Imposter Syndrome Got Louder—But It Didn’t Win

What I learned when my audience shrank…

The other day, I was walking my dog when this quiet but clear realization hit me: I’m an author. Not “trying to be.” Not “hoping to become one day.” I just am.

It sounds obvious when I say it now, but in that moment, it stopped me. I’ve been writing for most of my life. I’ve been blogging for over five years. At one point, I had over 60,000 monthly readers—people reading my words, connecting with my stories, sharing my content. It felt like I had momentum, purpose, and confirmation that I was on the right path.

But somewhere along the way, I started to worry. I had this fear that I’d lose my audience. That people would stop reading, or that I’d say the wrong thing, or fall off track somehow. And honestly? That fear slowly became reality. My numbers dropped. The engagement shifted. The growth I once had plateaued.

And that’s when imposter syndrome—something I’ve struggled with for years—got even louder.

It wasn’t new. It had always been in the background, whispering that maybe I wasn’t good enough or that I was just getting lucky. But losing my audience gave that voice more room to speak. I found myself questioning everything: Am I still relevant? Was that the peak? Do I really have what it takes to finish this book—or even call myself a writer?

The truth is, I was tying a lot of my identity to being seen. I hadn’t realized how much I was relying on validation to feel confident. When that validation faded, I had to face what was underneath.

And what was underneath surprised me.

I’m still writing. I’m still thinking, dreaming, showing up, and putting in the work. I haven’t stopped because the numbers changed. I haven’t lost the heart that started it all. What I’ve lost in reach, I’ve gained in clarity. I can see now that being a writer isn’t about being “discovered” or staying in the algorithm’s good graces. It’s about being faithful to the work even when it’s quiet.

If you’ve ever felt like an imposter—especially while actively showing up and doing the thing—you’re not alone. I’ve been there. I’m still there sometimes. But if you’ve been doing something for years, investing time, energy, and consistency—you’re not pretending. You’re becoming.

We just forget how talented we are when we’ve been standing in the middle of our gift for so long.

So, if you’re creating something, especially when no one’s clapping—keep going. If you’re writing a book, building a business, or starting again with a smaller audience than you had before, don’t let that shake your identity. You’re still who you were. Maybe even more.

Remember:

• You are not the metrics. You are the meaning behind the message.
• You are not invisible. You are being refined in quiet.
• You are not behind. You are growing beneath the surface.
• You are not weak for wanting to quit. You are powerful for not doing it.
• You are not a fraud. You are consistent. Present. Here.
• You are not forgotten. You are found in the stillness.

Imposter syndrome doesn’t get the final say. It just tries to talk louder when your confidence is quiet. But now I know how to listen differently. I hope you can too.