If you’re struggling with Imposter Syndrome, you might already be familiar with the constant inner commentary: “You’re not good enough,” “You’re going to be found out,” “You only got here because of luck.” It can feel relentless — like a critical voice that won’t give you a break.
But what if, instead of constantly battling this voice, we took a different approach?
One of the most helpful things you can do is begin to externalise and personify your Imposter Syndrome. Rather than seeing it as part of you, see it as something with you. Something that turns up, uninvited, often at the worst possible times. When you do this, you can start to ask yourself: What sort of relationship do I have with it? How do I respond when it shows up? Do I fight with it, try to silence it, or pretend it’s not there?
Most people naturally want to get rid of their Imposter Syndrome — to silence it, outwork it, outsmart it. That makes sense. We’re wired to move away from discomfort, just like we’d reflexively pull our hand away from something hot. But psychological discomfort is different. When we try to suppress, avoid, or argue with our thoughts and feelings — especially ones like self-doubt or shame — we often find they get louder and more persistent.
So what’s the alternative?
Making Room for the Guest You Didn’t Invite
I often use the metaphor of Imposter Syndrome as an uninvited guest. You didn’t ask it to show up, but here it is, at your door. You’ve tried turning it away, but it keeps letting itself back in. So what kind of host are you going to be? Are you going to keep slamming the door in its face, or might it be more helpful to try something different?
This isn’t about agreeing with what Imposter Syndrome tells you. It’s about changing the way you relate to it. Rather than seeing it as an enemy to defeat, you might experiment with seeing it as part of your experience — something that’s trying (in a clumsy way) to protect you, even if it’s doing more harm than good.
The Uncle Argument Metaphor
Let’s bring this to life with a variation on a metaphor by Dr. David Carbonell, adapted here for Imposter Syndrome.
Imagine you’re at a family wedding, excited for the day ahead. You check the seating chart and realise — unfortunately — that you’ve been placed next to Uncle Argument. He’s the family member who always picks a fight. He disagrees for the sake of it, thrives on debate, and loves to get a rise out of people.
You can’t change seats. No one else wants to swap, and short of skipping the meal or leaving the wedding, you’re stuck. So what do you do?
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If you argue back, you’re in for a long, exhausting dinner.
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If you ignore him, he just gets louder.
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If you shout or try to shut him up, he sees it as a win.
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If you try to convince him you’re right, he digs his heels in.
Now imagine trying something different. You nod along, respond with a polite “Interesting point,” or even humour him: “Absolutely, you’ve cracked it again.” You’re not agreeing because he’s right — you’re choosing not to fuel the argument. And over time, without the reaction he craves, he might just get bored and move on.
How This Applies to Imposter Syndrome
Imposter Syndrome works in a similar way. It shows up and invites you into a familiar dance of overthinking, doubting, catastrophising, or avoiding. The more you wrestle with it — the more you try to argue your way out or silence it — the more power it seems to have.
But when you change your response — when you stop feeding the argument — something starts to shift.
This doesn’t mean liking Imposter Syndrome or resigning yourself to it forever. It means taking a more pragmatic, flexible approach. If your efforts to get rid of it haven’t worked, maybe it’s time to stop trying to win the argument, and instead start focusing on the parts of your life that matter — your work, your relationships, your goals.
Imposter Syndrome might still be there, sitting beside you like that awkward guest at the table. But that doesn’t mean it gets to run the show.
Further Reading & Resources:
You might enjoy this short video by Joe Oliver, which beautifully captures the “unwanted guest” metaphor used in Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT):
Watch here →