The Promotion That Scared Her More Than Excited Her
When success triggers imposter syndrome instead of celebration
Hi friends,
Sarah met me on a Thursday afternoon, and I could hear the panic in her voice before she even said hello.
"I got the promotion," she said, and I expected to hear excitement. Instead, there was this heavy silence.
"That's wonderful," I said. "You've been working toward this for months."
"I know I should be happy," she replied. "But I'm terrified. What if they find out I don't actually know what I'm doing? What if I fail and everyone realizes they made a mistake?"
Sarah had just achieved something she'd been dreaming about for over a year. But instead of celebrating, she was spiraling into what I see so often with high-achieving women: success-induced imposter syndrome.
When achievement triggers anxiety
Sarah's reaction isn't unusual. Sometimes the things we work hardest for become the most terrifying when we actually get them. Because now there's something to lose. Now there are expectations to live up to. Now everyone is watching to see if we can actually handle what we asked for.
"In my old role, I knew I was good at my job," Sarah explained. "But this new position... I feel like I'm starting over. Like I'm going to be exposed as someone who doesn't belong at this level."
This is the cruel irony of imposter syndrome: the more successful you become, the more opportunities it has to convince you that you're fooling everyone.
Sarah had been promoted because of her track record, her innovative ideas, and her leadership potential. But all she could focus on were the skills she didn't have yet, the experience she was still building, the ways she might not measure up to expectations.
The story imposter syndrome tells
Imposter syndrome is sneaky. It doesn't say "You're terrible at everything." It says "You're good at what you've already done, but this new thing? This is where everyone will realize you don't belong."
It takes your promotion and reframes it as a mistake. It takes other people's confidence in your abilities and suggests they must not know the real you. It takes your excitement about growth and turns it into fear about failure.
"I keep thinking they must have mixed up my application with someone else's," Sarah told me. "Like, surely they meant to promote the other Sarah who actually knows what she's doing."
The question that shifted everything
I asked Sarah something that stopped her overthinking in its tracks: "What would you tell your best friend if she got this same promotion and was having these same fears?"
Without hesitation, she said: "I'd tell her she earned it. That they promoted her because they saw her potential. That it's normal to feel scared about new challenges but that doesn't mean she can't handle them."
"So why," I asked, "is the advice different when it's you?"
That question sat between us for a long moment. Because Sarah could see everyone else's qualifications clearly, but when it came to her own, she could only see the gaps.
The mindset shift that changes everything
We started working on reframing Sarah's relationship with not knowing everything. Instead of seeing her learning curve as evidence that she didn't deserve the promotion, what if it was just... normal?
"You weren't promoted because you already knew how to do this job," I pointed out. "You were promoted because they believe you can learn how to do it."
Sarah had been treating her new role like a test she had to pass perfectly from day one. But promotions aren't about already being perfect—they're about having the foundation to grow into something new.
This reminds me of what I wrote about in my piece on perfectionism versus being a perfectionist—there's a difference between valuing excellence and needing to know everything before you start.
"What if," I suggested, "instead of trying to prove you belong, you focused on becoming the person who belongs?"
The practice that's building confidence
Sarah started doing something that felt revolutionary to her: she began asking questions instead of pretending she knew everything.
In her first week, instead of nodding along in meetings where she didn't understand the context, she said, "I'm new to this area—can you help me understand the background here?"
Instead of staying late trying to figure everything out on her own, she scheduled check-ins with her manager to get clarity on priorities.
Instead of treating her learning process like a shameful secret, she started talking about it openly: "I'm still getting up to speed on this, but here's my initial thinking..."
The result? People respected her honesty and her commitment to doing the job well, not just appearing like she already could.
What I'm seeing in my practice
Sarah's story reminds me of so many women I work with who achieve something they've wanted and then immediately start questioning whether they deserve it.
The business owner who gets her first big client and panics about whether she can deliver. The woman who gets accepted to graduate school and wonders if admissions made an error. The professional who gets invited to speak at a conference and assumes they must be desperate for speakers.
We've been taught that competence means knowing everything already. But real competence is being willing to learn what you don't know yet.
What I'm curious about
Have you ever achieved something you wanted and then been surprised by your own fear instead of celebration? Do you find yourself questioning whether you deserve opportunities even after you've earned them?
Hit reply and tell me. I think there are a lot of us who've been taught that confidence means never admitting you're still learning, when actually confidence might be about learning openly.
What if the thing that qualifies you for new opportunities isn't already being perfect, but being willing to grow?
Sarah is three months into her new role now, and she's discovering something important: she's actually good at this. Not because she knew everything from day one, but because she's been willing to ask questions, learn quickly, and adapt.
Her imposter syndrome still shows up sometimes, but now she recognizes it for what it is: fear trying to keep her small, not truth about her capabilities.
You belong in the rooms you're invited into. You deserve the opportunities you've worked for. And not knowing everything yet doesn't disqualify you—it just means you're human.
Talk to you soon,
Mary
