Quote of the Week

My Sisters,

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This week, we're diving into a deeply human experience that touches many of us, especially those juggling ambition with the added complexity of managing a chronic health challenge, past trauma, or different abilities. We are talking about imposter syndrome, but not just the kind that makes you question your legal brilliance or your professional capability. We’re talking about the silent, double-edged sword of imposter syndrome that shows up when your health is on the line.

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The classic definition of imposter syndrome, coined by psychologists Pauline Rose Clance and Suzanne Imes back in 1978, describes that gnawing feeling of "phoniness" despite clear evidence of high achievement. It’s that constant internal voice whispering, “You’re going to be found out. You aren’t really smart enough, capable enough, or creative enough.” This thinking is often fueled by a demanding perfectionism and an intense fear of rejection or failure, creating a perfect storm of anxiety and stress. We see this acutely in professional fields, particularly among entrepreneurs and those in small firms where the pressure to perform is immense. And yes, people from marginalized backgrounds, including those with chronic health issues, can often feel this negative thinking amplified tenfold because their very presence in professional spaces can feel like a contradiction to societal expectations.

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But for many in our community, the worry goes deeper than just career competence. You might be struggling with a physical or mental health condition—something chronic, fluctuating, or stemming from a past trauma—and suddenly, imposter syndrome takes on a new, more painful dimension. You’re not just worried about faking being a good lawyer; you’re worried about faking being well.

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Imagine the mental gymnastics you perform daily. You manage pain, fatigue, mood fluctuations, or unseen symptoms while simultaneously trying to be the sharp, reliable professional everyone expects. You might fear that your colleagues, clients, or even family will deem your symptoms "not that bad," or that you are simply "too much" to handle. This creates a deeply rooted fear that you are a burden, that your needs invalidate your professional worth, or that your genuine struggles will be dismissed as exaggeration or attention-seeking. You find yourself trapped in a relentless cycle of performing health and performing competence.

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You feel compelled to show up, power through, and hide the very real impact of your condition, because if you don’t, you fear being labeled as unreliable, weak, or, worst of all, a fraud who is exploiting their condition. When you have a good day, you question if the symptoms were ever real. When you have a bad day, you panic that you’ve finally confirmed everyone's suspicions that you aren't up to the job. This isn't just health anxiety; it's an intersectional experience where the fear of professional failure meets the fear of medical dismissal. You are constantly on guard, terrified of being "found out" for either your legitimate health struggles or your legitimate capabilities.

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This brings us to our quote for the week, from a woman who has shattered glass ceilings and navigated complex worlds with grace and wisdom. Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor, who herself has openly spoken about living with type 1 diabetes, once reflected on her journey, sharing a deep, resonant vulnerability.

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Think about that. A Supreme Court Justice, at the pinnacle of legal achievement, admits to feeling this persistent sense of not belonging, this constant fear of not measuring up. It shows us that imposter syndrome, in all its forms, is less about your actual abilities and more about the internal narrative of self-doubt and isolation.

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What Justice Sotomayor’s words should inspire in you is not commiseration, but permission. Permission to acknowledge that the strain you feel is real. Permission to realize that your worth is not dependent on your ability to perpetually hide your struggles.

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To every professional, every individual, who is struggling with a chronic condition, past trauma, or disability—physical, cognitive, or mental—who feels they must constantly prove their illness isn't faked and their achievements aren't luck: You are not a fraud.

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Your accomplishments stand on their own merit, and they are made even more extraordinary by the unseen challenges you navigate every single day. Your value is inherent. It is not something you have to earn by achieving more or by suffering in silence. The energy you spend performing health is energy you could be using to truly excel, or, more importantly, to simply rest and heal.

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This week, I invite you to take a deep breath and challenge that double imposter feeling. Your health reality, whatever it may be, is not a professional liability, and your achievements are not accidents. Stop looking over your shoulder. You do measure up, not despite your circumstances, but precisely because you have persevered and achieved what you have while living with them.

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Be kind to yourself. You are doing more than enough.

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Strive. Rise. Thrive.