Surprising ways imposter syndrome creeps in

If you think imposter syndrome is something only newbies deal with, pull up a chair, friend. Because lately I’ve been reminded — again — that some of the most successful handlers in our sport still wrestle with feeling like frauds. Yes, even the ones with decades of experience, national titles, and nothing left to prove … except maybe to themselves.

So why does imposter syndrome linger even at the top?

Here are a few of the sneaky ways it shows up — even when the rest of the world thinks you’ve “made it.”

1. Your success finally becomes … visible.

There’s a moment in every handler’s journey when you’re no longer flying under the radar. People watch you now. They notice your dog. They know your name. You go from being “the up-and-coming team” to “the team to beat.”

And suddenly a mistake doesn’t feel private anymore — it feels like a press conference.

Your nervous system goes:

“Fantastic. Now everyone is here to witness my downfall.”

Visibility isn’t easy, even when you earned it.

And ironically, the more you succeed, the more you fear being “found out.”

2. Your dog levels up faster than you do.

One day, your dog wakes up and decides, “I’m a prodigy now.”

Flawless contacts. Brilliant heeling. Reads you like they’re clairvoyant.

And you’re just standing there thinking:

“I did not consent to being the weak link.”

When your dog surges ahead, imposter syndrome slides right in:

“Even if we Q, it’s because they carried us. Not because I’m actually good.”

Spoiler: partnership is still partnership.

You don’t need to match your dog stride for stride — you need to show up, communicate, and, you know … not panic.

3. Comparison gets sharper at the top.

When you were a beginner, you compared yourself to other beginners.

Cute. Innocent. Harmless.

Now you’re comparing yourself to finalists, world team members, and that teenager whose dog apparently downloaded the course map in advance.

The comparison group narrows, the stakes rise, and suddenly you’re convinced everyone else is more legitimate than you.

It’s not true — but it makes perfect sense, your brain thinks it is.

4. Your identity hasn’t caught up yet.

Here’s where things get real.

You’ve been “working on it” for years.

Training, learning, listening, grinding.

Your whole identity is wrapped in the climb.

Then one day … you’re actually good.

But your internal narrative?

Still stuck in “student mode.”

Success happened faster than your identity could rewire, so even your wins feel like you’re just borrowing someone else’s confidence.

Identity work is slow.

Skill development is fast.

That mismatch? Very fertile ground for imposter syndrome.

5. People suddenly see you as a leader … and you weren’t ready for that memo.

You teach classes.

You post videos.

You get asked for advice.

People watch you walk to the ring with expectations.

None of this is bad.

But it creates pressure — the “I have to be the example” flavor of pressure.

And with that comes the whisper:

“If they only knew how often I wing it…”

Welcome to advanced-level imposter syndrome: same fear, better hair, and handling shoes.

6. You weren’t expecting success this soon.

Even seasoned handlers get blindsided by good things.

Your dog matures early.

You have a breakthrough run.

You qualify for something you assumed was still years away.

Suddenly, your brain is like:

“This was not on the timeline. I am unprepared. Please take it back.”

Success that arrives ahead of schedule can feel suspicious — as if it must have been luck, not skill. But timelines are arbitrary. Your work wasn’t.

7. Pressure and nerves get mislabeled as “I don’t belong here.”

This is the sneakiest one.

You don’t actually doubt your skills.

You’re doubting whether you can deliver them under pressure.

The brain interprets that nervous energy as danger, which it quickly translates into:

“I’m an imposter.”

But here’s the truth:

You’re not an imposter.

You’re a high-level competitor with a nervous system trying to keep you alive. Sometimes a little too enthusiastically.

Managing pressure is not the same as proving worthiness.

One doesn’t invalidate the other.

The takeaway?

If highly accomplished competitors still feel imposter syndrome after years — or decades — of success … you’re not broken. You’re on a normal part of the path that just happens to come with more spectators.

Imposter syndrome isn’t a sign that you don’t belong.

It’s a sign you’re stretching your identity to match your reality — and doing it in public.

And that, my friend, is exactly where growth happens.