One of the most difficult transitions to grad school can be overcoming imposter syndrome. Do I deserve to be here? Everyone else is more interesting than I am, has better research experience, is a better writer than me. I remember looking around the room at orientation and feeling a pit in my stomach. They were going to find me out, escort me off campus grounds. Someone was going to ask: What are you doing here? During orientation, so many people bandied around the term “imposter syndrome.” But they didn’t realize that I truly was an imposter, an interloper, a pretender.

This kind of self-doubt can be spurred by any number of things. For me, it was the fact that I had been out of school for 3 years working dead end jobs to make my student loan payments. I hadn’t been asked to think critically, to write critically, or to do any of the heavy mental lift that graduate work requires in years. There was something about answer telephones and sending meaningless faxes all day that smashed my confidence and crushed my soul.

On top of this, I applied to PhD programs three times. Nobody wanted me. So, when I finally arrived at the University of Rochester, it felt like it couldn’t be real. I was older than other students coming fresh from undergrad. Sure, I had an MA under my belt already, but in a completely different discipline, and one that required hours in a practice room rather than presenting well-polished researched writing, let alone the need to say brilliant things on the fly in the seminar room.

I realized it didn’t matter how many people told me that I belonged. I needed to feel this for myself. In my mind, I needed to earn my admission all over again, beyond what I had already demonstrated through the application process. I ran myself ragged trying to prove to everyone—faculty and my peers—that I belonged in the classroom with them, that I could think thoughts. What did this look like, practically? I wrote 5 drafts of a short response paper I had to circulate and present to my seminar. I read everything assigned instead of skillfully skimming. In short, I did what I felt like I had to do to play “catch up” with everyone who hadn’t needed to take a break from academia.

In the end, what helped me overcome my imposter syndrome the most was the kind and thoughtful feedback I received from the academic community here. My peers were kind and respectful if they disagreed with something I said in class; professors were encouraging in their feedback on my papers; friends were kind enough to read drafts and comment on my work as I was relearning how to write academic papers.

Everyone’s journey with imposter syndrome will look different. It doesn’t make it feel any less real—the fear and butterflies in the stomach and nervous teeth chattering. But if you find a supportive academic community, it will make it somewhat bearable.

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