We’re All Imposters

W

Imposter Syndrome seems to be something that we all feel. Are we all faking it? Or are we overly worried about how we are perceived?

Early on in my marketing career, I was given a free pass to a marketing seminar focused on the mental aspect of being an online marketer.

I met many successful people who had already built businesses or were crushing it in their careers. Or so I thought.


I felt like an imposter. I was just a guy given a free pass. Why was I even allowed in the event? Apparently, I was not alone in that feeling. Almost everyone in the group felt like imposters. How odd, I thought.

I was rooming with an older man who was a leader of men. Seriously. He had a group of men that followed him and looked to him for guidance. He was loved and respected.

Yet, he was scared that one day these men would discover that he was an imposter, a lie, a fake. This was mindboggling to me.

But I heard this over and over again throughout the event. It’s only become worse, and now we have a name for it: Imposter Syndrome.

If we are all imposters, then who is real? I’ve learned that we all think that we need more degrees, more money, and more knowledge before we feel competent enough.

But where’s that line? What’s good enough? I’ve met individuals with multiple degrees who still feel like imposters. It’s stupid. Once I learned that it’s so common, I stopped letting it worry me at all.

How about we all come out as imposters and move on. Put out your art, your writing, your poetry, your music, your dance, and keep improving.

I’ll go first.

Hi! My name is Teevee, and I’m an imposter.

About the author

Teevee Aguirre

Teevee Aguirre is a storyteller, artist, and podcasting dad on a mission to become a better ancestor. He writes about life, fatherhood, and the beautifully messy journey of personal growth—wins, losses, and everything in between. A firm believer that struggle makes the best stories, he embraces his role as Father, Son, Super Model—not on the runway, but in the art of being a role model (a title his kids may or may not co-sign).

By Teevee Aguirre