I have been infected by impostor syndrome often when I was a kid. I was a clean slate. I was novice, innocent and unaware of the world. I used to believe what other says. I used to trust what friends says. I used to imprint everything positive or negative on my subconscious mind. Those memories are still fresh to me as if they happened last night.
When I was a kid, I loved to play, dance, paint, make friends and praised. I never knew that color could be so important to one till other kids started mocking at me. Not only kids, but also their moms used to make fun of me. It doesn’t ends there; they used to talk to me about the kind of husband I would get. They used to say I will get some dark, fatty, short guy. They were never bothered how it could hurt a young mind. As I was young I was not that bothered about these stuffs but my mom was. She used to apply different kind of face packs on me. On the top of that I was blessed with severe acne. My face was full of that. With god grace these hormonal disasters happened to me when I started understanding the color based beauty. I wasn’t bothered much by the kids, but it had hurt me most when my teachers stopped me from participating in dance programs. As per them I would not look beautiful on stage. I was dark and blessed with pimples.
Thanks to these great people in my life I was affected by the impostor syndrome. I was low and sad. I didn’t realize that beauty comes from confidence. I never realized that I got height and sharp features, which never can be attained. I subdued the fact that I got dancing foot and can amaze one with that. Over the time, I stopped attending parties, going to navratri garbas and shake a boot. I turned from fearless lioness to tamed one. I believed them and dismissed all the qualities I had. I stopped participating in cultural activities and programs believing that one need to have a good face.
I have been affected by the syndrome till I was in second year of college. Then a special friend came to my life. She started showing me the possessions I had. She showed me my real image. By then I was unaware of the beauty I always had. Her anecdote worked for me and still working. Now people call me beautiful. And my husband found me most beautiful. Those aunties were astonished then and now too, because I got a fair, handsome, tall and muscular man…
If you are low, it’s just the impostor syndrome; you just need an anecdote of love and care to cure it.