I feel that I’m a failure as a researcher. That I have somehow managed to make it until now, but I will definitely not make it to the next step. Everyone around me is smarter, and I fear the day when they will discover that I’m a fraud. Should I quit?
Not necessarily. It sounds to me like you may be suffering from something so common, it even has a Wikipedia page. It’s called Impostor Syndrome, and it abounds in academic environments. If everyone around you (colleagues, mentors, funding agencies) finds you a good researcher, chances are it’s not you but your Impostor Syndrome that is the problem here.
Indeed, my colleagues seem to think highly of me. But I still feel like I’m no good. What can I do?
I see. What I recommend:
Talk to your colleagues about your Impostor Syndrome. Chances are, many of them feel the exact same way. It can really help to know that you are not alone, and to share the experiences and coping mechanisms that others are finding. It can also be useful to share these feelings with a mentor that you trust.
Be aware of the positivity bias. Well, I just checked and the internet tells me that the positivity bias is something else, but I don’t know of a better term. What I mean is that nobody puts their failures in their CVs, or publicizes them on social media. That intensifies the Impostor Syndrome, because it creates a knowledge gap. CVs contain only the positive outcomes from a typically large pool of attempts; so you are exposed to other people’s successes only, while you experience both your successes and your failures. This knowledge gap is something that Impostor Syndrome can easily feed on.
Relatedly, keep in mind that the neighbor’s grass is always greener. Here’s an exercise: exchange your CV with that of a colleague and talk about why the other person’s CV is obviously better. You’ll be surprised (really; I did that with a colleague who has an astronomic h-index, and she still insisted that my CV was better…).
This is starting to sound like I’m a bit daft…
Brilliant point! So, now I’m telling you that you’re stupid for thinking you’re stupid. No, you’re not stupid. Importantly, there are systemic reasons for you to feel like a fraud: Academia makes it very easy for Impostor Syndrome to creep in. Part of the reason is that working in research by definition means being constantly in touch with what you don’t know; and it’s difficult to be comfortable with not knowing. Another part, in my opinion, is that many people in academia were the smartest in their class, and we based much of our self-worth on that. And suddenly we’re thrown in with the smartest-in-all-the-classes-in-the-world. While this is actually very nice,* it can trigger all kinds of insecurities.
*I once read an interview with a Physicist who said she decided to stay in academia because she likes scientists; I am totally with her on that!
However, there’s another big part of the problem that is much uglier. Academia has evolved to be mega-competitive, and we are increasingly asked to reach increasingly unrealistic goals. This can make for a very unsettling environment (and, by the way, it incentivizes fraud, much like mega-competitiveness in sport incentivizes doping). We may feel like impostors because we can’t meet expectations that are impossible to meet in the first place. Luckily, there are many people who are realizing this problem and seeking solutions. And being aware of Impostor Syndrome and helping each other tackle it is a step towards that.
Sure, but this still sounds… not great. Is there any silver lining?
Yes! The silver lining is that it gets better over time, as you progress in your career and find that you can actually do stuff that you thought you wouldn’t be able to do. Like finishing a PhD. :) In my experience it doesn’t really go away completely, but it definitely gets easier.
Good to know, but is there anything else that can help me, as opposed to future me?
You can try the following:
Use a thermometer. Very important: monitor your Impostor Syndrome over time. Is it “merely” unpleasant, or is it preventing you from doing your research or otherwise having a significant impact on your life? In many cases, but especially in severe ones, what I’d recommend is to…
Consider therapy. There are therapeutic interventions that can really help, and can have positive effects not only with respect to Impostor Syndrome but also with respect to other possible issues related to it, like low self-esteem. There are many kinds of therapies and techniques, and it may take a while to find what works for you, so be patient and don’t give up at the first try.
But therapies are expensive.
Indeed, therapies cost money —and also time and energy. I’m afraid there’s no getting around the time and energy parts, but if you are tight on money there are plenty of resources on the internet that can help. And you can recycle skills that you anyway have as a researcher to guide you in this search (such as the ability to seek and synthesize information, critically appraise methods, and focus on evidence-based results). I include some specific tips in what follows.
First, identify your triggers. Do you feel like a fraud more often…
when you are in talks or at conferences? (This talk is so great. I’ll never be able to do something like this.)
in meetings? (I don’t deserve to be in this room.)
when you are reading articles? (I should know all this literature by now. What kind of scientist doesn’t read?)
when you are working alone? (If I’m stuck now, how am I going to finish the PhD?)
when you are on social media? (Brendan got Fancy Position X. No way I’m ever going to get something like that.)
Once you have a bit of a better diagnostic, try to devise methods to turn the volume down a notch. Some methods are situation-specific, and you can adapt them depending on what is most difficult for you. For instance:
If working alone is difficult, you can partner with a colleague and periodically check on each other (both regarding work and regarding well-being).
If it’s at group meetings, you can ask your supervisor not to ask you questions for a while, or let them know that you won’t intervene in the discussions.
If social media is taking the positivity bias from above and shouting it at you with a loudspeaker 24/7, maybe you can consider a break.
Other methods are more general in nature:
Delegating judgment to others. In a particularly bad period, I used to tell myself “if Louise, Katrin and Marco [all mentors and colleagues that I held in high esteem] think I’m ok, maybe I’m not that bad after all”.
Cultivating self-compassion. I first came across the concept of self-compassion in this article by Prof. Kristin Neff, which I still find a good summary of what self-compassion is and why it works. Basically, if when you do stuff there’s someone inside your head who is constantly putting you down, not only is it very unpleasant, but it also eats away at your motivation to do the relevant stuff. But it’s difficult to deal with this mini-you; it won’t go away just by wishing it to go away. I have found self-compassion to be helpful in dealing with it. It basically consists in coaching your mini-you into talking to you like you would talk to a friend: in a warm, caring, and supportive way. (Note: If this sounds weird and self-helpy to you, you’re not alone. But, hey, who’s the one with a mini-them in their head?)
I have also found it helpful to use a simple technique based on meditation (or, in its modern Westernized version, mindfulness): when Impostor Syndrome (or my mini-me more generally) hits, I try to stop and re-bring my focus to what I was doing, either directly or making a stop in the physical world. I’m in a talk? Breathe and then focus on understanding the next sentence or question. In a meeting? Feel my feet on the floor or my arms on the table and then return the attention to the meeting. Reading an article? Close my eyes briefly and then go back to reading. On social media? Well, that problem I don’t have because I’m a boomer and I’m not on social media. :P
And, last but not least, I highly recommend patience. It’s a long journey, and you need to make it one step at a time.
Thanks a lot for all this advice. But, see, my problem is that I don’t really have Impostor Syndrome. I am truly a fraud.
Aeh…
(Gentle pat on the back.)
[Disclaimer: This post expresses my opinion, based on years of experience, therapy, readings, and podcasts. Use at your own discretion. Written in June-September 2024, CC BY-NC.]