I Didn’t Plan on Working in Sound
I was a quiet kid for the most part, and up until I was eight, I thought country music was the only music out there. You could say other genres felt like a drug once I found them. I cherished the afternoons scrambling through my friends’ Green Day CDs. I was an avid watcher of shows like Hannah Montana and Victorious, even though I was always “too shy” to sing or play guitar in front of other people. I didn’t grow up believing the stage was a place I belonged. I never thought I was good enough to be on it, yet I still found myself heading towards it.
When it came time for college, I didn’t have the clearest plan. I loved theater in high school, so I gravitated toward stage management. This felt like a way to stay close to music without needing to be in the spotlight. Stage management gave me structure, responsibility, and taught me the value of communication. Over time, that closeness I felt turned into curiosity, and sound became less of a mystery and more of a language I wanted to learn. If I could manage casts of fifty+ people, surely I could manage myself as a musician too… right? I worked in theater for eight years, constantly asking myself these questions. I knew I felt my best surrounded by music.
Any second I could, I got my hands on the soundboard, jumped at every chance to sound design, and even began singing lessons. For some reason, something still felt like it was missing. Why didn’t I believe in myself? And why was it so serious to me?
Showing Up Without All the Answers
Once I started to spend more time working in audio, I realized how quickly self-doubt can surface when your responsibility increases. Mixing a show requires you to move fast, and there isn’t always time to second guess yourself. I was often learning workflows, terminology, and expectations in real time (sometimes while already being asked to execute them.)
Imposter syndrome became my best friend. It showed up when I was trusted with more, not less. When I was behind the board making decisions that affected an entire room, I learned quickly that confidence doesn’t arrive before experience, but lags behind it. There were moments when I questioned whether I belonged in the room at all, even as I was actively doing the work.
What helped was realizing that uncertainty and incompetence are not the same thing. Not knowing everything didn’t mean I wasn’t capable; it meant I was still building trust. There was no reason to “fake it till you make it,” when I needed to “face it till you make it.” Each show, new recording session, every small win added to a growing sense of trust, not just from others, but within myself.
Over time, I stopped waiting to feel ready and focused instead on staying present. I learned that showing up, listening closely, and doing the work consistently mattered more than projecting confidence. The answers came slowly, through repetition, responsibility, and learning to trust my ears even when my self-belief hadn’t caught up yet.
I Was More Prepared Than I Thought
The longer I worked as an audio engineer, the more I recognized how much my background had already prepared me for it. Stage management taught me how to communicate, anticipate problems, and stay calm when things didn’t go as planned. Those skills translated directly to audio work, where timing, collaboration, and decision making matter just as much.
I began to understand that listening is truly a learned skill. Hearing balance, space, and intention doesn’t happen instantly, it develops through repetition and attention. Confidence followed slowly, not as a sudden shift, but through small moments where things worked because I had prepared and trusted my judgment. Every new production technique, every clean vocal take, reinforced the idea that I was capable of doing this work, even if I didn’t always feel certain while doing it. And slowly but surely, I felt my eight-year-old self reflecting back to me in the music and art I was beginning to create for myself.
Imposter Syndrome
I don’t think imposter syndrome ever fully disappears. It honestly felt debilitating for a long time. What changes is how much power you give it. For me, the most effective way to manage has been through practice, showing up, doing the work, and letting results speak louder than internal doubt.
There have been moments during soundchecks and sessions where I had to make a call based on what I was hearing (or feeling,) even when I couldn’t fully articulate the reasoning yet. Over time, I realized those decisions weren’t guesses. They were built on accumulated experience, taste, pattern recognition, and careful listening. Intuition, especially in sound, is often the body responding faster than the mind can explain…trust your ears!
Not every decision I’ve made has been right. Some have missed the mark. But each one sharpened my ears and strengthened my ability to respond with confidence the next time.
Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me Sooner
- You don’t need to feel confident to do great work.
- Asking questions is part of professionalism, not a weakness.
- Your ears improve with time, repetition, and exposure.
- Practice makes progress, and progress is rarely linear.
- Comparison often amplifies doubt without improving skill.
- Consistency builds trust, with others and with yourself.
Some of the most meaningful growth as a technician and artist happens quietly, without validation.
Watching Other Women Do the Thing
A significant amount of my learning has come from watching other women navigate with confidence and clarity, both in person and online. Seeing how they communicate, advocate for their choices, and lead sessions has been just as impactful as any formal training. Seeing women hold authority in technical and creative roles made it easier to imagine myself doing the same.
In this video of Lizzy McAlpine, you can see her struggle with imposter syndrome throughout the entire process, openly questioning her decisions and abilities even as she demonstrates a high level of skill and professionalism. Watching her work through that uncertainty with herself and her band was reassuring, as it highlighted that confidence and self-doubt often coexist as a creative. Seeing Lizzy articulate her fears while continuing to create only reinforced the idea that feeling unsure does not mean you are unqualified; it means you are human.
Always Learning, Still Listening
I’m still early in my career, and it’s okay to not have everything figured out. Imposter syndrome is a constant battle. What I can claim is a growing trust in my ears and a better understanding of how to move forward alongside doubt instead of waiting for it to disappear. If you’re early in your journey and waiting to feel ready before taking up space, you’re not alone. Readiness often comes after you learn to step out of your comfort zone. Remember, practice makes progress! And most importantly, have fun.