Let’s talk about imposter syndrome, shall we? That persistent, nagging voice that tells you, “You’re not good enough,” or “Everyone else is miles ahead while you’re stumbling in the dark.” Sound familiar? Whether you’ve been coding for years or just started yesterday, imposter syndrome is like an annoying bug in the back of your mind. But here’s the thing—comparing yourself to others isn’t just unhelpful, it’s downright absurd. It’s like comparing a cup of tea to a jet engine. Sure, they both exist, but they were never meant to be in the same category.

You see, every developer walks their own path, complete with different experiences, thought processes, and even coding styles. So, when you compare yourself to someone else, you’re not seeing the whole story. You’re comparing the behind-the-scenes of your journey with someone else’s highlight reel. And that just leads to frustration and self-doubt.

Apples to Cosmic Horror: The Futility of Comparison

Early in my development days, I spent so much time in awe of other people’s projects. I’d look at someone’s clean, efficient code and feel like an absolute fraud. I mean, their code looked like something out of a pristine textbook while mine resembled a chaotic pile of noodles. “How do they do that?” I’d think, certain that I’d missed some crucial programming secret.

But what I’ve learned over time is that comparing yourself to someone else is pointless. It’s like comparing apples to Cthulhu—completely unrelated and fundamentally incompatible. Every coder has different experiences and different interests. Some people have a knack for elegant, minimalist code, while others thrive in solving complex, messy problems. And honestly, it’s all valid.

The only comparison that matters? You versus the you of yesterday. Did you make progress today? Did you learn something new, no matter how small? That’s the real metric of success.

The Cringe-Worthy Projects of the Past

Now, let me tell you a story about one of my old Python projects—a combinator parser I wrote. This thing was an absolute monstrosity. I thought I was being clever, constructing this intricate web of logic that could parse anything (or so I thought). But in reality, I had created a monster—an overengineered, overly complex mess that only I could understand. Looking back on it now, I cringe so hard I’m surprised my face doesn’t get stuck that way.

At the time, though, I was proud. I had managed to get it to work, but it was brittle, confusing, and had so many unnecessary layers of complexity. Debugging it was like trying to untangle a knot made out of spaghetti code—and honestly, it was a prime example of what happens when you try to be too clever. That project is now a bookmark in my coding history, not because it was a shining success, but because it taught me what not to do.

The Value in Cringe: Proof of Progress

Here’s the thing: I cringe because I’ve grown. I can look back at that project and clearly see everything I did wrong. That’s a good thing. It means I’ve learned better ways since then. If I were still writing code the way I did back then, I’d have a real problem. The cringe-worthy moments are actually milestones, evidence that I’ve levelled up as a developer.

And it’s not just that combinator parser. I’ve had so many moments where I’ve revisited old Python scripts and immediately wanted to throw my laptop out the window. I see variables with names like “x1” and functions that do about 15 things at once. I see how I made things far more complex than they needed to be. But all that discomfort means I’ve improved. Growth is in the cringe.

The Only Comparison That Matters: You vs. Yesterday

Imposter syndrome thrives on comparison, but you can’t measure yourself against anyone else. The only person you should be comparing yourself to is the person you were yesterday. Are you making progress? Even if it’s small, that’s enough. Over time, those tiny improvements add up, and before you know it, you’re miles ahead of where you started.

Next time you feel like you’re not good enough or you’re miles behind everyone else, ask yourself: “Am I better today than I was yesterday?” If the answer is yes—even in the smallest way—you’re doing just fine. That’s the real progress bar that matters.

Lessons From the Cringe

Every cringe-worthy project, every overly complex combinator parser, every piece of code that makes you wince when you look back on it—those are your teachers. They show you how far you’ve come, how much you’ve learned, and most importantly, that you’re always improving.

The best developers are the ones who can look at their old work and recognize the mistakes. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about growing. Each mistake, each refactor, each cringe is a step forward. So, embrace it. If you’re cringing, you’re learning.

Keep Cringing, Keep Growing

Imposter syndrome will always try to convince you that you’re behind, but remember: your only competition is who you were yesterday. Each day you learn something new, fix a bug, or refactor an old project, you’re progressing. That’s what matters.

So, the next time you feel like an imposter, take a moment to reflect on your journey. Look at where you started and where you are now. Sure, there are cringe-worthy moments, but that’s just proof you’re levelling up. Every time you wince at your old work, remember: that’s growth.

And trust me, one day you’ll look back at what you’re writing today, and yep—you’ll cringe all over again. And that’ll be the best feeling in the world.

You’ve got this, cringes and all!