Your Health Your Way
James Ross M.D. shares insights on health, business, and life
Your Health Your Way
Why Confident People Still Feel Like Fakes
We explore the quiet split between being calm and capable at work and feeling spent and distant at home, and how imposter syndrome grows in that gap. We share research, lived moments from palliative care, and practical steps to move from secrecy to honest care.
• ICU story that reveals dignity-centered decisions
• definition of imposter syndrome and its prevalence in medicine
• contrast between public reverence and private depletion
• compassion fatigue as emotional exhaustion from carrying stories
• honesty, reframing depletion, and self-compassion as tools
• practical helps: transitions, boundaries, clear conversations
• rituals of care to refill emotional reserves
• message for all caregivers beyond healthcare
• worth beyond productivity and perfection
• closing reminder that both identities are real and valued
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Hey everybody, welcome back to another episode of Your Health Your Way. I'm Dr. James Ross, and today's episode is personal. It really hits home for me, and maybe it will for you too as well. Today's episode is about imposter syndrome and the quiet ways it shows up when you seem confident, admired, or maybe even revered at work, but maybe sometimes you're feeling like a stranger at home. If you've ever wondered whether your family gets only what's left of you, this episode is for you. At the hospital, I'm Dr. James Ross, a palliative care physician. At times, maybe the calm in the storm, the steady presence in chaos. I step into rooms that are heavy with fear and uncertainty, and decisions need to be made. Families look to me for clarity and strength. I want to share with you about one particular experience that I had recently at the hospital. I was taking care of a man in his 60s. He had advanced liver failure. His daughter was in the room as well as other family members, and they were clearly exhausted from nights spent in the ICU. I sat down at eye level with a family, and I asked, What worries you most right now? And this man's daughter broke down and she said, I don't know if I can keep doing this to him. We talked and we spent a lot of time talking about her father's love for fishing, his grandkids, his dignity, and slowly she realized the choice wasn't about giving up. It was actually about honoring who he was. When they decided to shift from comfort care to like a hospice-based approach, the family hugged me, and one even whispered in my ear, You're the only doctor who made us feel human. And it's moments like that that remind me why I do this work. I walk out of those rooms thinking, this is what I was meant to do. But then, after a busy day at the hospital, I drive home. I walk through my front door, and it's like crossing into another world. My daughter, I remember one time asked me maybe to help her with a science project. I was drained, still carrying the weight of the day's tears. And I probably snapped and I maybe said something like, Not now, I can't. I remember seeing her eyes fall, disappointed, confused, and to her, I wasn't the calm doctor. I was the irritable dad. And my wife, and she said it many a times, your patients get the best of you, and we get the leftovers. That one stings because she is absolutely right. At work, at times maybe I'm revered, but at home I'm depleted, and that's where imposter syndrome plants its roots. That quiet, painful space between who the world thinks I am and who I fear I might be. So, what is imposter syndrome? Let's take a minute and dissect that a little bit. Imposter syndrome is the persistent fear of being exposed as a fraud or even when there's evidence of success. It whispers, if they only knew the real you, they wouldn't admire you. In medicine, it's everywhere. Research shows that up to 70% of physicians feel imposter-like at some point. It's even higher among those in emotionally heavy specialties like palliative care. For me, it's not about doubting my medical skill. It's doubting whether the version of me that my patients see, the compassionate, calm version, is real. When the people closest to me see someone so different. So which one is the truth? Imposter syndrome thrives in silence. It doesn't shout, it whispers. Don't admit you're tired. Don't let them see you struggle. Don't tell anyone you sometimes don't want to be anyone's strength. So we stay quiet, we keep performing, and the distance keeps growing. I can remember nights at the dinner table, my wife talking about her day, my kids laughing about school, and me just staring at my plate. Silent. Spent. And I can feel them thinking, he's here, but he's not really here. Silence doesn't protect anyone, it just deepens the gap. Let's name another layer, compassion fatigue. It's not burnout exactly, it's more like an emotional exhaustion that just seeps into your bones. The result of carrying too many people's stories. And I remember one night after sitting with a family, as their mother had passed, I came home and my son ran up, arms open, and I couldn't even hug him. My body responded, but my heart was somewhere else. That's compassion fatigue. And that's when the imposter voice gets louder. You're not who they think you are. But the truth is, I wasn't empty because I didn't care. I was empty because I had actually cared so much. So, how do we live in that tension between reverence and doubt? First, I think we need to name it. We say, yes, sometimes I feel like an imposter. Yes, sometimes my family doesn't get my best self. That's honesty, not weakness. Second, we need to reframe it. Feeling depleted doesn't make you fraudulent, it makes you human. Third, we practice compassion, not just outwardly, but actually inwardly. I tell families every day, your worth isn't tied to productivity or perfection, and yet believing that for myself is the hardest part. I'd like to share with you a few practices that have helped me or helping me. Number one, transitions. Before walking in the house, I sit in my car for five minutes, I breathe, I let the day go, and I say to myself, now I'm a husband, I'm a father. Two, boundaries. At work, I've started saying no, not because I care less, but because I want to last. Conversations. When I'm running on empty, I try to say so instead of showing it through frustration. That honesty actually invites grace. Next, what I would call rituals of care. Things like taking a walk, journaling, prayer, quiet music. For me, I like to play my guitar or my violin. Small things that refill what the day drains out. These aren't fixes, they're lifelines. So I want to invite you, wherever you're listening, take a breath. Pause. Ask yourself: have I been giving my best self to my work while my loved ones get what's left over? Have I accepted praise while secretly doubting I deserve it? Have I felt like an imposter in my own life? Well, let me tell you, friends, you are not alone. So take another breath and imagine yourself that you are offering yourself the same gentleness that you would give to maybe your patients, your students, your clients, your children. Hold that thought. That's where healing begins. So this isn't just about physicians. And yes, a lot of physicians and people in healthcare might listen to this podcast, but for teachers and pastors, parents, caregivers, anyone who lives to serve others knows this tension that I'm talking about. The world applauds your role, but your family sees the cost. Imposter syndrome isn't proof you're failing, it's proof that you care deeply, maybe too deeply, and that you're trying to hold impossible standards. You are not the fraud your mind imagines. You're the human that your soul is actually becoming. So at work, I may be Dr. Ross, steady, respected, composed, handling difficult conversations, difficult scenarios. At home, I'm just me, husband, father, sometimes weary, sometimes uncertain. Both are real and both matter. The goal isn't to erase the gap, it's to live truthfully inside of it. And maybe the most radical act of self-belief is to finally trust the words we tell others every day. That your worth is inherent, your value is unearned, and love does not depend on perfection. Maybe the world needs more of us who are willing to say, I'm doing my best, and that's enough. So thank you all for listening today. If this episode spoke to you, share it with someone who might need it. And remember, even healers need healing. Thanks for joining. See you next time.