Imposter Syndrome, Perfectionism, and Choosing Presence Over Performance
Something I’ve had to unlearn (about 17 million times) is the idea that I need to have it all figured out before I show up for… anything really.
I’ve struggled with perfectionism for as long as I can remember. Part of that is ADHD. Part of it is anxiety. Part of it is functional freeze, where my brain decides that doing nothing feels safer than doing something imperfectly. Some stages of life have been harder than others. Some times of the month are… objectively rude. And while I’ve learned a lot of coping mechanisms over my nearly 42 years, this is still something I actively manage, not something I’ve “overcome.”
I know, rationally, that perfection isn’t possible. The phrases “progress over perfection” and “mistakes are proof that you’re trying” are clichés for a reason. (Mantras? Affirmations? Decorative throw pillows?) They’re true.
I learn from mistakes I make every single day. I know I’m a work in progress. And yet, I am also deeply critical of myself. I hold myself to a standard I try to never expect from anyone else. So, I try to make the conscious choice, daily, to speak to myself and treat myself with kindness. Sometimes that means stepping away from a project before I walk off a ledge. Sometimes it means reminding myself that asking for help won’t make anyone think less of me. And sometimes it means hiding in the bathtub and eating an entire bag of York Peppermint Patties. I told you, work in progress.
One thing I’ve learned working alongside young people is this: they don’t need perfection from adults. They need honesty, consistency, and someone willing to show up.
Where Am I Going with This?
We talk a lot about confidence, resilience, grit, achievement, and “success stories.” What we don’t talk about enough is how deeply normalised imposter syndrome has become, especially for young people.
Many systems unintentionally reinforce the idea that worth is conditional. Do well, behave well, perform well, and you belong. Make mistakes, struggle, fall behind, and suddenly you’re “a problem” to be managed rather than a person to be supported.
This is where perfectionism thrives.
In environments like schools, the line between consequences and punishment often gets blurred. All choices have consequences, good and bad. That’s part of being human. But punishment, especially when it’s disconnected from learning or repair, can create shame. And shame has a way of sticking around. It lowers self-esteem, erodes trust, and quietly fuels imposter syndrome long after the detention slip or disciplinary meeting is forgotten.
For young people, especially those already navigating instability, marginalisation, or trauma, this can lead to a fear of trying at all. When mistakes are treated as failures instead of information to learn from, the safest option becomes disengagement. And disengagement doesn’t mean they don’t care. It actually usually means they care a lot, but don’t feel safe enough to risk getting it wrong.
I’ve been incredibly lucky. From a young age, I have had someone in my life who supported me, no matter what half-baked, wildly ambitious, or completely impractical idea popped into my head. That person also knew and respected my boundaries. They knew when to step in and when to let me figure things out on my own. That balance, of having support and autonomy matters more than we sometimes realize. Not all people have that.
Before SAYes, I had completed one graduate degree and was nearly through with a Specialist Degree in school counseling. This was after a Bachelor of Fine Arts, a short-lived career as a news producer, followed by an entertainment journalism career, then a jaunt as a legal assistant while I considered law school (hard pass). I switched to marketing for a while, had 2 kids and then decided I should try something in education or the social sciences (see above: half-baked, wildly ambitious, sometimes impractical ideas). I knew I wanted to help kids and young adults inform their futures and have agency over their own lives. I also learned pretty quickly that traditional education systems weren’t the pathway for that work… for me or for many of the young people I cared about.
Young people (and some middle-aged people) do need structure, but they also need freedom. They need space to make decisions, to mess up, to experience natural consequences without the added weight of shame or punishment. They need consistent adults who don’t disappear when things get hard, and who don’t demand perfection in exchange for support.
From a counseling lens, what matters most isn’t having the right answers, it’s creating safety. Consistency. Predictability. A nonjudgmental presence. Someone who listens instead of lectures. Someone who believes that learning happens over time, not all at once.
That kind of support doesn’t eliminate mistakes. It makes mistakes survivable and meaningful.
Where Mentorship Fits
Mentorship isn’t a solution. It’s a support.
At SAYes, the structure matters. Formal mentoring grounded in informed decision-making. Practising healthy habits across ten different life domains. Clear frameworks paired with flexibility. Accountability without judgment.
But what truly sets it apart is the person-centered approach.
Mentors aren’t expected to be perfect. They’re expected to be present. To show up consistently. To model curiosity, reflection, and self-compassion. To say, “I don’t know, but I’ll sit with you while we figure it out.”
That combination of structure and humanity, turned out to be exactly what I never knew I was looking for.
Mentorship creates space for young people to practise agency without fear. To learn that mistakes don’t define them. To experience consequences that teach rather than punish. And, maybe most importantly, to internalise the belief that they are worthy of support even when they’re still becoming who they are.
And here’s the part people don’t say out loud enough: mentors change too. Setting aside one hour a week doesn’t just impact a young person, it reshapes how you listen, how you reflect, how you show up in your own life.
You're Invited, No Pressure
None of us get anywhere alone. Not really.
It takes a village to raise a child, but it also takes a village to be a human navigating adulthood, uncertainty, and growth. We all benefit from spaces where we’re allowed to be unfinished.
So maybe the question isn’t “Am I good enough to mentor?”
Maybe it’s “Who might benefit from me showing up exactly as I am?”
Mentorship doesn’t require perfection. It requires willingness. Curiosity. One small, intentional step. One hour a week to sit alongside someone else and, in the process, learn a little more about yourself.
If that idea makes you uncomfortable, intrigued, or quietly hopeful… you might already be exactly who this movement needs.
Join us.
Enter the era of mentorship.
