Maybe impostor syndrome is more than a thinking problem.
For years, most of the conversation around impostor syndrome has focused on thoughts. And that makes sense. We talk about reframing internal narratives, challenging distorted beliefs, and learning to internalize success. That’s important work. It’s effective, too. I’ve taught it (and used it) myself.
But lately, I’ve noticed something else.
When I work with high performers…engineers, physicians, executives, entrepreneurs…I don’t see a lack of ability, or a lack of preparation. I see a very specific reaction when the stakes rise and more eyes are on them. Pressure takes a toll.
A higher-stakes situation causes something to shift physically. Their heart rate changes. Their breathing changes. Their thinking gets narrower. They become hyper-aware of being evaluated.
That doesn’t feel like a simple thinking problem to me.
During the Winter Olympics this week, one of the world’s best skaters, USA’s Ilia Malinin, struggled in a moment that should have been routine. Commentators called it pressure. Some called it a choke. I’m less interested in labels and more interested in what happens neurologically in those moments.
The brain is wired to treat social evaluation as a form of threat. The possibility of being judged, excluded, exposed or having your reputation at stake, activates the same neural pathways of the “fight, flight or freeze” response you’d feel during a sudden scare. That’s not weakness. That’s design.
So when someone says, “I feel like a fraud,” I’m increasingly curious about what’s happening in their nervous system, not just in their thoughts.
Impostor syndrome is tied to burnout, conflict, workplace apathy, and playing under the radar. But what’s the neurological source of those responses? Perhaps it’s that:
- Burnout is sustained pressure without adequate recovery. (“I’m drowning!”)
- Team conflict can be identity threat in disguise. (“I’m under attack.”)
- Workplace apathy follows repeated, unresolved pressure. (“I’m done.”)
- Playing under the radar helps avoid unfamiliar pressure altogether. (“I’m safe.”)
Most impostor syndrome conversations stay focused on thought process, but leaning into some neurobiology about being under pressure gives us far more insights.
Let’s talk about pressure. From my background at NASA, we talked about pressure all the time.
- The higher the altitude, the lower the air pressure.
- Thrust, drag, lift and weight are all related to differences in pressure.
- Airspeed is determined by pressure ratios.
- Engines generate thrust through compression and release of pressure.
- Too much uncontrolled pressure? Damage.
- Properly managed pressure? Power.
In humans:
- Visibility changes psychological pressure.
- Growth both creates and is created by pressure differential.
- Anxiety is compression.
- Recovery is release.
- Mastery involves both.
In aviation, pressure by itself doesn’t create movement. It’s the ratio, or the comparison of pressures that does. I think something similar is happening in high performers under visibility. It’s not just the presence of pressure that determines growth. It’s how that pressure is regulated.
Pressure Ratio. This is the direction I’ll be exploring. It’s not instead of my traditional impostor syndrome focus, but alongside it.
Because if we understand what pressure is doing to the brain, we can stop labeling high performers as fragile, dramatic, disengaged, or difficult… and start calibrating the conditions under which they perform best.
Over the next few weeks, I’ll unpack how pressure ratio shows up in burnout, team conflict, disengagement, and the tendency to play small.
And best of all, if you’ve ever wondered why you can be brilliant in one setting and unravel in another, we’re going to talk about that too.