It’s no secret that I suffer from a severe case of Imposter Syndrome.

I’ve written quite extensively about how my Imposter Syndrome often presents itself; perched on my shoulder like that little demonic lizard I read about in CS Lewis’ The Great Divorce, amplifying all of my deepest insecurities in my mind as I go about my daily life. 

The good news is, I know that my Imposter Syndrome is stupid and full of shit. Even better, I’m working my ass off to combat it by speaking truth to lies. For instance, every time I’m at college and think, “I don’t belong here.”, I can immediately stop that thought before it spirals into a full-blown existential crisis by saying aloud, “I do, in fact, belong at college.”

My Imposter Syndrome may never go away until some fifty-eyed elohim rips it off my shoulder when I die, but that doesn’t mean I’m completely hopeless against it until then. Like Cystic Fibrosis, Imposter Syndrome is just something I have to fight against. And, like Cystic Fibrosis, I have a lot of ways to successfully bring it to heel. 

Still, the question remains, “Where did my Imposter Syndrome come from?”, because Imposter Syndrome is shockingly not something everyone has. The answer to that question, at least for me, is simple: childhood trauma. Lots and lots of childhood trauma. 

Actually… that’s not entirely where my Imposter Syndrome comes from. It also comes from the society in which I live, and how it’s portrayed in the media. In other words, even my autistic, redneck, social-media-free ass ain’t immune to social pressure. 

For the record, I like who I am and who I’m becoming, and I’ve accepted ages ago that I’ll forever be a bit… eccentric… and that’s perfectly okay. Even so, I am still painfully aware of just how weird I am, and how out-of-place I am when compared to everyone else. 

Worse, I am well aware of how people often perceive me, and those perceptions aren’t always great. 

For example, before I even started college, my grandma Debbie took me to ACC to drop off my high school transcripts, so I could skip the placement tests and get right into college. When I handed my transcripts to the grumpy college administrator who immediately told me I didn’t have to worry about taking any remedial courses, my grandma Debbie remarked, “See? You’re smarter than you look!”, and the college administrator nodded, “Yes you are!”

Now, my grandma Debbie was just joking with me. The college administrator, however, was dead fucking serious, and didn’t even crack a hint of a smile the whole time we were interacting with her. This interaction pretty much gave my Imposter Syndrome a bullhorn, and it’s been haunting me ever since. 

On the surface, it’s quite hilarious. But, it certainly speaks to a lot of the Imposter Syndrome I’ve felt about college since starting it. After all, I really don’t fit into the “studious student” stereotype by any means. I blend into my surroundings a lot better when I’m in the hunting section at Walmart asking for $60 worth in .243 rounds on a Friday morning, vs when I’m at college surrounded by professionally dressed, pointy headed students and professors. And because of that, I do notice that people treat me quite differently until I accidentally say something shockingly intelligent on the first day of class, promoting me to the “Professor’s Pet.”

Then, as the semester wears on and the grades start rolling in, many of my peers will approach me and say something along the lines of, “I’m surprised you think that evolution is true, because when I first saw you, I thought you’d be one of those people.”, which is something a student in my Philosophy course actually told me over the summer. In that particular case, a Philosophy peer thought that I would turn out to be some conservative evangelical, and was surprised when I opened my mouth and made it clear that I was not one of “those people.”

Similarly, most recently in my Psychology class, I arrived with a container of sushi from the grocery store for a late lunch, and the classmate who sits beside me (a nursing student) said, “I’m surprised you like sushi.”

“Why’s that?” I asked as I used chopsticks to stuff my face with tuna rolls.

“Because you never struck me as a very… uhhh… cultured person. I was wrong.”

For the record, these interactions haven’t really offended me. They’re way more funny than they are offensive. But, I still occasionally let myself dissect those interactions and figure out what makes me stand out so much, and why I don’t feel like I belong anywhere near higher education. And, as far as I can tell, the fact that I wear camo every day is only the very tippy top of that iceberg.  

Thankfully, I’m not the only person who has ever felt insecure about this particular subject. Awhile back (whenever my birthday was), I got two books that I finally got around to reading starting a few weeks ago: Educated by Tara Westover, and Hillbilly Elegy by JD Vance. Both of these books were written by people who’ve been in my shoes before, and there were parts in both books that sounded like something I'd write. 

Westover grew up with a crazy prepper family in the middle of nowhere Idaho, and ended up getting a PhD from Cambridge university. Vance grew up in an Appalachia shithole with an absent dad and druggie mom, and ended up going to Yale Law school. Both authors have written extensively about how out-of-place they felt in college, and both of their accounts felt very relatable to me. Almost (but not quite) as relatable as Jay Gironimi’s Can’t Eat, Can’t Breathe, and Other Ways Cystic Fibrosis Has Fucked Me, but still very relatable nonetheless.

All that said, I’m still very much enjoying my time at college, even if I sometimes get unfairly judged by my peers and professors (in a non-bullying way that is, if that makes sense). I like the diversity of people and ideas that I’m exposed to every time I arrive on campus. I enjoy the academic challenges presented to me in college (even if learning Chicago manual for the first time made me want to throw my laptop out the fucking window). And, I will admit, I really like disproving people’s knee-jerk reactions towards me. The looks on some of those people’s faces once they realize that their assumptions about me were completely wrong, are priceless. 

Plus, my confidence and hope for the future have really only improved since I stepped into my Astronomy class for the first time in the fall of 2021. Sure, I still hold an overall pessimistic (and downright nihilistic) view on most things. I still fear things like calculus and picking an actual major for once, like I fear porcelain dolls and carpeted bathrooms. And, I’m not a people-person by any stretch of the imagination. 

But, so far, college has been truly enjoyable for me; it evokes the same feelings I have towards hunting and off-roading. It sucks major fucking ass in the moment a lot of the time. But there are moments of awe and bliss while one’s going through that hell, and there’s almost always a massive reward in the end (meat for the freezer, sore muscles, great stories, knowledge, confidence, life-altering experiences, etc). 

Since starting college in the Fall of 2021, I have made immense progress both in my personal and academic life. I went from having zero confidence in myself or my academic abilities, to realizing (and accepting) that I’m definitely a lot smarter than I look. I can hold my own in college extremely well, despite still having iffy study habits (such as, playing Minecraft on my phone while listening to recorded lectures on my laptop), and chugging caffeinated soda in class like my cousins chug their beer and whiskey at family get-togethers. 

Yet, both my peers and professors alike come to respect and admire me very quickly, because I’m one of those students who sits in the front of the class and blurts out nearly every question and answer that comes to mind without a second thought. While looking like I’d just emerged from the woods after chasing wildlife with my camera, wearing my chewed-up cowboy boots and paint-stained camo hoodies. 

There is a dichotomy here; one that triggers my Imposter Syndrome and anxiety regularly. Though, it’s damn near impossible to put into words. 

On one hand, I’m a college student (a very good one, too, at least according to my grades). I’m enrolled at Arapahoe Community College, twenty or so minutes from Downtown Denver, and I’m seriously considering going to a university after getting my associates. I attend every class (unless I have a doctor’s appointment or I’m not feeling well, in which case, I’ll literally study on the shitter if I have to), complete every assignment as soon as possible, and am on the Dean’s List. All without too much effort on my part. 

To prevent myself from burning out, I don’t study too hard (I study a maximum of two hours per day, but I usually study for 15-30 minutes a day). And when I am studying, I usually have Minecraft opened up on my phone, or a painting to work on nearby, so I can keep my brain relaxed while I’m studying (if that makes sense). I go to bed no later than 11:00 PM and am up-and-at-em by 8:00 every morning. I take things slowly in the morning; I don’t even think about my list of to-do’s till I’m dressed, brushed, fed, and have gone on my morning walk/hike (or have done at least 30 minutes of exercise on my elliptical if the weather’s too shitty). I never cram or neglect my needs for the sake of college, nor do I beat myself up if I get a bad grade (which happens to all of us). And… well… I’m still doing phenomenally well! How is that possible?! 

On the other hand, I’m an outsider. I don’t relate to my peers very well, and no matter how many social groups, get-togethers, and other non-formal on-campus events I attend, I just don’t quite fit in with my peers. I don’t fit in with my professors, either. Sure, they like me and give me good grades and all that. But, I don’t see myself as “academic material”, if that makes sense. Why do I say that?

I can’t stand the professionalism or the politics I’m often confronted with in college (such as those formal rewards ceremonies and Dean’s List dinners I’m often invited to, but never attend. I don’t even have business casual clothes, let alone business formal ones. My list of reasons for why that’s the case is miles long). 

Some professors (and many peers) also have a certain aura of arrogance and disdain for people I relate to (and sometimes even identify with), that just… rubs me the wrong way. There’s just something about the way people sometimes look at and treat me that just feels… patronizing… and… contemptuous… for lack of better terms. And the fact that they treat me differently after I’ve proven to them that I’m a good student, also says a lot. 

So, is it still hard to see why I struggle with my identity as a college student? Why I find it much harder to accept an “A” grade than an “F” grade? Why the mere thought of being considered a college student sometimes makes me want to hide in my basement den and never come out? Why I struggle to reconcile my culture (for lack of better words), with the culture of academia, even though I’m doing just that now?

To answer this, I’ve turned to looking at my family history. After all, I was raised by these people, which means they probably influenced me a lot too. And, like mine, my parents', grandparents', great-grandparents', etc. childhoods were all pretty damn rough and traumatic, to say the least. 

On my paternal side, my dad’s generation is the first one to go to college. My aunt was the first in the family to get a degree (a two year associate’s), and my dad was the second one of the family to get his associate’s in business (my uncle Wade took over the family farm, and my uncle Wes went to a trade school to learn how to build computer parts. For some reason, I wrongly thought my uncle Wes had an engineering degree, but he only has a high paying skill). 

On my maternal side, my family’s more educated, but I still wouldn't consider them to be "academic". My grandpa Lyle went to a university where he got a Master’s in Psychology (but he never used it, as construction and the phone company paid more than a job in Psychology did at the time). And my grandma Debbie was the first person in her family to graduate high school, and also the first person to get a degree (a nursing degree from Arapahoe Community College). As far as I know, most of my great aunts and uncles also went to college (my great uncle Gary, who lives in Seattle, got a Master’s in Physics and worked as an aerospace engineer for Boeing). 

When I was born, my mom was finishing up her Bachelor’s degree in Social Sciences at Metro State University, but being a full-time social worker didn’t pay the bills nor offer the flexibility she needed to keep me alive. So, she got into Real Estate (to become a Real Estate agent, one must only pass the licensing exam, which my mom apparently aced her first try). 

Needless to say, my family is... well... my family.

My family culture runs deep in my veins. I am proud of my heritage (which basically boils down to fleischkuekle, herefords, and hunting, but still). And I love hanging out with my family back in the midwest. I have way more in common with my uncle Wes (who is a bit of a right-wing conspiracy nut, to say the least), than I do with the people I regularly run into on my college campus. And I worry that chasm will only widen as I progress in my education.

For the record, I'm not a right-wing conspiracy nut, even though I might look and act the part. I'm not a full-blown leftist either, though I do lean left politically. But, we live in a world where nuance is basically dead, which may be playing a part in my Imposter Syndrome. Because I don't perfectly fit into a stereotype or whatever's popular these days, and I grew up being bullied for not fitting in (or doing the fucking math right), I rarely feel like I truly belong anywhere. I'm just an oddball. An outsider. Dare I say, an outcast. 

There's nothing inherently wrong with being a weirdo who doesn't fit in anywhere. If we lived in a truly cookie-cutter world, where everyone looked and acted exactly the same, there'd be no progress; indeed, we'd still be living in trees and eating ticks off each other's backs like every other primate out there. But, I can't deny that being... well... me, is often hard, because it's very lonely and uncertain. And, I often get judged very harshly (more harshly than most), by people who know next to nothing about me. 

Why do I say that?

If it weren’t for the snide comments from students and faculty alike (such as the “smarter than you look” incident), I wouldn’t believe my gut instincts as much. I mean… I have pretty severe self-esteem issues, which can very easily warp my view of reality. But, even my grandma Debbie saw, first hand, how people viewed me as a college student when I first dropped off my transcripts. And my mom has spent years and years warning about how other people may perceive me based on superficial shit. As much as society chants, “Don’t judge a book by its cover!”, it does an awful lot of judging books by their covers. And, I think that needs to change. 

Still, I’m becoming tempted to run a social experiment of sorts. Apparently, wearing a black turtleneck makes you look more intelligent, and people will treat you as such. If I were to cake my face in makeup and wear much more stylish clothes, people would also treat me differently (I was gonna say “with more respect”, but then I remembered all of the cat-callers out there). Hell, if I just worked on my resting bitch face, people would likely approach me more often (not that I’d really appreciate that, though). 

However, do I really want to torture myself superficially to gain the superficial “respect” from other people? Do I really want to “play the game” as they say, and force myself to be and act like someone I’m not? Could I even do that, or would people pick up on my differences anyway?

Well… truth is, I’ve tried to do just that in the past. Several of the schools I grew up attending required students to wear uniforms (or, at the very least, had very strict dress codes). Even though I looked like everyone else, people still treated me very differently (in fact, the school I literally got bullied out of required all students to wear a super strict uniform). Why? Because it’s really not about my looks. I can look just like everyone else, but people will still treat me differently. I can’t tell you why people treat me differently no matter how I present myself. They just do, and I’m just gonna have to accept it. 

Now the question becomes, “How do I go about accepting myself for who I am, and embracing all of the parts that make me… well… me?”

Well… I’m already doing that in many ways. For one, I try very hard not to take things personally. Instead, I try to look at the world through an inquisitive lens by asking myself questions like, “Why might’ve this grumpy, old college administrator seriously agreed with my grandma’s joking statement?”, “Why was my classmate shocked to find out that I like sushi?”, “Where does the stereotype of the idiot, reactionary redneck originate from, and how might I help to dispel that?”, and fearlessly exploring them. In other words, instead of getting upset over other peoples’ snap judgements of me, maybe I can learn a thing or two from those incidents, and come away a better, more knowledgeable person.

Perhaps, people will learn a thing or two from me as well, and also come away better, more knowledgeable, and far less judgmental people, too. I get that people are inherently judgmental both towards themselves and others. We will never fully solve the issues brought onto human civilization by our tribalistic ways. But, as cliche as this sounds, we can get closer and closer to a perfectly non-judgmental world, if we learn to put on each other's shoes.