Success Made Your Imposter Syndrome Worse? ‘Don’t Think’ Explains Why

You hit the goal, got the job, reached the milestone…and instead of feeling like that girl, your brain went, “lol who let me in here?” If that sounds familiar, you might be living with imposter syndrome, where every win feels like a clerical error and every compliment comes with an internal “they’ll figure me out eventually.”

On Don’t Think, host Carla Bezanson dives headfirst into the messy, hilarious, slightly-unhinged psychology of feeling like a fraud even when you have the receipts. Whether you’re thriving on paper or spiraling in private, this convo breaks down why imposter syndrome sticks—and how to finally loosen its grip.

Success Made Your Imposter Syndrome Worse? ‘Don’t Think’ Explains Why

Imposter syndrome is a ‘two-prong disease’

Imposter syndrome isn’t just “I feel insecure today.” It’s a double-headed beast. “A, thinking I’m nowhere near good enough, in fact quite terrible,” Bezanson explains. “And then B, when somebody points out evidence to the contrary, or even I find myself finding evidence to the contrary, my immediate reaction is, oh, well, I tricked them.” That’s the loop. You gather real proof that you’re capable, and your brain immediately files it under “accidental.”

This shows up everywhere. Friendships? Same story. You point to the smart, kind people who choose you, and your brain goes, “I tricked them…and soon they’ll realize the real me and they’ll leave.” Career wins? Doesn’t matter. Bezanson jokes her therapist could list every success—strong podcast launch, real listeners, real momentum—and her brain still replies, “Sure…but I tricked them. I’m not actually good, they’ll figure that out soon enough.”

Psychologists call this discounting the positive, a cognitive distortion where your brain automatically throws away anything that contradicts your fears. It’s why imposter syndrome feels so airtight: every piece of evidence gets twisted into more “proof” that you’re secretly a fraud. “My brain is basically like…we’ve got two moods,” Bezanson says. “We have failure, and we have impending failure. There is no third option.” 

Success doesn’t cure it—it makes it worse

Here’s the uncomfortable truth no one tells you: achieving the thing you thought would finally make you feel like enough often does the opposite. “Imposter syndrome is not cured by success,” Bezanson points out. “If anything, success makes it worse. On paper, the more successful I become, the worse my imposter syndrome is and the bigger failure I feel like.”

She’s not exaggerating. She’s built an audience of about 2 million across platforms. She quit her job. She doubled her income. And yet: “I truly sit here coming to you from the most precarious place I’ve ever felt in. I’ve never felt less stable. I’ve never felt like more of a failure.”

Part of it is the goalpost problem. “I make these unrealistic goalposts for myself where I think if I can just do X, Y, and Z, then I’ll have proved to myself and everyone else that I’m not a failure finally,” she explains. “And then when I actually achieve that thing, I don’t even enjoy it for five seconds, not five seconds of success, before moving that goalpost and convincing myself, well, I’m still not good enough.”

She traces part of this back to being a “gifted child”—a “child prodigy at piano,” always at the top of her class, praised constantly by adults who couldn’t believe how talented she was. And she thinks that early identity formation did more damage than good. “When you’re that young and your identity becomes the special kid, the talented kid, the prodigy, you believe that’s who you are forever, right?” she says. “But then your age catches up to your talent and suddenly you’re just normal good. You’re not jaw-dropping good. You’re just like a girl who’s good at piano. And it’s unbearable.”

The result? “You spend the rest of your life trying to recreate that feeling and failing. And therefore, you never feel good enough again.” If you were a “gifted kid” who now feels like a constant disappointment despite objectively doing fine, this might be why.

What actually helps

The good news is that imposter syndrome isn’t a character flaw—it’s a wiring issue. And wiring can be changed. “Imposter syndrome is fixed by rewiring, reprocessing, and repetition,” Bezanson says. “You literally have to train your brain like a toddler who keeps running in front of a school bus.” In other words:, this is skill-building, not self-betrayal.

The first skill? Catch the thought in real time. “Catch that ‘I tricked them’ thought…and don’t let it disguise itself as truth,” she says. “Just literally catch it and go, oh, that’s my brain lying again.” This interrupts the automatic loop long enough for you to shift into something grounded.

Next comes the separation you’ve probably never made: feelings versus facts. “I feel like a fraud…is not the same as I actually am a fraud,” Bezanson says. Your brain loves blending the two. Your job is to pry them apart.

Then there’s the evidence piece—maybe the most uncomfortable part. “Collect evidence like a little goblin,” she says. Screenshots, wins, kind messages, analytics, literally anything that proves you’re not delusional. Because left unchecked, “your brain will delete” every success like it’s clearing storage.

And when something does go well? Don’t sprint past it. Bezanson calls it learning to “sit in success for an uncomfortable 10 seconds.” For people with imposter syndrome, the instinct is to immediately downgrade the moment into “not good enough.” Sitting still rewires the part of your brain that thinks achievement is dangerous.

Imposter syndrome doesn’t vanish overnight. But “it does get quieter if you can learn to recognize it as background noise instead of gospel,” Bezanson says. 

For more insights, tune into Don’t Think wherever you get your podcasts.

Read Next

• Fell Off Your Wellness Streak? ‘The Wellness Process’ Explains What to Do Next
• 4 Manifesting Mistakes That Are Keeping You Stuck, According to ‘Dear Gabby’
• Longevity Isn’t About Weight Loss Anymore—It’s About Treating Aging Like a Metabolic Disease