Trying Not to Overthink This

A Blog About Imposter Syndrome, Performance, and Letting Yourself Actually Do the Thing…

Every time I write a blog, teach a group, or run a training session, there’s always a moment — usually right before hitting “publish” — where I think:

“Who am I to say this?”
“People are going to judge this.”
“Does this even make sense to anyone but me?”

It’s the little man on the shoulder that shows up for anyone who creates, teaches, or puts their ideas into the world.

Imposter syndrome.

The funny part is that none of it stops me from actually knowing what I know. I’ve coached and taught thousands of riders in total, I’ve passed and failed and learned and rebuilt, and I spend more time thinking about snowboarding than I probably should.

But imposter syndrome doesn’t care about evidence.
It cares about vulnerability.

And posting ideas — especially honest ones from my own notes — is vulnerable.

Recently, I wrote a note to myself that felt simple, but it hit the truth cleanly:

“Everyone has their own style… this is mine.”

My riding.
My coaching.
My teaching.
My training.
My way of explaining movement, mindset, snow, pressure, duration, fear, goals.

This is how I do it.

Once I wrote that, I stopped feeling like I had to convince anyone of anything.
I stopped worrying about approval.
I started writing notes and this blog because it helps me ride, coach, and think more clearly — and if someone else gets something out of it too, that’s a bonus.

And here’s the interesting part: research actually backs this shift.

Why Imposter Syndrome Happens

(The Real Science, Not the Buzzword Version)

Psychologists describe imposter syndrome as the gap between internal experience and external reality.

Internally:
You focus on what you don’t know, what you haven’t mastered yet, the flaws in your knowledge and skills.

Externally:
Others see your results, your growth, your track record, and your ability to break complex things down.

The issue isn’t competence — it’s attention.

You’re focusing on the wrong data.

Studies from psychologists Pauline Clance & Suzanne Imes show this clearly:
People with imposter feelings often overestimate other people’s competence and underestimate their own learning history.

You see your journey.
Others see your skill.

And when you create — present, teach, coach, film, post, demo — your brain interprets it as a performance.
Performance triggers evaluation.
Evaluation triggers self-protection.
Self-protection triggers imposter syndrome.

It’s not weakness.
It’s biology.

Pressure can Kill Performance…

(Unless You Shift What “Performance” Means)

In high-performance environments — sport, leadership, public speaking — excessive self-focus reduces execution.
Sports psychologists call this “paralysis by analysis.”

When you’re thinking about how you’re being perceived, you're not thinking about what you’re actually doing.

Riders freeze up.
Coaches over-explain.
A snowboard degenerate doesn’t post his ramblings.

But here’s where your own quote (doesn’t have to be mine) can become powerful:

“Everyone has their own style… this is mine.”

This reframes everything for me.
You're not performing — you're expressing.

Expression = flow.
Performance = pressure.

Performance says: don’t mess it up.
Expression says: this is how I see the world.

One blocks you.
The other frees you.

Style Is a Skill — and It Comes From Repetitions, Not Perfection

When you look at riders with unmistakable style — Ståle, Mia Brookes, Torstein, Rene — you’re not seeing someone who tried to fit a mold.

You’re seeing someone who repeated movements long enough that they became theirs.

Same with teaching.
Same with coaching.
Same with posting.

There’s research in creativity psychology showing that style emerges from volume, not waiting for confidence and inspiration.

Create enough (with attention), and eventually your work starts sounding like you — even if you can’t spot it at first.

And that’s why withholding your ideas doesn’t just limit what others might learn.

It limits your own development.

The Coaching Parallel — Fear Shrinks Skill

Every season, I see riders who could be insanely good, but they’re held back by the same thing:

Fear of how it might look.

Fear of failure.
Fear of judgement.
Fear of not being good enough… yet.

But the moment they stop worrying about looking good… they start riding better.

Creativity and performance both need psychological space — room to make mistakes, experiment, try angles, refine, adjust.

Imposter syndrome shrinks that space.

Expression expands it.

So Here’s the Real Truth

You don’t need permission to contribute.
You don’t need to be the best to be valuable.
You don’t need to write the perfect blog of ramblings to write a helpful one.

And you definitely don’t need to match anyone else’s voice.

You just need to keep showing up in your own way.

Your way IS the value.

-Cam