The people we surround ourselves with shape who we are and how we move through the world. When you are surrounded by talented, intelligent and hardworking people, it can be easy to overlook your own strengths and feel intimidated in some capacity. In college, there are so many different opportunities and paths to take, and it can be easy to look around and feel like other people have it all figured out.
Imposter syndrome is the belief that one’s success is not deserved, overlooking your skills, efforts and accomplishments. When someone experiences impostor syndrome, they experience repeated feelings or thoughts that they are not good enough, despite evidence to the contrary.
Imposter syndrome can have serious consequences for one’s self-worth and mental health, and it can be difficult to overcome those negative thought patterns. Research shows that women are more likely to experience it than men, based on gender expectations and societal factors, even when they are meeting quotas and expectations.
Recognizing impostor syndrome is one thing, but overcoming it is another challenge entirely. It often manifests in self-doubt, having achievements feel like flukes rather than the result of effort and ability. For me, this feeling was not just a passing thought but a constant undercurrent, particularly in my first years at SLU.
Like many students, I entered college eager but unsure of my path, surrounded by peers who seemed to navigate their ambitions with confidence. I second-guessed my place in leadership roles, questioned whether I truly deserved academic recognition and hesitated to own my successes.
However, as time went on, I realized that my growth was not accidental. It was built through dedication, resilience and the support of those around me, and it was okay to be proud of that. Doubt can turn into growth, and it is never too late to start intentionally building yourself up.
My time at SLU has been filled with discovery of both the world around me, as well as self-discovery. But that discovery was not always easy. I spent a long time feeling like I had something to prove, measuring my worth by comparing myself to others rather than reflecting on my personal growth. It was not until I saw the people around me reflecting my strengths back at me that I started to believe in them myself.
When I was a copy editor last year, during a late-night editing session for The University News, I caught a major error just before we sent an issue to print. As I flagged it to the team, someone offhandedly said, “We would be lost without you.” It was a small comment, said in the middle of a chaotic newsroom, but it stuck with me.
For so long, I had seen myself as just trying to keep up, but here was proof that I was doing more than just keeping up: I was contributing, leading and making a real impact. There have been many moments like that over the last two years that have solidified my confidence in myself and my abilities.
That shift in perspective carried into my leadership roles. I stopped hesitating before speaking up in meetings, started trusting my instincts and learned to own my successes instead of attributing them to luck. Whether I was overseeing Her Campus, organizing speaker events for the Great Issues Committee or mentoring students, I began to see how my work mattered — not just to me, but to the people around me.
Winning the Spirit of the Billiken Award, a senior achievement award recognizing involvement, service, leadership and academic excellence, was a moment that forced me to recognize how far I had come, from questioning my place to embracing my impact. If you had told my freshman-year self — the one struggling to keep up academically, battling imposter syndrome and questioning if she belonged here — that this moment was in my future, I would not have believed you. But here I am, on the other side of four years that have challenged me, shaped me and, ultimately, shown me what I am capable of.
The community I found during college was instrumental in helping me overcome impostor syndrome. Seeing the people I admired look up to me, celebrate my successes and trust my leadership capabilities helped me do the same for myself. Like many other young people, I came into college feeling somewhat like an observer, but I am leaving knowing that I played a role in shaping the spaces I was part of.
Leaving is bittersweet. I am excited for the future and looking forward to my next adventure. I also feel deep gratitude for the lessons, friendships and moments of growth that have shaped me. More than anything, I am grateful for the confidence I have built — the ability to recognize my success and to take up space without apology.
When I graduate in May, I hope that the luck of the Billiken stays with me forever. But even more than luck, I hope I carry forward the lessons I have learned: to trust myself, to celebrate my achievements and to remember that I belong.