People assume I’ve always been comfortable behind a microphone. After all, I grew up around music and radio.
For the longest time, I didn’t think I was someone who struggled with imposter syndrome. I grew up performing, I competed in dance, baton twirling, and gymnastics. Standing in front of judges, performing under bright lights, and being evaluated never really rattled me, like at all. Later, I became a fitness instructor, then a yoga teacher. Teaching classes, speaking in front of a room full of people, even leading workshops felt surprisingly natural.
Yes, I mean I got nervous sometimes, everyone does, but I never questioned if I belonged there. Even in high school and college when I was in speech classes I never got nerves or imposter syndrome, in high school I even did the announcements over the PA system and was never phased. So when people talk about imposter syndrome, I honestly couldn’t relate. Until I started a podcast.
Somewhere along the way, my voice became my work, not my ability to teach a yoga pose, not my knowledge of fitness, not whether I could guide a meditation or lead a class. Just…my voice. The way I speak, the way I tell stories, the way my thoughts sound out loud, and suddenly I found myself back in college in a speech class and having the other classmates count how many times I say “like” and telling me I sound like such a valley girl.
Then the nonstop with my own insecurities of sounding ditzy, not intelligent enough, or my dreaded one that I still get told and I hate…… You sound like a Kardashian.
I’ll finish recording an episode feeling proud of it, then I’ll listen back and hear every filler word, every awkward pause, every sentence I wish I’d said differently, every brain freeze and brain fog that I can’t find my words.
It’s funny how our own voices can become mirrors, not reflecting what we actually sound like, but reflecting every insecurity we’ve ever had. The ironic part is that these thoughts didn’t really show up in the beginning, but they got louder after my podcast started getting recognized.
When Fit, Fun, and Frazzled was selected by Million Podcasts as one of the Top 100 Self Care Podcasts, Top 100 Wellbeing Podcasts and Top 100 Women’s Mental Health Podcasts on the web in 2025, then again this year 2026 and top 50 in Health, I expected to feel validated. Instead, I felt exposed and like a fraud.
I thought recognition would quiet the inner critic, nope it just got a lot louder to the fact I actually felt sick. Then I started wondering if people expected more from me now. What if this episode isn’t as good as the last one? What if people realize I don’t know enough? What if they’re wondering why they’re listening to me in the first place? The irony isn’t lost on me.
I grew up around people whose voices were their careers. I know what great communicators sound like. My dad has spent decades in broadcasting, coaching some of the biggest personalities in the industry. Conversations about storytelling, delivery, pacing, and what makes someone compelling on the air weren’t unusual in our house. Radio wasn’t just his career, it’s a family business.
My dad never expected me to sound like anyone else, both of my parents have always been incredibly supportive. The pressure has never come from anyone but myself. It’s amazing how quickly our brains can turn something beautiful into something to fear. After doing some meditating and a long walk i’ve realized imposter syndrome isn’t always about lacking confidence, it can be about visibility. When I’m teaching yoga, people aren’t analyzing my voice. Well at least I’m pretty sure they aren’t and they’re more focused on how they’re feeling in their bodies and mind.
But if I can turn this into a teaching moment it would be this that I have to repeately remind myself, no one else is listening to my podcast the way I am.
No one is counting how many times I said “like.” I mean maybe there are some people but not as many as I think there are.
Most people are listening because something resonated, with them, maybe they needed to hear they’re not alone, maybe they went for a walk, folded laundry, drove to work, or sat in a parking lot for an extra five minutes just to finish an episode. They aren’t grading my voice. Maybe that I actually sound normal and like a human and don’t take myself so seriously. I laugh at my self and I guess i sound like a valley girl and a Kardashian. But I hope people take away from my podcasts is that I am trying to connect with others, connect with humanity, and I think this is why I felt so compelled to write this today.
I haven’t conquered imposter syndrome, not yet, some days it’s still there, whispering that I should sound smarter, more polished, more professional.
But I’m beginning to think that the very things I’m worried about are the things that make my podcast feel like an actual real conversation instead of a lecture.
People don’t need another perfect expert I think we are craving real human connection, not fake polished stuff. They just need someone willing to show up honestly. So my friends, I’ll keep recording, probably still cringe when I listen back, and I’ll remind myself that confidence isn’t the absence of self-doubt, it’s me deciding my voice is worth sharing anyway.
Somewhere along the way, from being a kid to now I forgot something I already knew, the goal was never to sound perfect, it’s to make someone feel a little less alone.
If my voice can do that, then that’s enough for me.
