You’ve felt it. That quiet fear that you’re faking it. That you’re not really as capable as people think. That eventually, someone will realise you don’t belong and that they made a mistake.
Most people call it imposter syndrome.
And often, it is.
But not always.
What gets labelled imposter syndrome often has something else going on underneath.
Sometimes it’s imposter syndrome.
Sometimes it’s a trauma response.
Sometimes it’s neurodivergence.
Sometimes it’s more than one of these, tangled together.
The feeling can look the same.
What helps depends entirely on what’s underneath.
When it really is imposter syndrome
This is the version most people recognise.
You get the promotion, deliver the presentation, hit the target, and still think: I just got lucky. You dismiss positive feedback. You work harder than necessary to prove you deserve your place. You quietly worry about being found out, even when the evidence says otherwise.
It’s especially common when:
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You’re in a new or high-stakes role
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You’re surrounded by highly capable peers
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You’re the only one in the room by background, identity or experience
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You’ve always set a high bar for yourself
A client once said to me, “I’m just waiting for someone to realise they’ve overestimated me.” She was running a division.
What helps here is usually straightforward.
Naming it can loosen its grip.
Checking the facts matters more than how you feel.
Talking it through with someone who sees you clearly helps recalibrate your judgement.
This is where executive coaching [link] often helps, not by boosting confidence, but by restoring perspective.
Imposter syndrome is uncomfortable, but once recognised, it’s often workable.
When self-doubt is actually a trauma response
This version is harder to spot, particularly in people who look successful on the surface.
If you grew up needing to be useful, vigilant, invisible or exceptional in order to stay safe, those patterns don’t disappear when you enter the workforce. They tend to surface under pressure.
I’m working with a senior executive who is competent, respected and widely trusted. In a new role, she’s found herself tearing up in meetings. Not because she’s out of her depth, but because her nervous system is.
The stress, the uncertainty and the interpersonal dynamics are triggering older survival patterns she didn’t realise were still active.
Fight, flight, freeze and fawn aren’t abstract concepts. They show up in workplaces every day.
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Fight can look like defensiveness or micromanaging
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Flight often shows up as overwork or avoidance
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Freeze can look like blanking, zoning out or going quiet
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Fawn often means people-pleasing or over-accommodating
These responses made sense once.
They don’t stop making sense until the cost outweighs the protection.
What helps here isn’t reassurance.
It’s noticing the pattern.
Supporting the nervous system, not just the thinking.
Working with someone who understands what sits underneath behaviour, not just how it presents.
This is often the kind of work people access through Coach on Call [link], especially when pressure spikes suddenly.
This isn’t a mindset issue. It’s about adaptation, and knowing when an old strategy has outlived its usefulness.
When neurodivergence looks like imposter syndrome
There’s a third version that often gets missed entirely.
If you’re neurodivergent, you might feel like an imposter not because of your ability, but because of the effort required to navigate a work environment that wasn’t designed for how you think.
You might:
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Prefer written information but feel awkward asking for it
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Find unstructured meetings exhausting
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Spend conversations monitoring tone, timing and response while also tracking content
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End the day depleted, not from the work itself, but from managing how you show up
That internal load is rarely visible. From the outside, you look competent. Inside, you’re working much harder than anyone realises.
Many people label this as imposter syndrome when it’s actually ongoing adaptation.
What helps is reducing unnecessary friction, not trying to be more confident.
Clear expectations.
Fewer hidden rules.
Less pressure to mask.
You’re not pretending. You’re compensating.
What leaders need to understand
When someone appears unusually self-critical, overly accommodating or visibly stressed, it’s tempting to frame it as confidence.
But it’s often worth asking a different question.
Is this imposter syndrome?
A trauma response under pressure?
Someone burning out from constant adaptation?
The support required is different in each case.
Treating them all the same usually misses the point.
This is where Aligned Teams work often surfaces patterns leaders can’t see from inside the system.
So what’s really going on?
When someone says, “I feel like a fraud,” reassurance is rarely the most helpful response.
A better question is:
What kind of fraud do you think you are, and why?
Because if we treat all self-doubt as the same, we risk offering the wrong kind of help.
Confidence tips when trauma-aware support is needed.
Encouragement to be visible when someone is exhausted from masking.
Praise when the deeper question is whether they belong in the system at all.
Where this leaves you
If this is classic imposter syndrome, you’re probably growing.
If it’s trauma, you’ve already survived more than you realise.
If it’s neurodivergence, there’s nothing wrong with how you think.
You’re not an imposter.
You’re a person responding to pressure in a system that doesn’t always see what it asks of people.
That’s not fraud.
That’s information.
Image from Pexels
