Do I Belong Here?

I'm on the plane headed home from a whirlwind trip to Calgary for a medical education conference. Attending these kinds of events always brings a strong mix of emotions: excitement to travel and immerse myself in learning, overwhelm while navigating a complex schedule, anticipation for the sessions I’m looking forward to (or in this case, one I’m honored to be delivering), and, almost always, a hefty dose of imposter syndrome.

This time, my research partners and I were fortunate enough - or let’s reframe that, we worked hard enough - to be awarded a key presentation slot. So why does the question “Do I belong here?” still creep in?

I have a feeling I wasn’t the only one in the ballroom feeling this way.

At events like this, I often find myself looking around at all the impressive titles, pedigrees, and affiliations and wondering: What do I have to offer this conversation? I’m surrounded by brilliant people who are deeply specialized in their fields. Words fly across the room that I scribble down quickly, hoping I’ll remember to look them up later.

The truth is, the pivots I’ve taken in my career sometimes make me feel “less than” when I compare myself to those who’ve followed more traditional, linear paths. My work has spanned so many areas from life at the basic science lab bench, to undergraduate education, curriculum development, building a research training program, holding multiple roles in medical education teaching and leadership, and pivoting my research focus into medical education research and intergenerational studies. Each step took me in a new direction, often away from becoming highly specialized in any one area.

But then something happens.

If I’m brave enough, or actually - vulnerable enough, to share my thoughts during a session or a conversation around a table, I’m often met with interest, validation, and warmth. My ideas, grounded in a wide breadth of lived experience and creative problem-solving, are frequently well received - even by those same highly trained individuals I had been intimidated by.

And every time, the imposter voice fades.

In its place, there’s a grounded sense of self. I remember that breadth can be just as valuable as depth. That curiosity is a form of expertise. That having meaningful experiences in many (seemingly discrete) areas actually creates its own type of knowledge. That there’s power in showing up with a different lens.

Looking around rooms like these, I wonder how often others feel the same way.

What ideas, innovations, and connections are we missing when so many of us sit in silence, unsure if we belong? What would be possible if we could all walk into these spaces with immediate confidence in the expertise we carry, whether it's formal training or the depth of our lived experience?

What if we skipped right past “Do I belong here?” and moved straight into “I’m exactly where I belong”?

Have you had a moment like this recently? What helped you remember your value in the room?