Is it really imposter syndrome – or is it the lingering effects of narcissistic abuse?

If you constantly question your abilities, dismiss your achievements or feel as though you’ll eventually be ‘found out’, you might assume you’re experiencing imposter syndrome. But for some people, those feelings don’t begin in the workplace. They begin in a relationship where their confidence was slowly dismantled.

Imposter syndrome is often described as the persistent belief that you’re less capable than other people think you are. Even when the evidence points to competence, success or expertise, your internal narrative says otherwise: You’re not good enough. You’re fooling everyone. It’s only a matter of time before people realise.

While these thoughts can develop for many reasons, therapists are increasingly recognising that prolonged narcissistic abuse can create the perfect conditions for them to take root.

When self-doubt is learned

At the heart of narcissistic abuse is the systematic erosion of another person’s confidence in their own perceptions. Gaslighting, chronic criticism, blame-shifting and emotional invalidation don’t simply hurt in the moment — they gradually reshape how someone sees themselves.

As empowerment coach and trauma-informed speaker Taz Thornton explains: “Narcissistic abuse is, at its core, a sustained attack on our perception of our own reality.”

Over time, survivors may begin to absorb messages they repeatedly hear: that they’re irrational, overly emotional, selfish, incompetent or somehow “too much”. “The doubt wasn’t self-generated; it was installed,” Thornton says. “Someone else built that soundtrack, and it plays on a loop long after they’ve gone.”

This is one reason why imposter syndrome can feel so convincing after emotionally abusive relationships. The inner critic doesn’t always originate from within — it can be the lingering echo of someone else’s voice.

Why success doesn’t silence the doubt

One of the defining features of imposter syndrome is that external achievements rarely change how someone feels internally.

A promotion, a degree or praise from colleagues may provide temporary reassurance, but the self-doubt quickly returns. For survivors of narcissistic abuse, this makes psychological sense.

If you’ve spent years learning that mistakes lead to criticism, withdrawal of affection or emotional punishment, perfection can become a survival strategy rather than a personality trait. “Many become relentless over-preparers or perfectionists,” Thornton explains. “Not because they’re naturally driven that way, but because they learned that mistakes once carried emotional consequences.”

Instead of feeling proud of their achievements, they continue trying to earn a sense of worth that should never have been conditional in the first place.

When your nervous system stays on high alert

The effects of narcissistic abuse aren’t purely psychological — they can also become deeply embedded in the nervous system. According to BACP-registered psychotherapist Joseph Conway, living in emotionally unpredictable relationships teaches the brain and body to remain constantly alert. “If you’re living in an environment where affection, criticism, rejection and reassurance come in cycles, your nervous system adapts,” he explains.

People often become highly attuned to subtle shifts in another person’s mood, scanning facial expressions, analysing text messages or second-guessing conversations in an attempt to stay emotionally safe. “That’s not because they’re ‘too sensitive’,” Conway says. “It’s because their nervous system has learned to scan for threats.”

Over time, this chronic state of vigilance can affect sleep, concentration, anxiety levels, mood and even physical health. Crucially, these responses are not character flaws — they’re adaptations to prolonged stress.

The hidden cost: losing trust in yourself

Perhaps one of the least recognised consequences of narcissistic abuse is how deeply it can affect everyday decision-making. Clinical psychologist Dr Sheena Kumar describes decision paralysis as one of the quieter but most enduring legacies of these relationships.

“Survivors become so accustomed to having their reality questioned that even small decisions — what to wear or who to trust — can become difficult because self-trust has been colonised.”

Gaslighting doesn’t just make someone question individual memories or events. It teaches them to distrust their own instincts altogether.

As Kumar puts it, “Imposter syndrome is a hangover of chronic gaslighting. It is the psychological aftermath of prolonged invalidation.”

When someone repeatedly receives the message that they are never quite enough, self-belief itself can begin to feel uncomfortable — even unsafe.

Recovery is about more than leaving

Ending the relationship is often only the beginning. Many survivors describe what therapists sometimes refer to as a “second injury”: the lingering self-doubt, hypervigilance and loss of identity that remain long after the abusive dynamic has ended. But these patterns are not permanent.

“The brain can recover because the nervous system is adaptable,” Conway explains. “Recovery often involves rebuilding emotional safety, restoring trust in your own judgement and reconnecting with supportive relationships.”

Importantly, healing isn’t simply about forgetting everything. “Recovery isn’t just about getting over the other person,” Conway says. “It’s about getting back to yourself.”

That means rediscovering your own preferences, learning to trust your instincts again and recognising that calm, healthy relationships may initially feel unfamiliar — not because they’re wrong, but because your nervous system is learning a new definition of safety.

Perhaps the greatest challenge in recovering from narcissistic abuse is separating your authentic inner voice from the one that was imposed upon you. As Thornton describes it, healing is an ongoing process of asking difficult but liberating questions.

“Recovery involves a lot of unpicking,” she says. “Working out what’s actually ours and what was handed to us by someone who had their own reasons for keeping us small.”

Words: Sally Saunders, Images: Shutterstock