The Beginning

By Aysin Kuran

One Last Meeting Before Therapy, Fifteen ‘I’ll Handle Its,’ and Zero Boundaries

Hi, I’m Kate. Kate the PM.

I work for a big tech company where women employees make up 32% of the workforce. I’m one of the lucky ones, I tell myself. I have a good job. A nice apartment. 

And I’m one meeting away from a complete breakdown.

The Last Meeting Before Therapy

This is my last meeting before seeing my therapist.

The meeting ended, of course, 45 minutes late. I have 15 minutes to get to therapy. In rush hour traffic. It’ll take 30.

But before I can leave, Richard (our CTO) corners me:

Richard: “Kate, can you handle the customer chatbot project? We need it done in 8 weeks.”

What I think: I have three other projects. I’m already working 60-hour weeks. I haven’t slept more than 5 hours in two months.

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What I say: “Of course. I’ll handle it.”

That makes fifteen “I’ll handle its” today. I’m keeping count.

Boundary setting score: 0/15.

Therapy: The Coffee Intervention

I arrive 20 minutes late to therapy. Maggie, my therapist, doesn’t look surprised.

Maggie: “So, how do you feel when you say ‘failure is not an option’ to yourself?”

What I think: Like I’m drowning but also like if I stop swimming everyone will see I was never a good swimmer to begin with.

What I say: “Motivated?”

Maggie gives me The Look. The one that says ‘we both know you’re lying but I’ll let you get there on your own.’

Maggie: “Kate. When’s the last time you ate a real meal?”

I panic-count backwards. Breakfast was coffee. Lunch was coffee. Yesterday’s dinner was… also coffee?

Me: “A latte has milk. Milk is protein. Technically that counts as—”

Maggie: “Coffee is not food.”

I mumble: “Okay, I’ll grab something from Starbucks downstairs.”

As I’m leaving, Maggie calls out:

Maggie: “Kate. You can’t pour from an empty cup.”

I want to tell her: I don’t have a choice. But that would require admitting I have no idea how to stop.

I go home without eating anything and order comfort food from DoorDash. I have to prep for tomorrow’s Design Thinking workshop.

Spoiler: I fall asleep at my laptop instead.

Sprint 0: Design Thinking Workshop

(aka Imposter Syndrome Festival feat. Lots of Post-its)

Well, the 5 minutes of prep must have turned into 5 hours because I wake up as the sun is rising. My neck hurts. There’s a coffee stain on my shirt. My laptop died.

Workshop starts in 45 minutes.

I shower in 6 minutes, put on a blazer over the coffee-stained shirt (classic move), and arrive 2 minutes late looking like I have my life together.

Workshop Moment #1: Post-it Chaos

Our facilitator, Bryce Wellington III (yes, really), says with manufactured enthusiasm:

Bryce: “Everyone write 20 ideas in 3 minutes! No idea is bad! Let’s ideate!”

Three minutes. Twenty ideas. My brain is empty.

So I begin writing:

Post-it 1: “AI chatbot”

Post-it 2: “Customer satisfaction”

Post-it 3: “…help”

Post-it 4: “I wonder if anyone would notice if I quit now”

Post-it 5-20: [blank, but I stick them on the wall anyway so no one would think I’m incompetent]

Imposter syndrome level: 100%

Workshop Moment #2: “How Might We?” Questions

A few hours later, Bryce continues in the same cheerful, bubbly voice:

Bryce: “Now let’s frame our challenge with ‘How Might We’ questions! Remember, there are no wrong answers!”

The REAL questions in my mind:

• “How might we survive this meeting?”

• “How might we get the CTO to take us seriously?”

• “How might we make it look like I know Design Thinking?”

What I actually write and stick on the wall:

“How might we leverage AI to enhance customer experience?”

Richard, our CTO, responds:

Richard: “This is good. Kate, you understand the technical requirements, right?”

What I think: NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT. I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING.

What I say: “Yes, of course.”

Lie count: 17 (and counting).

Workshop Moment #3: Creating User Personas

Bryce continues:

Bryce: “Team, who is our customer? Let’s create a persona together!”

We collaborate on this masterpiece:

Name: “Brian”

Age: 35

Job: “Busy professional”

Pain Points: “Wants fast customer service”

Goals: “Get answers quickly”

Depth of insight: 0/10. But it looks professional on the wall.

But in my head, I’m creating a different persona:

Name: Kate’s Inner Voice

Age: Exhausted

Job: Professional Imposter

Pain Points: Everything. Existing. This workshop.

Goals: Survive until 6pm without crying.

Monday Morning Standup: The Performance

Monday. First official day of the project. Morning standup.

Ben, our Scrum Master, goes around the table:

Ben: “Kate, what’s your status?”

What I say: “Everything’s on track. No blockers.”

What’s actually true: 

• BLOCKER: Crippling imposter syndrome

• BLOCKER: Haven’t slept more than 4 hours in weeks

• BLOCKER: Coffee stain on shirt (again)

• BLOCKER: No idea what I’m doing

But saying any of that would mean admitting I’m not the competent PM everyone thinks I am.

The Accidental Slack Message

Later that day, I’m working late (of course). Mei, our junior developer, accidentally sends me a Slack DM meant for someone else:

Mei: “Kate seems so strong and confident. I’m probably the only one who doesn’t know what they’re doing.”

Mei: “Oh no sorry wrong person! 😅”

I stare at the message.

She thinks I’m strong. Confident. She thinks she’s the only one struggling.

I want to tell her: “Mei, I’m barely holding it together. I’m terrified every single day. You’re not alone.”

But instead I type:

Me: “No worries! 😊”

Because being vulnerable would mean admitting I’m not the person she thinks I am.

My Google Search History at 2:47am

I can’t sleep. Again. So I google:

• “how to build AI chatbot”

• “design thinking is it real”

• “imposter syndrome at work”

• “coffee stain removal blazer”

• “how to say no to your boss”

That last search returns 16 million results. So I’m not alone. But I still feel alone.

she.work Community Saves the Day

At 3:14am, still awake, I open she.work Slack. It’s the only place I let myself be honest.

I type:

Me: “Starting a new project. Already drowning. Coffee stain on my only clean blazer. Send help.”

Within minutes:

Celine: “Put stain remover spray. Let it sit overnight. You got this. 💜”

Daphne: “Week 1 is always chaos. You’re not drowning, you’re treading water. There’s a difference.”

Christina: “Me too. Like, literally me too. Every project starts like this. You’re not alone.”

I cry. Relief tears. They get it.

The Text from Mom

Thursday evening. My phone buzzes.

Mom: “Sweetie, did you eat today?”

What’s true: Breakfast: coffee. Lunch: coffee. Dinner: will be coffee.

What I text back: “Yes mom, I ate. Don’t worry about me. Love you 💕”

I cry again. But not relief tears. Guilt tears.

Team morale:

• Mei: Thinks she’s the only one struggling

• Carlos: Confident (or faking it well)

• Me: Performing competence while internally screaming

• Richard: Blissfully unaware

Reality check: We have 7 sprints left and zero working code.

Friday night. My phone buzzes. Slack notification. Richard:

“Great kickoff this week, Kate. Sprint 1 starts Monday. Make sure the bot actually does something this time.”

Sprint 1. Where things are about to get much, much worse.

For You

Have you ever said yes when you meant no?

Have you performed confidence while crumbling inside?

Have you ever Googled ‘imposter syndrome’ at 2am and found 16 million people asking the same question?

If you’re reading this and nodding: you’re not alone.

This is Week 1 of my story. The week I said yes to everything. The week I performed strength I didn’t feel. The week I started a project that would eventually break me.

But here’s the thing about breaking: sometimes it’s the only way to rebuild better.

More next week.

Next week: The Shakespeare Bot Disaster, Working Until 1am, and the First Cracks in the Performance