Does talking about impostor syndrome make us feel it more?

Impostor syndrome is a curious beast.  Especially when it comes to women’s networking, I’ve found.

(Note: the article I’ve linked to spells it as “imposter”, but I like “impostor” more because it just looks neater.  I might even say “imposter” is an impostor of “impostor”).

During the years I went to them, I couldn’t help noticing that women’s networking meetings have an atmosphere of impostor syndrome that feels baked in.  My conversations with other businesswomen were peppered with fears of being ‘found out’, a reluctance to raise prices anywhere near what a man might charge for the same thing, and worries about saying “no”.

I could relate to a lot of these feelings at the beginning of my self-employment ‘journey’ (for want of a better word).  But I found it surprising that so many of the anxiety-sharers were seasoned businesswomen.  They’d been successfully doing what they did for years, but they talked like they were only just starting out.

(What’s the point in working for yourself, I thought, if years later you’re still worrying about all the same things?  It seemed to indicate that you’d never grow or learn anything about yourself, and that felt depressing).

What also surprised me was the faint whiff of performance that surrounded those meetings.

I don’t think anyone was conscious of this, but it often felt to me like you had to say you felt unconfident, or like a fraud, or that you were afraid to say “no”.  It was a strange rite of passage.  When I admitted, once, that I didn’t have a problem saying “no” to a bad client, or a job I didn’t want to do, I was regarded with a strange mix of curiosity and disdain.  There was almost a sense of OK, so what are you doing here, then?

I’m a Highly Sensitive Person, or an HSP (yes, it’s an actual thing).  Annoyingly, my HSP-ness means I wear other people’s emotions – and the unspoken atmosphere in rooms – for hours after I’ve encountered them.  So the unfortunate side-effect of those meetings was feeling drained and tired from everybody else’s floating insecurities.

It’s the same with writing groups. I avoid those because I’ve noticed how eager people are to talk about how much writing they didn’t get done, or how hard it is to write well.  Or write anything at all, in fact.  I’d come home feeling like I couldn’t write, either, which isn’t at all helpful when you make your actual living as (drum roll, please) a writer.

All this means I can’t help wondering how useful it really is to bond* over our fears and insecurities.

It makes me think we might feel them more.  Or even create them, because we think they’re what we ’should’ feel.  So I wonder if, when I say I hate networking, I’m just trying to protect myself from second-hand impostor syndrome.**

*If businesswomen bond over shared feelings of impostor syndrome, businessmen bond over bluster and bacon sandwiches.  (The latter is essential scoffing fodder at any morning meeting where men are present).   Neither approach appeals to me, if I’m being perfectly honest.

**Actually, on reflection I think I just hate networking.