when you’re actually growing. It’s like a signpost saying, “You’ve entered uncharted territory!” At first, it feels terrifying, but it’s also a checkpoint reminding you that you’re pushing yourself beyond your comfort zone. What I’ve come to realize is that feeling like an imposter doesn’t mean I don’t belong — it means I’m learning, and that's the whole point of growth. As long as I am not giving into the imposter syndrome, not letting it overwhelm me and instead embracing it as a signal to grow, I am fine.

The joy of curiosity (even when it doesn’t seem productive)

Lately, I’ve been reminded of the value of curiosity. Recently, I spent an entire weekend tinkering with Asahi Linux on my MacBook — not because I had to, but because I wanted to. This wasn’t for work or any side project. I didn’t even have a concrete goal in mind (other than not breaking my computer). It was just for the joy of exploring something new. - and seeing Cyberpunk 2077 running as slideshow at 2FPS but on MacBook!

And honestly, there was something liberating about it. Sometimes I get so caught up in the idea of productivity and outcomes that I forget the excitement that got us into tech in the first place. That’s the power of curiosity: it keeps you motivated even when imposter syndrome is whispering, “You’re not good enough.”

Creating a space for vulnerability (and why I don’t need all the answers)

As I moved into leadership roles, I initially felt the pressure to have all the answers. As a tech lead, and later head of engineering, I thought I had to be the one with all the solutions. Spoiler alert: I wasn’t.

Over time, I learned that being open about my own struggles with imposter syndrome actually helped others. When having one-on-one conversations with my team I shared my own doubts and uncertainties. These conversations weren’t about providing answers — they were about creating space for vulnerability.

Turns out, that vulnerability was more reassuring than I expected. People opened up, admitted their own struggles, and we realized that none of us had everything figured out. It was like we were all lost in that ever-changing grocery store together¹. Somehow, that made it easier to navigate.

The trick is to admit you're lost before you end up in the cereal aisle for the third time.

Imposter syndrome as a tool for growth

Imposter syndrome is uncomfortable, but it’s also a tool for growth. It’s like a mirror that pops up at crucial moments in my career, showing me where I’m pushing myself and where I’m making progress. I’ve started to see it not as a blocker, but as a signal to pause, reflect, and appreciate how far I’ve come.

And it’s not just me — a study by Rosenstein et al. (2020)² found that 57% of computer science students experience frequent feelings of the Imposter Phenomenon (IP), with the numbers rising to 71% among women. While self-reporting may not always fully capture the depth of this experience, the fact that a significant majority feels this way highlights the broader issue.

I often compare it to surfing. I mean I compare a lot of things in life to surfing... Anyways, in surfing, the waves are always changing. No two waves are the same, and I constantly have to adjust in the water and learn from every fall. I never master the ocean, but I get better at reading it. Tech is much the same to me — I never master it completely, but with every challenge, I get a little better at riding the tech wave. This makes learning the next thing a little bit easier.

Building community through candid conversations

Although I never had a formal mentor, I found that candid conversations with colleagues and peers served the same purpose. In our chats, we would share our doubts and struggles, often laughing at how lost we all felt. It was in these conversations that I realized: no one has everything figured out, and that’s perfectly okay.

These moments showed me the power of community, even if it’s informal. Sometimes, all you need is a good chat over coffee to realize that imposter syndrome isn’t a personal flaw — it’s something we all face together.

None of us have all the answers, but we can definitely help each other find the cereal aisle.

Embracing the journey

Imposter syndrome isn’t something I “defeat” once and for all. It’s a checkpoint I’ll encounter over and over again, and that’s not a bad thing. By recognizing it as part of the process, I can use it to grow, reflect, and push myself forward. Through curiosity, support from others, and a willingness to admit when I don’t know something, I can keep moving forward.

I believe we’re all on this journey together, and it’s through sharing our experiences that we help each other grow. No one has all the answers — and that’s perfectly okay.