Case Study: Are You Underqualified or Just Overresponsible?
Imposter syndrome doesn’t always show up alone – it often comes with “friends,” like perfectionism and over-responsibility (also known as “eldest daughter syndrome”). When we take on too much responsibility and want to do so perfectly, then it’s only natural to start feeling like we’re overplaying our hand.
It’s not actually a sign that you’re incompetent or underqualified though – it’s a sign that you’re trying to be responsible for things that were never meant to be your job. My client, who asked to be referred to as Jane in this case study, explored this issue in a pair of sessions, and showed us that when you stop trying to be all things to all people and find the right amount of responsibility, confidence comes much more easily.
Intimidating responsibilities
Jane is a tai chi enthusiast and was considering going part-time at her job and opening her own tai chi studio. As she thought about it, though, she started to feel nervous about her qualifications. She was also worried about how to help a friend who was working through some trauma. So we set in to work on her imposter syndrome-like feelings about helping people.
Feeling small
As we focused on the nervousness, she felt the desire to physically pull back, as if to avoid this intimidating opportunity. But then, she noticed something else. It felt like something wise was telling her “it’s not all up to you.”
This was a reassuring thought, but in comparison with this outside force, Jane felt small and overwhelmed.
Different people will have different interpretations of what this wise something was. I don’t tell my clients what to believe, but I did have an important discernment to make in this situation: was Jane feeling artificially small or was she feeling the genuine smallness of being a tiny human in a vast universe?
Often, clients who feel small and overwhelmed are feeling artificially small because they’re stuck in a small perspective, the perspective of just one part of themselves. Parts work is helpful in those cases. But in this case, Jane wasn’t experiencing the telltale signs of being stuck in a part’s perspective, like feeling tense and conflicted. Instead, I sensed that she was in touch with her actual limitations as a “mere mortal.”
So I simply asked Jane if it was okay to be small.
Being the right size
As she paused to check what being small felt like in that moment, she realized that there wasn’t actually anything wrong with it.
“It’s okay to be small. It’s right to be small,” she said.
She realized that by accepting her smallness in the universe, she could let everyone else do their part, instead of taking on too much responsibility. She felt relieved, happy, and at peace. But not only did she feel better – she also saw answers to the questions she came in with.
How should she help her friend who’s working through trauma? She saw clearly now that she could be a supportive listener, but not a healer.
Should she open a tai chi studio? She realized she could start with the simple step of talking to people who have already opened tai chi studios.
Self vs skills
Jane didn’t just get clarity on what to do, but also on where she stood: “I didn’t have to be that hard on myself.” She disentangled her self from her skills. For instance, she saw that her inability to heal her friend’s trauma wasn’t about her being deficient as a person, but simply because she didn’t have that training.
She noticed that this distinction between self and skills made it easier for her to be objective about her skill level. This is why I don’t worry about whether my clients with imposter syndrome “really are imposters.” Authentic confidence won’t make them arrogant – it will actually help them identify what they don’t know.
However, she had one worry left: what if people with significant trauma come to her tai chi classes? We made a note to return to this issue in the next session.
A mysterious image
At our next session, she felt nervousness and the desire to pull back again, in connection to two issues: how to deal with trauma in her tai chi classes, and whether to take a certain personal development class.
As I guided her to focus on the nervousness, she started to see a green ball in her mind’s eye. The ball started to roll, and it picked up fabric as it rolled.
If I simply asked “what do you think that represents?” it might invite her conscious mind to guess the meaning, instead of letting her subconscious mind tell us the meaning. So instead, I used Aletheia Process Work, and asked her to try to take the perspective of the ball.
From hesitant to adventurous
When she took the ball’s perspective, she noticed that it felt like it was rolling towards a “free, open horizon” full of good possibilities. This attitude towards the unknown is a far cry from the hesitancy that she felt just a few minutes before!
Then she noticed that the material wrapped around the ball was important somehow, needed. As the ball, she felt it billowing behind her like a cape, helping her fly.
Finally, an interpretation came to her organically: people will come to her tai chi class because they have something to work through. Just as she can’t remove the material from this flying ball, she can’t expect to have issue-free tai chi students.
Participating in something grand
This put her role as a tai chi instructor in a new light: “I’m not just teaching a set of movements.”
The first way she tried putting her true role is “I’m teaching people how to be people.” But she quickly shot that down. “I’m not qualified to do that!”
As we continued to explore, she realized that although she is participating in something grand – personal development – she is not in control of it. She’s creating space for people to go through their process of becoming more themselves.
She continued to see the limits of her responsibility and tai chi’s responsibility in people’s lives:
- She would just be one teacher of one tradition offering one class.
- People could take it if it suits them and not take it if it doesn’t.
- They could take what they need from it, and leave what didn’t work for them.
- She doesn’t have to be a person’s only teacher or have all the answers.
I don’t know about you, but this is exactly the kind of teacher I want – one who offers me help, but doesn’t push it on me or try to control my life. This recognition of her limits is itself an important qualification.
Responsibility from within
In all-or-nothing thinking, when we realize we’re not responsible for everything, we swing to “I’m not responsible for anything!” But Jane had stepped out of all-or-nothing thinking, and didn’t make that mistake. She felt a responsibility to be honest and transparent arising organically from the core of her – not coming from outside as a set of regulations imposed on her.
I asked what it felt like and she said it was like a glowing, warming fire – not a raging fire, but one you might warm your hands by.
To be seen or not to be seen
This warming fire seemed to be an inner resource, so I invited her to embody it more fully. But she couldn’t accept the invitation, because the fire felt so different from how she usually sees herself.
This wasn’t a problem – it showed us what was blocking her full confidence, namely a part of her that didn’t feel comfortable owning this inner resource. Using parts work, we found out that this part was working “to make sure you don’t make an ass of yourself!” This part was afraid of letting her be seen, because she might end up feeling ashamed.
Then we found another part in tension with that one. Its job? “To make sure you don’t waste your life, and actually do something of any value!”
This is a classic experience in imposter syndrome: you need to shine, but you can’t risk being seen. Fortunately, parts work is great for inner conflicts like this. Once she met these parts’ emotional needs, they relaxed. The “don’t be seen” part shifted from issuing a blanket rule against being seen to just cautioning her to make sure that she shows up in a way that’s connected to her inner fire of responsibility and transparency.
Confident but not arrogant
Now, she could let herself embody the fire, and she noticed that she felt like showing up “in a very simple, confident but not arrogant way.” She had found a flavor of confidence – in this case, a fiery one.
From here, it felt “actually quite easy” to just let people know what she’s offering and let them take it or leave it. In fact, it felt “regenerative and enriching.” “I’m not gonna run out of authenticity!” It’s so true: authentic confidence doesn’t require the effort that fake confidence does.
She saw an even easier first step at the end of this session than she did at the end of the previous one: she can just offer a couple of classes, and explain the limitations of the class. She found herself “resting in what I have to offer.” She confirmed at our next session that she did start offering these classes and was feeling quite competent.
And the question about the class she was considering taking? She saw from here that she did want to take it, but she had been afraid that she wasn’t up for it. She realized that just as her tai chi students could take what they needed from her classes, she could take what she was ready for from this class and leave the rest.
Overcoming perfectionism from the inside out
The lesson here was a classic one for perfectionism: to shift from “all or nothing” to “something.” Take some responsibility for the well-being of your tai chi students, but not all of it. Help your friend in some way. Learn something from your class. Take some step towards your tai chi studio dream.
But if I had just told Jane to make that shift, it probably would have reinforced the false idea that her feeling of smallness meant that she wasn’t good enough. There was a second lesson for Jane here: that her sense of smallness wasn’t about her missing something, but about the limits of her responsibility.
By the same token, it wasn’t my responsibility to know what lessons Jane needed in these sessions; I didn’t have all the information, and I’m just a fallible human myself. That’s why I work by helping people understand the wisdom coming from inside themselves. Jane was correctly sensing that her responsibility was smaller than she had imagined. My job was to help her hear that message without her conscious mind distorting it into “you aren’t enough.”
If you want someone to tell you what to do, I can’t help you. But if you want someone to help you tease apart your inner wisdom from your nagging fears, my door is open.