so, I graduated last week.

In the lead-up to the graduation, I was dreading the whole thing. Friends and family kept asking for the date “We need to make sure we’re free,” “Get us a slot” “I want to come.”
And all I kept saying was, “I don’t want to go, it’s too cold.” I even purposely missed the deadline to purchase tickets and confirm my attendance. Truth is, there was something uncomfortable happening. I didn’t really believe I deserved this or that I had actually done it, despite acing the course.

It was my niece Reema who snapped me out of it. Puppy eyes, sad face and lil’ guilt.
“But you promised you’d take me to your graduation.”
A promise I didn’t remember making.
Damn, Sumeya, I said to myself, you need to start writing down the promises you make.

If I’m honest, I was never really the “school smart” kid. For me, school was just… a bit of fun. Unlike the stereotypical African household, my parents were pretty laid back with my education. My mum encouraged me to go to art school—“do the thing you love,” she’d say. “You should sell your art pieces.” But for me, art was my personal expression, not exactly something I wanted to monetise on, So, naturally, I rebelled against my mum’s dreams .

When I decided to pursue a Master’s in Psychodynamic Psychotherapy, eyebrows were raised. Do you even have a bachelor’s? I mean, even I was surprised that I’d taken an academic path, and psychodynamic out of all modalities? Freud? really?

And there I was, graduating—the official stamp of approval. But still, the imposter syndrome had never hit me harder. I’ve been doing this work for a few years now, and with over seven years experience of 1:1 support—yet this lingering whisper of imposter felt louder than it should. I guess it had always been there: hovering, lingering, tickling often coming out in awkward bursts of giggles and only a few might notice, (or at least, that’s what I believed)

But this time, it wasn’t whispering anymore.
It was out to play.

Imposter isn’t always the quietest in the room, sometimes it’s the loudest, the confident, the big laugh and the life of the party!

So what is the imposter?

It’s that self doubting experience , mine whispers “you’re not really qualified, you’re so stupid, you don’t fit in here”

Classic Imposter Lines include:

“I’m not good enough.”
“I don’t belong here.”
“Everyone else is XYZ than me.”
“I just got lucky.”
“If they knew the real me, they’d see I don’t belong.”

Work / Achievement Specific :

“I’m not ready for this.”
“I shouldn’t be leading this project.”
“I only got this because of a fluke, not my skill.”
“I’m probably overreacting, this isn’t a big deal.”

Emotional / anxious undertones

“What if I fail?”
“Everyone will figure out I’m a fraud.”
“I don’t deserve compliments.”

This could happen, if you’re taking a leap into something new, in times of change or transition, perhaps a promotion, maybe returning back to work after a break, or stepping into a role that asks for more (or less) of you.

Remember: the imposter is only part of the picture. Often, it’s anxiety wearing the imposter coat. What does your imposter coat look like? is it tight? loose? loud? camouflage? colourful, fluffy? chunky? invisible? What’s your story?

Mine was loud, all black. Sleek with a wide fit silhouette that screamed ‘I’ve got my shit together’. Can’t forget the touch of colour on a printed scarf showing my roots. A cultural root I don’t always feel connected to. Hmm… something is happening here. Do you see the parallel? the incongruence?

When you approach it with love and curiosity, you start to see it for what it is.

so… get curious: notice the thoughts, observe the self-doubting experiences. Observe the way you carry yourself, What are you telling yourself? What parts of these are true? and which need to be gently challenged? how can balance and gentleness guide you?

I’m not saying ignore the anxiety, we give it space to be heard but we can also respond with tenderness. The opposite of imposter isn’t being perfectly perfect (whatever perfection even means) besides, whatever your profession, you should have a mandate to grow and learn, and sometimes that includes self-reflection, even when the reflection isn’t so pretty. Sitting with imposter includes the discomfort of sitting with the unknown.

This feels especially true in therapy.

For me, therapy has always felt more like an art than a science. And while some institutions try to fit it neatly into a box, its roots are philosophical, the study of the psyche is and will always include the study of the soul. (Oh and mystery of the soul)

For therapists, the work we do is quietly ambiguous. Sometimes there isn’t a “right” answer. Therapy is experiential and relational, a way of being rather than a technical skill, and every client is different.

Psychotherapy is an art: listening, feeling, witnessing and holding.

What a privilege it is to be in a sector where we are constantly required to face ourselves—to look in the mirror, and to hold the mirror for others.

Imposter aside, graduating with my cohort was a genuine pleasure. I connected with people I probably would have never crossed paths with if it weren’t for this journey. It was diverse, inclusive, and expansive. Our tutors encouraged us to bring ourselves into the work, and the experientials were… well, experiential.

I hope I can continue to lean into some of that self-doubt, get to know it a little. Who knows what i might discover? I invite you to do the same… if you want. No pressure.

Graduating with an imposters award!

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