Imposter syndrome plagues us all (doesn’t it?) from time to time. So what the heck is it and why does it happen? Outdoor filmmaker Heather Mosher leaps in for a closer look at her well-known nemesis.
It shows up with each new project, which, as an adventure documentary filmmaker, happens constantly.
There’s a moment of excitement, but the jubilance is short-lived. I start to feel anxious—a squeezing compression in my chest, it gets tough to focus, doubts interrupt my dreams. “I don’t know how to do this”, goes the internal narrative. Dread seeps in.
Last fall, as we settled into our cush theatre seats one evening at the Banff Mountain Film Festival, I learned I wasn’t alone in this experience. An objectively successful filmmaker and athlete admitted she’d just had a cry back in her room, washed up and barely made it to the theatre on time. “Imposter syndrome,” she whispered conspiratorially. I knew exactly what she meant. Realizing that I wasn’t alone in this feeling felt—revelatory.
At the film festival, I soft-pitched the idea of a column on imposter syndrome to the editors of this very publication. We should talk about this, I said, all fired up. That feeling bubbled up feistily through my ribcage, ready to ignite. But as soon as I sat down to write about it, the fire was gone. Like a cold draft, the anxiety of imposter syndrome had squeezed back in.
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How ironic, I thought. “You don’t know how to do this. Worse: you’re going to publish all these feelings of inadequacy, and then they’re going to know you don’t know how to do this.”
As with most of my scary ideas, I figured I should take a closer look. To sort out what exactly is going on when we say “imposter syndrome”, I sat down with Registered Clinical Counsellor Liina Hayman.
“Do I have imposter syndrome?” I asked Liina, straight up.
She arched an eyebrow at me, indicating I already knew the answer: “Who doesn’t?”
If we’re in a space where no one else looks like us, or any new situation, it’s very normal to feel like we don’t belong, she explains. Most people will experience imposter syndrome in the first year of a new job, for example. It’s not a gendered experience, either—men are just as likely to feel it as women.
So, when I start to experience that anxiety-chest-squeezing-I-can’t-do-this feeling, what do I do? I ask.
The first step is awareness. Once I can name what I’m feeling, it’s way easier to decide what to do about it. Feelings are just signals that require your attention. “They’re like a car alarm and just because the car alarm is going off, doesn’t mean someone is trying to steal the car.” Or: just because it feels like I don’t know what I’m doing, doesn’t make it true.
Imposter syndrome shows up when we don’t feel like we belong, and when we don’t trust ourselves. The next two pieces are where the work begins.
How do I find belonging, and how do I trust myself? Those are both up to me, says Liina.
Feelings are just signals that require your attention. “They’re like a car alarm and just because the car alarm is going off, doesn’t mean someone is trying to steal the car.”
Hearing this is both frightening—that’s a lot of responsibility!—and empowering. How imposter syndrome shows up for me, and what I do about it, is squarely within my own control.
I ran these ideas past filmmaker and friend Jen Randall, who’s been making adventure films about women, landscape, and identity—and winning countless awards along the way—for more than a decade. I’m curious how imposter syndrome has shown up in her career, and how she’s dealt with it.
Early on, Jen says, “I didn’t feel like an imposter because I was quite naïve. I didn’t know what I was stepping into.” She entered the space with healthy confidence and a well-developed creative voice. Even still, she recalls with stinging clarity when a fellow adventure filmmaker told her, “You’ll never get invited on expeditions, because it’s awkward having a woman on the team.” Ouch!
“That was a dagger to my heart, honestly,” Jen says. “But then, I built my own teams. I didn’t need to get invited.”
There it is: create your own sense of belonging. Surround yourself with people who are your people, build your own crew.
In recent years, she’s decided to focus her creative energies on editing and post-production. In the early days of this new role, she was learning so many new intricacies of editing that the ol’ imposter syndrome flared up. Her strategy? “I’d start saying to myself, ‘Okay, today is a school day.’ It really helped my brain shift from ‘I should know this already’ to ‘Okay, let’s learn how to do this.’”
That’s the second piece: Learn how to trust yourself. Jen now works with a consistent creative team within which she knows she brings value and skills to a range of high-end clients.
The closer I look at this idea of imposter syndrome, the less scary it seems. In fact, I think it’s time for a re-frame. When imposter syndrome shows up, I’m done seeing it as a limitation. It’s no good if I let it paralyze me.
I’m going to look at it as an opportunity, a signal that I’m doing something new—I’m learning, and I’m stretching myself. If I’m really lucky, I might be doing something not just new to me, but something completely new. It could be an opportunity to blaze a trail, and one where I get to write the rules.
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