I’ve felt like an imposter many times before, but it wasn’t until nurse practitioner school that I finally had a name for it—words that made sense of years of quiet doubt. It was during my first semester of nurse practitioner school, when I began attending clinical placement. I had been a registered nurse for nearly a decade—experienced, capable, and confident in my role. But stepping into the nurse practitioner program suddenly made all that feel irrelevant. I would catch myself thinking “I have no idea what I’m doing”— and the thought of becoming a fully autonomous medical professional, responsible for “calling the shots” seemed terrifying, and quite frankly impossible. I had myself convinced that I didn’t have it in me to do the job, that I wasn’t good enough. 

I subsequently booked a meeting with the Dean of our program to address my concerns. Within the first few minutes of the call the Dean stopped me and said, “Katelyn, imposter syndrome is normal.” It was the first time someone put a name to what I was feeling. She went on to elaborate and share that it is frequently experienced in the context of new learning and transitioning to a new role or new profession. I recall sharing that as I read my peers’ discussion posts online, I would think to myself, “Wow, they sound so professional and knowledgeable. How do they have so much confidence?” The Dean reminded me that those interactions are prepared in advanced, researched and highly edited and are not necessarily a reflection of the individual’s competency (although, this may also be true). She strongly recommended that I try not to compare myself to others, since learning really is an individual journey. It is a similar experience with social media, with the curated nature of social media feeds becoming our inner critic—convincing us that others are effortlessly succeeding while we’re barely keeping up. But like academic discussion posts, most of what we see is edited, polished, and incomplete; representing only a small sliver of a person’s life. I am very grateful for that phone call three years ago, as it has made a lasting impact—not only for the duration of my nurse practitioner training, but until this very day. 

It is only recently that Sugar & Dice Design Co. was born, and on almost a daily basis I have moments of doubt and question if I can bring my vision to life. As I invest more of myself, my time and even financially invest in this venture, the fears and anxiety of the unknown, of the possibility of failure creep up in my mind. I find myself back in the imposter mindset—I’m not a businesswoman, a marketer or website guru—what business do I have trying to make a go at a dream that is such a big departure from my roots? 

With so much of what I am currently doing being inspired by Taylor Swift, it wasn’t long before I started reflecting and wondering how many times Taylor questioned her dream. I go back to my first blog post where I talked about seeing Taylor for the first time on Ellen DeGeneres. What struck me beyond her musical talent was her confidence. At 18-years-old she was on one of the most popular daytime talk shows at the time, sharing her story and music with the world. She told the story of cold calling radio stations at age eleven and securing a songwriter job at age fourteen. So, this begs the question, was Taylor immune to imposter syndrome? 

And then I think back to the Miss Americana documentary, where we were shown an emotionally raw and defeated version of Taylor. We saw her pain navigating the music industry at a time when they had turned their back on her. It just goes to show that even the most famous and influential people can begin to question themselves. And when you step back and reflect on Taylor’s career and the lyrics she has written, you soon realize that even if Taylor exudes confidence while performing, walking a red carpet or conducting interviews, her songs clearly share narratives of struggles, of self-doubt, of feeling inferior or undeserving. So, the answer to my earlier question? Well, I’ll leave that to you to make your own conclusions.  

The point of this discussion wasn’t to critique Taylor, rather highlight that even the most seemingly confident and successful people can be dealing with their own internal battles that we simply don’t get to see. And I think it is a beautiful thing that Taylor has been able to evolve as an artist over the span of her 18-year career, embracing vulnerability and taking control of her own narrative—sharing the uncomfortable, the insecurities, the pain; along with periods in her life when she has felt love and joy.