About Unwritten

This entry came from a reader who asked me to write about imposter syndrome. It’s fitting, because I’ve lived with it long enough to know how familiar its voice can sound.

Imposter syndrome doesn’t always shout. Sometimes it whispers. You’re not as good as they think you are. You just got lucky. One mistake and they’ll see the truth. It sneaks into the moments that should feel like wins (the job offer, the promotion, the compliment from someone you respect).. and turns them into reasons to doubt yourself.

I’ve felt it most when I’m stepping into something new. New role. New country. New project where everyone else seems to already know the rules. Instead of seeing those moments as growth, I’ve caught myself bracing for exposure, waiting for someone to call me out.

But here’s what I’ve learned: feeling like an imposter doesn’t mean you are one. It means you’re in the stretch zone, doing something that matters enough to scare you. The people who never feel it often aren’t pushing themselves at all.

I still hear that whisper sometimes. The difference is, I don’t take it at face value anymore. I let it remind me that growth feels uncomfortable and that competence isn’t the same as confidence.

So to the reader who asked: you’re not alone in this. None of us are. And if you ever feel like an imposter, maybe that’s the clearest sign you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

P.S. Thank you for your kind words, and hope this helps!

I’ve never had lightning split the sky in front of me or a voice tell me exactly what to do. But I’ve had moments that make me wonder.

Some call it coincidence. Others call it humanity. Sometimes, the timing feels so precise it’s hard not to think something bigger is at work. Whether you name it God, the universe, or just the strange geometry of life lining up at the right moment.

But here’s the thing: if there’s God, He’s not just dropping these moments in your path for decoration. He’s keeping score. Which means you don’t get to hide behind ignorance, bad luck, or “that’s just how the world works.” You know when you’re in the wrong. You know when you could’ve done better.

And if there’s no God? You’re still responsible. No one’s watching. No one’s forgiving. Every choice is yours to own, without the safety net of divine redemption.

Maybe the real question isn’t whether God exists. It’s whether you’re living in a way you can stand by, either way.

P.S. If you can hear me now

In every job I’ve had, I’ve learned that your direct boss matters more than almost anything else, sometimes even more than the company itself.

They’re the person who decides whether your good work gets noticed or quietly filed away. They set the tone for your day before you’ve even open up your inbox. A supportive boss can make you feel like you’re growing, even in a tough role. A bad one can drain you so quickly that even your dream job starts to feel like a mistake.

Your direct boss is your filter to the larger organisation. They’re the one who fights for your promotion, shields you from unnecessary politics. In some cases, throws you straight into it. They control your opportunities, your workload, and often, how safe you feel to speak up.

I’ve had bosses who challenged me in the best ways, giving me room to take risks while knowing they’d have my back if things went sideways. And I’ve had others who made every decision feel like walking a tightrope without a net. The difference between the two isn’t just leadership style — it’s how much they actually care (or don’t) about your growth and wellbeing.

We don’t always get to choose our bosses. But if you find a good one, it’s worth more than a fancy title, a bigger salary, or a well-known brand. Because at the end of the day, your job satisfaction often comes down to one question: who’s in your corner when it matters?

You tell yourself it’s just five minutes. Just a quick check; a message, the news, the weather. But forty minutes later, your thumb is still moving and you have no idea what you’ve actually gained.

I’ve watched myself do it in bed, commuting, between tasks at work. Sometimes it’s headlines. Sometimes it’s watching strangers rip each other apart in the comments. Sometimes it’s just flipping between the same three apps like I’m hoping one of them will suddenly have the answer to absolutely nothing.

Doom scrolling works because it pretends to put you in control; you choose when to swipe, when to stop. But it’s the other way around. The feed owns you. It’s built to drip-feed novelty, to keep you hooked even when you’re not enjoying it. And you keep coming back because you mistake stimulation for satisfaction.

The cost isn’t just the time you lose. It’s the mental residue – the restlessness, the distraction, the weight of a hundred useless worries you’ve picked up from other people’s lives and headlines.

If you wouldn’t let a stranger dump trash in your living room, stop letting one pour it into your head. Close the app. Walk away. Spend that hour on something that will still matter tomorrow.

Most strangers pass through our lives unnoticed. You brush past them on the train, order your coffee, nod politely in a lift. But every now and then, one of them shifts something in you.. a moment so small it’s almost nothing, yet you remember it years later.

I’ve had strangers step in for me when they didn’t have to. The French lady in Paris who noticed I looked lost and walked me three blocks to my destination. The bus driver who caught sight of me running from across the street and waited instead of pulling away. The hawker centre stall owner who refused to accept payment for my drink because I didn’t have a smaller bill.

They had no stake in me. No reason. And yet, they chose to give me something valuable: their time, their effort, their attention.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: you owe them nothing back. Not to them. But you do owe the world something because of them. You owe it forward. That’s how this works. The ledger isn’t closed when the moment ends; it stays open, waiting for you to carry that generosity into someone else’s life.

The thing is, most of us don’t. We tell ourselves we’ll do it when we have time, when it’s convenient. And in the meantime, we walk past opportunities every single day.

Every act of kindness you’ve ever received is an unpaid debt. Settle it, not backwards, but forward. Leave someone better than you found them.