You feel like an imposter. But are you?
You did the work. You earned the position. Still, there’s a difference between being qualified for a role and feeling like the person who’s supposed to fill it.
Have you ever found yourself in a position you had hoped for but didn’t really expect? It might suddenly hit you that you’re supposed to be the expert, maybe a leader. You begin to wonder if you’re really qualified. You aren’t prepared for the responsibility and don’t feel you deserve it. That’s the uncomfortable territory of Imposter Syndrome.
For a psychologist facing his first private‑practice client, that difference can feel enormous. The following excerpts from the novel “A Silence That Moves” illustrate the discomfort associated with stepping into a role that feels unearned.
I. The Void “It was the day I had worked toward for years. I was finally about to see my first client in my own office. Standing there, waiting for the hour to begin, my confidence began to slip. What had I been thinking? Borrowing money, opening an office, planning a wedding… all of it suddenly felt reckless. I looked around the room. No art. No small touches. Nothing that said anything about me. I had no instruments to display, no props to hide behind. Just a chair, a couch, and me—my ears, my voice, and whatever skill I hoped I had.
The closer it got to the appointment time, the more I noticed every flaw. I was going to ask people to pay to talk to me here? Some might take one look and walk right back out. My heart was picking up, each beat a little harder than the last. My client was already two minutes late. I stood there listening to the silence, aware of how much I had invested in being exactly where I was standing—and how little that seemed to steady me. Then I heard the front door open. She was here.”
II. The Transaction “I glanced at the clock. The moment of truth had arrived. I’d only worked in clinics and had never had to ask a client for payment. Things were now different—I was a businessman. I stiffened my spine. ‘We discussed my fee over the phone. How will you be paying today?’ I did my best to hide my relief when she dipped into her purse. As she was leaving, a feeling washed over me. She was a client, just as the many others I had worked with during my training. Her suffering was just as real. I could do this!”
III. The Zinger “I came home feeling charged and positive. Anna, my wife‑to‑be, greeted me at the door. Today she was understandably interested in the session, considering our future financial well‑being was involved.
I gave the ethically safe answer: my first client was an interesting young woman and I enjoyed talking with her. Anna wasn’t satisfied. She asked about her age, then her appearance. I commented, in an offhand manner, that she was attractive. Why was she asking? Did I say too much? Then she made a comment that got my thoughts swirling: ‘You mean she paid that much just for talking with you? I get to talk to you for free, and even then it isn’t much of a bargain.’ I hate to say it, but she found a sore spot. I do feel strange about asking people to pay me for talking with them. Was I charging too much? Was it worth it, just to talk with me? My insides churned. I felt like a fraud. Still, what I do is work… hard work.”
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