I’ve sat in those meetings — you know the ones. The acronyms fly like confetti, the conversations are loaded with shorthand and war stories, and you’re expected to nod along like it’s all obvious. And I’ve done just that: nodded, smiled, all while thinking, ”What the hell are they talking about?” and ”How long until they find out I don’t belong here?”

That, my friend, is imposter syndrome. And if you’ve felt it, you’re not alone. I have too. Many times. In fact, the higher up you go, the more likely you are to feel it. The stakes get higher, the masks get tighter, and the language grows even more coded. It’s not about what you know — it’s about how you relate to the room you’re in.

Imposter syndrome isn’t just about knowledge gaps. It’s the creeping doubt that everyone else belongs here except you. It often comes when you’re doing something new, surrounded by people who seem confident and in control, and you find yourself quietly wondering if you’re the only one playing catch-up. It says things like, “You’re faking it,” or “Soon they’ll figure you out.” It doesn’t matter if you’ve proven yourself, delivered results, or been hired on merit. That voice still finds a way in.

What makes imposter syndrome especially tough is that it isn’t actually about what you know. It’s about how connected you feel. It’s about belonging. You look around and feel like the others share a language, a history, an ease that you haven’t earned. And so you start to believe that you’re the outsider. The only one who doesn’t get it. But you don’t feel like that because you’re inadequate. You feel like that because you’re new.

And here’s where it gets hard: you’re convinced that if you ask questions or speak up, you’ll be exposed. You’ll reveal yourself as the wrong hire, the one who doesn’t belong. So you stay quiet. You try to blend in. But silence doesn’t save you. It only isolates you further.

The truth is, you’re not broken. You’re reacting to a new environment. You’re in a psychological transition. You’ve entered a culture with new vocabulary, unfamiliar assumptions, and unspoken expectations. If you moved to a new country, would you expect to speak fluently on day one? Of course not. This is no different. Business, leadership, and organizations all have their own dialects. It takes time to learn.

And during that time, especially in the first six months of a new job, you ride a rollercoaster. It’s terrifying and exhilarating. Your heart skips beats with each new challenge, and your brain never really shuts off. You fall into bed exhausted, not just from the work, but from the constant emotional question: ”Am I doing this right?” Every meeting feels like a test. Every conversation feels like a performance.

Strangely, though, something happens after a year and a half. Things level out. You know the landscape, the language, and the rhythm. And here’s the irony: part of you will miss that early chaos. You’ll miss the buzz of learning, the high-stakes feeling of finding your place, and yes, even the doubt. Because all of it meant you were growing.

And that’s the danger of staying silent. It buys you time in the short term, but in the long term, it costs you more. It slows your learning. It drags out your onboarding. It keeps you on the outside of relationships that might otherwise have pulled you in. If your manager is worth anything, they expect a learning curve. They don’t want you to be perfect; they want you to get in sync. And if you stay quiet, you not only deprive yourself of support — you deprive the team of your perspective.

When you ask people to explain what they think is obvious, you create clarity. Often, what’s ”obvious” turns out to be habit. And habit isn’t always helpful. Your fresh eyes are valuable. But you need to speak. You need to connect. You need to be seen.

That means being honest. Tell your manager that you’re still finding your footing. Ask for support. In meetings, admit when you’re unfamiliar with a concept. Use humor if that helps. I often say, ”Can you explain the big picture like you would to a five-year-old?” It disarms the moment and opens the door for clarity. Most people appreciate it more than you think.

And because imposter syndrome loves to erase your memory of success, start keeping track. I call it my Win Folder. Save compliments, feedback, victories, anything that reminds you that you’re on the right path. When doubt creeps in, open the folder. It’s your antidote.

And don’t isolate yourself. Ask teams what they do. Ask what they think you should understand about their work. Build friendships. Take walks. Sit down for coffee. When you feel lost, talk to someone who’s been there longer. Don’t ask for a fix — just ask to talk. It’s surprising how much perspective a ten-minute chat can offer.

Here’s the most important thing: you don’t need to become someone else. You just need to become more of who you are — with experience. The anxiety you feel is a signal that you care. The discomfort is a sign that you’re stretching.

So stay in the room. Let people see you. Let them help you. And one day, not so far from now, you’ll be the one offering that same quiet reassurance to someone new.

You belong.