Some days I feel like an imposter. I wake up, enjoy breakfast and coffee with my wife, commute the few steps to my desk, then proceed by some miracle to convince myself and others that I'm a CTO, an aspiring writer, a fully-functioning adult, and basically a productive, valuable member of society. The "real me" cowers behind this facade, afraid to be exposed: for everybody to finally wise up and figure out that I don't really know what I'm doing.
On imposter syndrome
On imposter syndrome
On imposter syndrome
Some days I feel like an imposter. I wake up, enjoy breakfast and coffee with my wife, commute the few steps to my desk, then proceed by some miracle to convince myself and others that I'm a CTO, an aspiring writer, a fully-functioning adult, and basically a productive, valuable member of society. The "real me" cowers behind this facade, afraid to be exposed: for everybody to finally wise up and figure out that I don't really know what I'm doing.