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1 hour. That’s how long I waited before deleting my first LinkedIn carousel.

No comments. Barely any engagement. So I killed it.

This was 2 years ago. Today, I have over 600,000 followers.

And yet I still re-read every post multiple times before hitting publish.

Still checking for typos. Still wondering if anyone will care.

25 years in business, and I’m still asking: "Is this worth saying?"

Sound familiar?

The truth is, imposter syndrome doesn’t live in just one place.

It shows up everywhere. In board meetings. On social media. In quiet moments before big presentations.

A few years ago, I was sitting in a meeting with 3 CEOs of $1B+ companies.

25 years of experience. Presentations to audiences of 10,000+. And there’s still that moment where I thought, "How did I get here?"

At dinner that evening, I’m chatting with one of the other executives. Somehow we get on the topic of self-doubt.

She leans in and says, "Can I tell you something? When you were presenting earlier, I was thinking ’Everyone here is so much smarter than me.’"

This is a woman who runs a billion-dollar division.

By the end of dinner, all four of us had admitted the same thing. We’d all had that "How did I get here?" moment.

Think about that for a second.

Oprah Winfrey has interviewed over 50,000 people in her career. After every single interview, when the cameras turned off, they all asked her the same thing:

"How did I do?"

Presidents. Nobel laureates. Celebrities. Everyone.

One of my favorite authors, Maya Angelou, wrote 11 books and said: "Each time I think, ’Uh-oh, they’re going to find out now.’"

These aren’t beginners. These are masters of their craft.

And yet the feeling persists.

Look, I know it’s not easy. Whether you’re about to hit "post" on LinkedIn or walk into that boardroom, the feeling is the same.

That tightness in your chest. That voice saying, "Who do you think you are?"

But here’s the thing. That voice is a liar.

I learned this the hard way.

Remember that carousel I deleted? A few weeks later, I posted similar content. It got 46,000 views. The only difference? I left it up long enough to find its audience.

Those 3 hours I waited? Not nearly enough. My anxiety clock and LinkedIn’s algorithm clock run at very different speeds.

Here’s what my business career and LinkedIn journey have taught me: Everyone’s performing confidence while feeling doubt.

In boardrooms, we’re all thinking, "Do I belong here?"

On LinkedIn, we’re all wondering, "Does anyone care?"

At conferences, we’re all asking, "Am I qualified to speak?"

The difference between people who succeed and people who stay stuck isn’t an absence of fear. It’s feeling the fear and continuing anyway.

I’ve developed some strategies that help. (Still perfecting them. Last week, I definitely re-read a post about 5 times. For typos. Sure.)

First, I’ve learned to catch that voice in the act.

When it starts whispering "You don’t belong here," I literally say to myself, "That’s just my inner critic talking." Sounds weird? Maybe. But it works.

The moment you name it, you’re not inside the thought anymore. You’re observing it. And that tiny bit of distance? It gives you a choice.

David Goggins talks about keeping a mental "cookie jar" of personal wins. Your moments of pushing through fear or doubt.

Mine’s more like an Evidence File. Every thank you note. Every piece of positive feedback. Every time I did something that scared me and survived.

When imposter syndrome hits, I pull from it. Not to pump myself up, but to remind myself of reality.

Because imposter syndrome has selective memory. It remembers every stumble but somehow forgets every success.

What else helps? Admitting when I don’t know something. In meetings, I’ll sometimes just say it: "I don’t understand that. Can you explain?"

You’d be amazed how often someone else says, "So glad you spoke up, I didn’t know either."

Turns out, admitting you’re human makes you more credible, not less.

Here’s something that executive dinner taught me:

We’re all walking around assuming everyone else has it figured out. But behind closed doors — or at dinner tables — we’re all asking the same questions.

"Am I good enough?"

"Do I belong here?"

"Will they find out I don’t know everything?"

Yes. Yes. And they already know. Because they don’t know everything either.

I’m curious.

What’s your version of my deleted carousel?

What have you killed too soon?

What room have you been in where you thought you didn’t belong?

More importantly, what are you holding back right now because that voice is telling you it’s not good enough?

Because the people you think have it all figured out? They’re doing the same thing. Re-reading for typos. Wondering if their ideas matter.

The difference is, they stay in the room.

They leave the post up.

They speak anyway.

Tomorrow, I dare you to do something that makes your imposter syndrome flare up.

Don’t wait for confidence. It’s not coming. Wait for courage instead. Just five minutes of it. That’s usually enough.

What will you not delete tomorrow?

Until next time, remember you belong in that room.
Justin

P.S. And next time you’re in a room where you feel like you don’t belong? Look around.

I guarantee at least half the people there are thinking the same thing.

Maybe start a dinner conversation about it. You might be surprised by what you hear.