Tending to Imposter Syndrome
- Danielle Baker
- Apr 13
- 8 min read
Updated: Apr 14
Imposter syndrome is one of the most common visitors on the path of circle facilitation—and really, on the threshold of starting anything new or expanding into unfamiliar territory. It often slips in quietly—not always with a roar, but with a whisper:
"Who am I to do this?" "What if I’m not experienced or spiritual enough?" "Am I just pretending?"
It can feel like a full stop—a reason to shrink, retreat, or hide. But what if this doubt is not the end, but a deepening? What if it’s not a wall but a mirror?
Imposter syndrome is not a personal flaw—it’s a reflection of deeper collective and systemic wounds. When we trace its roots, we see it doesn’t originate from within us but from generations of disconnection, suppression, and inherited fear.
It's a sign that you're stepping out of your comfort zone. The voice that says "Am I good enough?" is also the voice that shows you care. It’s a reminder that you are new to something and that the unfamiliar needs time and space to become embodied.
This links deeply to themes of self-worth and approval. Practice self-compassion toward the parts of you that feel not good enough—and then gently rise. We all start somewhere. It’s okay to feel discomfort, confusion, and even fear.
These are not blocks—they are ingredients of wisdom that will shape your journey. These stories, when brought into the light, become tools of transformation—not just for you, but for those you hold space for.
Exploring Roots of Imposter Syndrome in Women
1. Patriarchal Conditioning: For generations, women were denied access to leadership, education, decision-making, and spiritual authority. This created a deep collective wound where women learned that their voices didn’t matter—or worse, that they were dangerous. Even today, when a woman steps into her power, it can feel like she’s breaking an ancient, unspoken rule.
"Who do you think you are?" is a question that has haunted women for centuries.
2. Perfectionism and People-Pleasing: Many women have been taught to achieve quietly, avoid mistakes, and keep others comfortable. This creates a breeding ground for imposter syndrome: if we’re not perfect, if someone is uncomfortable, or if we don’t have all the answers, we feel we’ve failed.
3. Lack of Representation: When we rarely see women like ourselves—whether in body, background, identity, or style—in visible leadership roles, it’s easy to internalize the idea that we don’t belong. Especially in spiritual or healing communities, where certain aesthetics or credentials are uplifted, many women feel: “I don’t fit the mold.”
4. Colonial Disconnection from Intuition & Lineage: Imposter syndrome isn’t just about confidence. It’s also about disconnection from ancestral knowing and inner truth. Colonization, religious dogma, and modern schooling systems have silenced the intuitive voice within many of us. This creates a fractured relationship with our own authority.
5. Comparison Culture: Social media often paints a curated image of others who seem more enlightened, confident, or qualified. This illusion fuels the sense that we’re not enough—that everyone else has it figured out except us.
The Risk of Resisting It
When imposter syndrome arises and we ignore it, dismiss it, or push through it, something gets lost.
We may stop showing up fully. We hide our gifts. We speak from our heads rather than our hearts. We overcompensate—or we pretend. In some cases, we create unnecessary risk by offering practices we haven't fully integrated or understood.
The spectrum swings both ways. On one end, we silence ourselves. On the other, we perform. Neither is truly received as safe within the body.
What’s needed is honesty—not perfection, not performance. Just what’s real and what’s present. That is more than enough.
From Block to Nourishment
Sometimes, imposter syndrome is a messenger—not of failure but of care. It asks us to pause and reflect:
Are you offering something that feels fully embodied?
Are there parts of your story that want more integration before being shared?
Is your body asking for slowness or support?
Are you aware of how this offering may affect others, and are you prepared to hold that?
For instance, trauma-based practices can feel deeply meaningful, but without the deeper understanding and attunement, they may overwhelm participants or surface wounds that require skilled holding.
Imposter syndrome in this context may be asking you to deepen your preparation—not to stop, but to root more firmly.
This is not the end of your path—it’s an invitation to deepen into it.
An Invitation, Not a Verdict
Imposter syndrome literally means to feel like a fraud, a pretender. But let’s pause—who is it we’re trying to imitate? Maybe it’s a real person, or maybe it’s an abstract role, an idealized version created by the mind.
So the questions become:
Who made this person or this role the gold standard?
What does this role mean to me?
What qualities is it asking for?
How can I embody those qualities in a way that’s authentic to me?
What parts of this role no longer align with my truth?
A role isn’t a person. It’s a projection of qualities. A composite of inner knowing and heart wisdom.. Sometimes, it’s not the role itself that’s the issue—but the shape we’ve been told it should take.
As a space holder, consider:
What has influenced your desire to step into this role?
Was it a deep inner calling?
A circle you once attended?
A post or video on social media?
A cultural image you internalized about how a leader “should” be?
Are you holding an expectation of yourself or your circle that may not be yours to carry?
This is a call to return to the heart. To create from your inner well, not external ideology.
Let’s go even deeper.
What is your earliest memory of discomfort in a role?
What did that feel like?
What would you say to that younger version of you now?
How did that moment shape you?
And how might it still be shaping your patterns today?
There’s another layer to this: the messages our body sends can sometimes be misread.
I remember preparing to hold a circle. As I dropped into a grounding meditation before anyone arrived, I noticed my heart was racing, my hands a little shaky. My mind jumped in—"You’re nervous. Maybe you’re not ready to lead this." It spiraled: "Maybe this isn’t your place. Maybe you should cancel."
But I stayed with the sensation, gently. And then I remembered—I hadn’t eaten all day. I’d been rushing. My body wasn’t warning me I was unworthy. It was asking for nourishment.
I named it aloud at the start of the circle. I didn’t push the sensation away—I let it sit with me. I didn’t label it, I let it be curious. And right at the end of the circle, the clarity came through.
So often, what we call "imposter syndrome" is simply a message that hasn’t been translated yet.
Practice: Listening for What’s Beneath the Voice
This practice is a gentle way to connect with what’s truly present when imposter syndrome arises. You may do this in a quiet space before leading, or any time self-doubt surfaces.
Drop the Language: Let go of the story for a moment. Stop naming the feeling “fear” or “nerves” or “imposter syndrome.” Just feel.
Notice the Sensation: Where is this living in your body? Your chest? Belly? Throat? Is it hot, tight, fluttery, heavy?
Stay with It: Sit without rushing. Let the sensation be what it is. Breathe with it.
Ask the Deeper Question: – What is the true message here? – What part of me is trying to be seen? – What is it asking for—nourishment, rest, reassurance, connection?
Wait and Listen: The message may come now. Or it may arrive later—in a dream, in a flash of insight while walking, or in a moment of stillness.
Speak to It: If it feels right, speak kindly to that part of you. Let it know you hear it. Let it be a companion, not a problem.
This practice isn’t about silencing or fixing. It’s about tending. You may be surprised at what arises when you make space—not just to ask, but to listen.
Let this be part of your rhythm as a facilitator. To pause. To feel. To stay present. And to lead not from the version you think you should be—but from the truth of who you are, in this moment.
Imposter syndrome thrives in silence and isolation. One of the deepest fears it carries is the fear of being seen—and not measuring up. But what if being seen, in our imperfection, is the medicine?
When we share vulnerably—not as a performance, but as an offering—we dismantle the illusion that everyone else has it together. This is not about oversharing or centering our wounds; it's about allowing the human to be present alongside the wise one. To let the leader be led. To let the spaceholder be held.
Courage in this context is not loud. It is soft. It is the courage to show up, tender and real. It is the choice to keep our hearts open, even when the old programming urges us to protect or prove.
Imposter syndrome is often entangled with shame—the quiet but heavy belief that we are inherently not enough. Shame creates the need for perfection as a shield. If we’re perfect, we think, we’ll be safe from criticism or rejection. But perfection is impossible, so the loop continues: we never arrive, we never relax, we never feel truly worthy.
This is the loop we break when we allow ourselves to start where we are. To offer what we can, knowing that wisdom is born in practice, not in theory. Every circle you hold becomes a co-created space where you are both guide and student. Every mistake becomes a teaching. Every honest moment becomes a seed for collective healing.
The more facilitators speak to these inner experiences—the doubt, the shakiness, the awkward beginnings—the more we normalize the journey. The more we create circles where no one has to wear a mask, the better. Where truth is more important than polish. Where the nervous laugh, the shaking voice, the pause for breath—are welcomed.
This is how imposter syndrome becomes a shared healing ground. Not something we must conquer alone, but something we learn to hold together.
You are not being asked to be flawless. You are being asked to be present.
When imposter syndrome shows up, let it speak. Don’t shove it aside—listen. Let it become part of your conversation with yourself and your circle. It might be pointing toward greater alignment, or a deeper truth ready to emerge.
You don’t need to know everything. You don’t need to have it all figured out. You only need to offer what is real—what is embodied—what is yours to share.
Imposter syndrome is not a barrier; it is a companion. It is a sign that you care. That you are walking with integrity. That you are listening. And that is powerful.
Let it guide you—not from fear, but from truth. Let it nourish your facilitation, refine your offerings, and strengthen your connection to yourself and your circle.
You don’t have to push through it. You only have to stay with it, and move from what is honest. That is more than enough.
A Memory
I remember when I was nursing, the feeling was so strong it made me feel sick. I had studied at university for four years, had already been in the healthcare world for six years, yet I still felt I wasn’t competent enough. Mixed in with the fear of messing up—because this was people’s lives—I started to spiral.
What made it worse was the culture of silence. In the medical field, there’s often a fear of asking for help, because no one has time to support a newly qualified nurse. Yes, there was a mentor assigned to me, but I was failed for asking too many questions. "She doesn’t seem ready," they said. "She’s always second guessing." I was a first-year student.
I stopped asking. I started Googling in the toilets. I studied harder. I avoided certain patients. My nervous system was fried. I swung through the full spectrum—hide, avoid, overcompensate, pretend, push, overperform.
Does this sound familiar?
In a world governed by the mind, where worth is often measured through knowledge over wisdom or intuition, we raise humans who never feel ready—never feel worthy—always needing another course, another certificate, another external proof of worthiness. Or we simply never step in at all.
Imagine a world where we could speak our doubts without shame. Share our questions without fear of judgment. Be supported, not ridiculed. Rise together, seeing that we each hold unique layers and gifts.
I believe we need to unschool ourselves from the systems that conditioned us to conform. It begins in childhood and continues through institutions like universities.
No more shame. It’s time to slow down, to welcome the nuance, to welcome it all—and to hold each other with our hearts wide open.
I would love to hear your insights and reflections below.
Love, Danielle
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