I’m fooling you.
At least I hope I am. I’m equally anxious about both possibilities, that I’m fooling you, and that I’m failing at it.
So what’s the grand deception? Well, I’ve fooled you into thinking that I know what’s going on. The truth is, I have no clue what’s going on. But you don’t know that. Or maybe you do, and you’re onto me, and I should be incredibly embarrassed.
If these thoughts feel all too familiar to you, you may have experienced imposter syndrome. Imposter syndrome describes the feeling of unworthiness that can arise in a workplace, or an academic or social setting. It’s the feeling that everyone else deserves to be there, but not you. Somehow you slipped through the cracks, and now you have to fake it, and hope nobody finds out.
For me, imposter syndrome has always manifested itself as a sort of mental Temple Run. Every time I find myself in a new, higher position, or in a new, more difficult class, I feel like I’m outrunning a crumbling pathway of my own inadequacies. The second I start, I’m already behind, with a rookie mistake or a case of poor time management nipping at my heels. I look around at the people I’m with, my peers, and wonder if they notice how unqualified I am, or if I’m successfully masking it. I try my best to hide it behind a facade of confidence, but more often than not, I’m brushing it aside with a self deprecating comment. If everyone thinks I’m a fraud, I would much rather be in on the joke.
Imposter syndrome is a terrible feeling to have! It’s one of those anxieties that gnaw at the pit of your stomach, that can simply bug you one day, and leave you crying in a library bathroom stall the next. Nobody has ever told me I’m not good enough or smart enough. But constantly telling myself that I’m not enough, and that I have to be on constant guard to make sure nobody else discovers my deep, dark secret, is draining.
Overcoming this feeling is easier said than done. I struggle with it everyday, and as a white woman often working in white woman-dominated spaces, I can’t imagine how much more difficult it would be if I looked around, and didn’t see anyone like me, further confirming my fear that I didn’t belong. “Just believe in yourself” is advice that tends to come without instructions. How are you supposed to believe in yourself when you don’t have a guide to follow, someone who took the same path and faced the same struggles as you? How am I supposed to believe in myself when I bear constant witness to my own mistakes?
I don’t have the answer. It helps to remember that you are your own worst critic, but learning to be more kind to yourself, and more forgiving of your own mistakes, is a difficult process. I think that surrounding yourself with people who uplift you is a step in the right direction. Everyday, I’m thankful to have supportive friends who believe in me when I can’t believe in myself. If you don’t have people like that, just know that I’m here, cheering you on.
Yours truly,
Megan
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