Imposter Syndrome Is Running Your Marketing Department
And it doesn’t even know what you do for a living.
There’s a strange thing that happens when you sit down to write about your work.
You know who you are. You’ve done the hours. You’ve walked through fire to get here. You’ve helped people — real people — in real ways. You’ve studied, practiced, honed. You’ve lived enough lives to have stories for each decade, and somehow you still feel like you need to ask permission before you press “post.”
You stare at the blank page and, instead of writing like the expert you are, something in you flinches.
Suddenly the words get quieter. Softer. More careful. The bigness of what you wanted to say gets wrapped in caveats and justifications. You find yourself rearranging sentences, sanding off the edges, asking — silently, maybe even unconsciously — Will they think I’m full of myself? Will they think I’m too much?
And before you know it, you’ve written something so neutral, so tidy, so safe… it doesn’t sound like you at all.
When the Inner Critic Starts Speaking on Behalf of the Brand
Imposter syndrome isn’t just a psychological term to be tossed around in coaching circles. It’s a shape-shifter. It disguises itself as humility. It whispers through your fingers while you type. It asks you to edit your own brilliance down to something more palatable — before anyone even sees it.
And here’s what it does to your brand:
It turns strong, clear offers into vague suggestions.
It trades clarity for cleverness.
It strips the soul out of your voice, replacing it with generic “professional” phrasing.
It leads you to undervalue your services, or worse — apologize for them.
Imposter syndrome, left unchecked, becomes the quiet creative director of your brand. And it doesn’t even understand what you're trying to say. It only knows how to keep you safe — by keeping you small.
“My Imposter Syndrome disappeared when I remembered the impact I had on my clients.”
The Deeper Story Beneath “I Don’t Know What to Say”
In my narrative coaching work, this pattern comes up often. Not just with beginners. With seasoned professionals, experts, coaches, creatives, CEOs. People who are brilliant, but who hesitate to tell the truth of that brilliance out loud.
And what I’ve come to realize is this: imposter syndrome isn’t actually about skill. It’s about story. More specifically, the story you’ve inherited — and maybe never questioned.
Perhaps you were raised in an environment where visibility meant vulnerability. Or you were rewarded for being agreeable, not exceptional. Maybe you had a teacher, or a parent, or a boss who treated your confidence like a threat.
Somewhere along the way, a quiet contract was written inside you: Don’t stand out. Don’t speak too strongly. Don’t be too proud of yourself.
And now, years later, when it’s time to describe what you do and how it changes lives — that old story rises up and grips the pen.
So What Would Happen If You Told the Truth?
Here’s the part where I’ll ask you something gently, but directly:
What would you say about your work — about your story, your skills, your gifts — if you weren’t worried about being misunderstood?
Not what would you say if you were fearless (you’re human — there will always be a little fear).
But what would you say if you were free?
Because you don’t need to sound like anyone else. You don’t need to water down your message or bend it into someone else’s template. You’re allowed to sound like the person who’s lived your life. You’re allowed to own the wisdom you’ve earned.
Your audience — the one that’s meant for you — isn’t looking for perfection. They’re looking for resonance. For someone who says what they didn’t know they needed to hear. For someone whose voice feels like truth.
And that will only happen when your story — not your self-doubt — is the one doing the talking.
The Rewrite Begins Where the Shrinking Stops
Imposter syndrome doesn’t disappear in a puff of smoke. But it does lose power when we name it. When we recognize its tone and say, kindly but clearly, not today.
Every time you choose to write as your whole self — not your watered-down self — you reclaim a little more voice, a little more ground, a little more presence.
And that shift? It ripples through everything.
Your messaging becomes magnetic.
Your offers feel alive.
Your clients — the right ones — recognize you.
Because you're no longer hiding behind disclaimers.
You're finally telling the truth.
Want to Tell the Story Only You Can Tell?
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Let’s stop shrinking.
Let’s start telling the real story.