Always an Angel Never a God
February 14, 2024
Writer: Chloe Pehote
Editor: Alena Miklosovic
Imposter syndrome: experiencing dissonance related to the environments of which you occupy. More personally, or perhaps from a harsher perspective, feeling awkward or undeserving of existing as you are, where you are. When I decided to attend an academically rigorous university, I heeded the warnings of friends, family, and random strangers that “imposter syndrome is soooo real.” I begrudgingly accepted that I was never again going to feel like the smartest person in the room. Rather, I was going to be in rooms full of some of the smartest people in the world. Surprisingly, this was an easy pill to swallow, and I took this revelation as an opportunity to motivate myself to perform better, study harder, and pay more attention to my academics. What I was not prepared for was the undefined sensation of being second fiddle socially–a background character to my prettier, more outgoing, and more entertaining peers.
While I suppose that this was something I was always aware of to some extent, and I would not change my decision for the world, this insecurity was spotlighted through my decision to join a social sorority the second semester of my freshman year. The newfound “sisterhood” brought unforeseen comparison among women I was learning how to love.The worst part of it all was that none of the instances in which I was made to feel this impending sense of shame and discomfort were brought upon me with malicious intent. Rather, it was often the casual, everyday comments and occasions that left me bitter, empty, and insecure.
After a whole year of college, I began to resent the way my “average” disposition made me feel like I was constantly falling short. In comparison to my friends, I was never the friend who was thought of when someone needed to be set up for a date party–I was not fun or spontaneous enough. I was rarely regarded as “so unbelievably funny” or “f-ing awesome,” while my other friends fit that description a little bit better. It was uncommon that a guy my friend would introduce me to at a party would remember my name, and yet he was able to remember my friends. Even when I was at my peak, I was hyper-aware of the fact that I was still second fiddle to some of my friends. My “best” fell pale in comparison to theirs. As I overcompensated in an attempt to keep up with the prominent personalities of my best friends, the anxiety of coming off as tacky and obnoxious swelled like a pit in my stomach. I admired them to such great capacity and yet loathed the fact that I felt so insignificant when I was around them.
I wish I could resolve this article by describing some grand resolution that helped me cope with this anxiety. But to be frank, that would be a lie. I love my friends more than anything. And yet there are times when I hate how the admiration I have for them and their best attributes makes me feel about myself. I resent the fact that there are parts about me that–even at their best–fall short. I hate feeling like a secondary character to the storylines of my friends' lives. And yet if there is anything that brings me any comfort, I am thankful for the fact that I have friends great enough to admire and know that this imposter syndrome does not define me.
