I suffer from impostor syndrome, and success only makes it worse

A few years ago, while travelling through Japan, I came across a wishing tree – thousands of wooden votives hanging on a wall built around the trunk of a lush green camphor. Located in the tranquil surroundings of Meiji Jingu shrine in Tokyo, the wishing tree provides a sacred place for visitors to write prayers, wishes or messages of gratitude on an ema (votive tablet) and hang them on the wall. The ema are then offered to the deities by the Shinto priests the next morning.

As I stood at the foot of the tree’s sturdy trunk and read through the hopes and desires of strangers from around the world, one votive, handwritten in a shaky cursive font, stopped me in my tracks. It said: “I wish for more self-confidence.”

The wishing tree at the Meiji Jingu shrine in Tokyo.Credit: Christine Newell

Of all the things this person could have wished for, the most obvious being happiness, good health, wealth or love, they wanted more than anything to feel comfortable in their own skin. This humble yearning struck me to the core. I wanted to wrap my arms around this stranger and tell them that they weren’t alone. That I knew how they felt.

A lack of self-confidence is something I’ve battled for as long as I can remember. It manifested in primary school when I was bullied in the playground and worsened through puberty when I failed to develop the womanly curves of my peers. Over the years it has been fuelled by insecurities associated with my father’s chronic illness, harsh comments from ballet teachers and overly critical boyfriends.

It surprises me, but despite all this, I pursued a career in musical theatre – an extroverted industry where confidence is the name of the game. I doubted myself constantly and attributed all of my successes to luck or timing – anything other than talent. I lived in fear of being outed as a fraud.

It took me years to realise that these doubts and fears were feelings associated with impostor phenomenon, a term coined in 1978 by psychologists Dr Pauline Clance and Dr Suzanne Imes. Commonly referred to as “impostor syndrome”, it is when a person believes their success to be the result of luck or other external factors, rather than talent or ability. People with these feelings suffer from low self-confidence and downplay their achievements because they feel they are undeserving.

Author Christine Newell has tackled the problem of impostor syndrome.Credit: Ksenia Belova photography

Results of a systematic review published in the Journal of General Internal Medicine in 2020 suggest that up to 82 per cent of people experience “impostor” feelings and most believe these are unique to them. However, the syndrome is not officially recognised as a psychiatric disorder in the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders and no single agreed-upon scientific definition exists. So how do we know if these feelings of inadequacy are impostor phenomenon or just a normal amount of self-doubt?

Clance and Imes argue that those who suffer from impostor phenomenon experience intense feelings of fear and doubt that interfere with their daily functioning and often lead to anxiety, depression and a sense of helplessness. They also state that these feelings are not cured by success – something I can attest to, and is further evidenced by the number of award-winning celebrities who have admitted to feeling like a fraud – Tom Hanks, Kate Winslet, Lady Gaga, Meryl Streep and Lupita Nyong’o to name a few. In an interview with People in 2024, Nyong’o said that winning an Oscar “definitely put the pressure on” and made her more afraid of failure.

My feelings of impostor syndrome intensified at what was, in hindsight, the turning point of my career. After years of auditions, I was cast in my first professional musical alongside some of the most talented performers I had ever met. You would think that this would have been enough to silence the voices in my head telling me I wasn’t good enough, but the initial excitement and sense of validation faded as the darkest corners of my mind found every possible reason, other than talent and hard work, to explain how I had won the role. I convinced myself that I got the gig because all other potential candidates were sick that day, everyone felt sorry for me, or I had somehow managed to trick everyone into thinking I was capable.

This crisis of confidence led to me reaching breaking point a few years later when I was living and performing in South Korea. I had always dreamt of working overseas, but my persistent self-doubt left me feeling paralysed and nearly put me on a plane back home.

At its worst, my self-doubt hits me like a wrecking ball, often when I least expect it. Over the years it has robbed me of joy, made it difficult for me to take pride in my achievements, been the catalyst for anxiety and depression, and made me feel alone.

This sense of isolation is one of the reasons I became a writer. In my darkest moments, what helped me the most was reading stories about other people who had been through something similar. So I decided to write about my own experience with the hope of encouraging others to do the same.

Developmental psychologist and author Robert Atkinson also advocates sharing our stories to help “show us that we have more in common with others than we thought”.

It might not make the impostor-type feelings go away, but it normalises what we are going through and creates opportunities for connection and healing. If you feel like impostor syndrome is holding you back, don’t be afraid to confide in a friend or trusted colleague. Once you start the conversation you will realise how many others, including people you look up to, suffer from the same negative beliefs.

If you don’t feel comfortable talking to someone you know, seek out a health professional that you can be open with. It’s also important to remember that our feelings don’t always reflect reality. Just because we feel a certain way doesn’t make it true.

Rising above my own lack of self-confidence has taken a combination of counselling, meditation, self-compassion and reflection, but writing and sharing my story has been paramount to helping me move forward. And when it feels like I am being swallowed by my fear and self-doubt, I remember my day at Meiji Jingu and how the heartfelt wish of a total stranger helped me feel less alone. I hope to do the same for others in return.

Christine Newell is a Melbourne-based author and performer. Her debut memoir, Five Seasons in Seoul, is published by Affirm Press.

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