There is a voice that can be very convincing.
It says:
Who do you think you are?
Are you sure you're qualified?
You don't have enough experience.
You don't know enough.
Maybe you should wait.
Maybe you're not ready.
You don’t have capacity for this.
This voice sometimes sounds reasonable. It keeps you humble and sounds like you’re doing your best to be professional and integral. It might even sound like you’re just waiting for the right time to make sure that you’re doing things right. I’ve learned that this voice isn’t actually a voice of reason or wisdom. Instead it’s fear talking where imposter syndrome has empowered it to overstep. I’ve learned that every time you honor the fear, you give it a louder voice.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve had to wrestle with this question after almost talking myself out of Rooted & Informed: “who said it shouldn’t be you?”. I had to go back to the drawing board of my “why” to remind myself that the way is bigger than my feelings and my feelings cant trump the agenda. I was reminded that since entering this field, I have always had a passion for learning, seeing the gaps in the culture and processing ways to close them for others in the same position. I think about what I've learned, what I wish I had known sooner, what could have gone differently, and what might make someone else's journey a little easier.
Those reflections eventually became the foundation for Rooted & Informed, but somewhere between having the idea and actually building it, the questions started and the facts of who I am, and where I am fed the fear like a ferocious fire.
- I'm barely 30.
- I don't have enough tenure.
- There are social workers who have been doing this much longer than I have.
- There are people who know more than me.
- I'm still developing my own clinical skillset.
- I'm not where I want to be professionally.
- I'm not where I want to be financially.
And then came the questions that really got me: "how can I give insight about this career when I'm still figuring it out myself? Who would listen to me and take me seriously?" I could feel myself shrinking the vision before I had even given it a chance. I almost let the fact that I hadn't "arrived" convince me that I shouldn't begin.
While processing this in my own therapy, my therapist asked me a question that felt like a brick hitting me in my chest as I talked about my fears and my uncertainty. I even talked about how uncomfortable it felt to put myself out there and create something that would inevitably invite people to have opinions about my knowledge, my experience, and my credibility. At some point, I told my therapist that maybe I had simply decided I needed the audacity to do things that were outside of my comfort zone.
And she paused for a moment and said "are you creating from your own experience”. I said “yes”. She then said “it doesn’t sound like you’re pretending to know something or be someone that you don’t know and that you aren’t, and you’re sharing from your experience. As you continue to learn and grow, you’ll continue to share from that experience too.” And suddenly, the argument imposter syndrome became quiet and the weight lifted from my chest because I knew she was right.
I wasn't pretending to be someone I wasn't. I wasn't claiming to know everything about social work. I wasn't presenting myself as the ultimate authority on the profession. I wasn't saying I had reached the highest level of clinical expertise and had nothing left to learn. I was creating from what I have experienced, from what I have learned, from what I continue to observe in practice, and from the questions I continue to ask. I create from the things I wish someone had given me along the way, and it's okay if I continue to learn and still have something to offer.
Before now, the imposter syndrome has kept me moving and it's been a significant part of my life. I've realized that it doesn't always make me stop but while I go through the mental gymnastics and over analyze everything, it makes me move constantly. It’s made me show up in the world as always working on something, always learning, always trying to improve and always looking for the next thing that would finally make me feel competent enough. From the outside, that can look like ambition, which it partly is. But I've had to ask myself whether there are moments when my ambition is carrying something underneath it; the question of "maybe if I accomplish one more thing, I'll finally feel like I'm enough."
That's a difficult realization.
Because wanting to grow is healthy. Wanting to become a better clinician is healthy. But there is a difference between growing because you are curious and constantly striving because you are trying to prove that you belong. Imposter syndrome can turn professional development into a never-ending audition where the goal post keeps moving.
You get the degree. But you need more experience.
You get the license. You need another certification.
You gain experience. But someone else has more.
You accomplish something significant. And you immediately notice everything you haven't accomplished yet.
At what point are we allowed to say, “I am still growing, and I am also capable?”. The place of preparing to feel capable and competent can become a very comfortable place to live. And eventually, preparation becomes a way of avoiding being seen.
Social Workers Know This Feeling
I think imposter syndrome is particularly complicated in social work because we care deeply about being competent. We work with people during some of the most vulnerable moments of their lives. But somewhere along the way, the desire to be competent can become the belief that we must be perfect, and the two are not synonymous with one another.
Graduate school gives us a foundation. It teaches us theories, ethics, assessment, intervention models, and the basics of the profession. But the work teaches us things a classroom can't fully replicate. The work teaches us how complicated people are. It teaches us how often a textbook answer doesn't fit neatly into a real person's life, it teaches us to tolerate uncertainty, and it teaches us to recognize our blind spots. It teaches us that sometimes the most important thing we can do is sit with someone when we don't have an immediate answer. We continue learning because practice requires it, and saying, "I still have more to learn" should not be evidence that we aren't qualified. It should be evidence that we understand what professional growth actually is.
And Then There's the Expectation That Social Workers Should Have It All Together
This is one I've wrestled with personally. I've asked myself: “how can I help other people navigate their stuff when I have my own stuff going on?” But why do we assume those things are mutually exclusive? Why do we expect social workers to be somehow exempt from being human? There is this strange expectation that because we are therapists, clinicians, or social workers, we should always be emotionally regulated. Sometimes life happens and we’ll hear "but aren't you a therapist?"
- As if being a therapist means you don't experience anxiety.
- As if being a social worker means you don't have difficult relationships.
- As if understanding grief means you don't grieve.
- As if knowing how to regulate your emotions means you never become overwhelmed.
- As if sitting in a therapy room means your own life suddenly becomes a place where you have complete control.
It doesn't
The therapy room and our lives are not the same thing. In the therapy room, we have a role, we have boundaries and training. We have supervision and consultation, continuing education to assist with how to hold space for someone else. When we leave the field, we return to our own lives and humanity.
We are still people. We still experience disappointment. We still make mistakes. We still have things to work through. We still need support. We still need therapy. We still have days when we don't feel particularly wise, regulated, or put together. None of that makes us fraudulent.
Being Well-Contained Doesn't Mean Being Untouched. Containment is an important clinical skill, but being well-contained in a therapy room does not mean being emotionally untouched in your own life. It is possible to have grounding techniques and still have a difficult day. It is still possible to teach boundaries while still struggling to set one with people in your own life. You can know grounding techniques and still have a difficult day. You can understand trauma and still have your own reactions. You can help someone navigate a difficult season while navigating one of your own.
We have to stop treating the struggle like a professional requirement, and stop normalizing everything else that comes with it. This is another piece of this conversation that I think deserves attention. Social work has a history of asking people to tolerate a lot, which fuels the fire of imposter syndrome too. There are heavy caseloads, low compensation, limited resources and burnout. Oftentimes those who we go for wisdom and supervision encourage us to settle because of their own scarcity mindset. Sometimes there is an inherited mindset that says: "we had to struggle to make it, so you should have to struggle too", not realizing that times have changed, the profession has changed and the understanding of wellness has changed. This generation of social workers is finally asking different questions.
- Why does suffering have to be the price of becoming competent?
- Why should exhaustion be proof of commitment?
- Why should having inadequate support be considered a rite of passage?
- Why should social workers accept the bare minimum simply because people before us did?
- Why should my competence be dependent on my ability to endure unrealistic and unsustainable working conditions?
- Why do I have to prove my competence and tenure to have a livable salary?
Wanting something better does not mean we are entitled and it doesn’t mean we aren't resilient. And wanting to be compensated fairly doesn’t mean we care less about the work.
Imposter Syndrome Doesn't Just Make Us Feel Insecure
This is the part I think we don't talk about enough. It doesn’t just live in our thoughts. It can affect what we are willing to do. It can keep a social worker from applying for a position they are qualified for. It can keep someone from speaking in a meeting. It can keep someone from submitting the conference proposal, from writing the article, from starting private practice, or from applying for the leadership role. It can even keep someone from calling themselves an expert in an area where they genuinely have expertise and from taking up space. And eventually, self-doubt can become self-erasure, not because we don't have something to contribute, but because we've convinced ourselves that contribution requires certainty and more.
Rooted & Informed has pushed me to think about imposter syndrome differently. I don't think the answer is to convince ourselves that we are secretly perfect. There is a difference between acknowledging where we still need to grow and disqualifying ourselves from contributing.
The Audacity to Begin
I told my therapist that maybe I needed the audacity to do things that scare me. I've been thinking about that word ever since. Audacity doesn't mean arrogance and it doesn't mean pretending to know what you don't know. It doesn't mean taking up space that isn't yours. For me, audacity means being willing allow myself to contribute from where I am instead of waiting until I've arrived at some imaginary version of myself who finally knows enough. It means being honest about what I know and being honest about what I don't know. It means remaining teachable, continuing to learn and still beginning.
Rooted in Experience. Informed by Practice.
Maybe this is why the words Rooted & Informed mean something different to me now. To be rooted is to recognize that our experiences matter, and both can be true where we can be rooted in experience while remaining informed by practice.
What have you been postponing because you convinced yourself you weren't ready, experienced enough, qualified enough, or "there" enough yet? And if you silenced that voice for just a moment, what would you finally give yourself permission to begin?
Sincerely, Daniela
