It was in high school that my imposter syndrome first bloomed. Each morning, fully dressed, my mod neck scarf tied just so, my tight bell-bottom jeans hugging my behind, I would sit down and eat a bowl of Cap’n Crunch cereal. Five minutes later, my nerves would take over and attack my stomach. Without anyone realizing that I was having a panic attack, least of all myself, I would quietly go to the bathroom and throw up several times before reemerging.
Imposter Syndrome
