This week, I wrote my first article as managing editor. It was in the section I worked in for two years; it was simple event coverage of the Nicholas Kristof lecture on Sept. 19 — something so familiar to me. Still, when I got edits back from Colin Houston, news editor — bless them — there were multiple comments about editorializing (inserting my opinion in a piece meant to be purely factual). It sent me into a spiral for a few hours. How could I have worked for this paper for two years and still slip up on something so simple? How could I not be unconsciously aware of my editorializing and still have this job?

This feeling is familiar to many at Trinity University, I’m sure. I’ve seen the posters around campus. I’ve heard my friends refuse to ask their peers questions about something they “should’ve already known.” We’ve all dealt with feeling like an imposter in our fields, and we all know the way it makes us freeze up.

For me and for everyone I’ve spoken to about it, the feeling arises when that shame is triggered by a mistake. It makes us feel worthless. We account for every single thought that somebody else could have about our mistake. If I accidentally editorialized in my article, is Colin thinking that I’m an incompetent managing editor? If I ask a peer to remind me of a central concept in chemistry, will they think I’m stupid throughout the rest of the class? 

The solution to this feeling seems to be the simple reassurance that you are where you are because you belong there. I’m not arguing against this: I think that remembering the work you’ve done to get to where you are is helpful and important. However, I think that ignoring the feeling entirely is a mistake. I strongly believe that you can learn and improve yourself from every experience, even if it feels like it serves no purpose, and dealing with the infamous “imposter syndrome” is no exception.

Shutting down the feeling immediately by reminding yourself that you are where you should be isn’t enough. It rules out any possibility of improving. It may make you consider going to ask that question about chemistry, but you’ll never consider why you’re feeling that way.

Being aware of the feeling — knowing what causes it, knowing what it’s actually trying to tell you — is what will actually make a difference. I’m not telling you to ruminate on the paranoid beliefs of what other people are thinking about you. Consider what it means to you, though. It could simply be that you don’t have the level of self-worth you’d like to. It could also signify, though, that I need to be on higher alert when I’m writing to avoid editorializing or that I need to brush up on the basic concepts of chemistry. Either way, there’s more to do than only telling yourself that you are good enough.

Remember that you are where you are because you worked hard to get there; and that should always be the first step when you feel like you don’t deserve to be there. To improve, though, you need to really consider the question you’re asking yourself when you feel like that. Don’t make it bigger than it really is. It doesn’t mean all the work you’ve done means nothing. But don’t push it aside: the feeling is significant of something. Find out what it is.