The Summer I Met My Doubts – A Personal Battle with Impostor Syndrome

It’s hard to believe now, but 18 years ago, during what should have been one of the most intellectually thrilling phases of my life, I was quietly battling a storm within.

I was a PhD student, far from home, part of the brilliant ecosystem of the Max Planck Institute. To the outside world, it may have looked like I had “made it”—pursuing cutting-edge science, surrounded by world-class minds. But inside, I carried a weight I had never known before: the feeling that maybe I didn’t belong.

For a few months that summer, a question haunted me:

“Am I really worthy of this?”

Was I chasing something that wasn’t my destiny? Had I crossed into a world too distant from where I came from—too advanced, too refined, too alien?

What’s strange is that I’ve always been a confident person, someone who thrives on challenges and hardship. But that summer felt different. It was the lowest emotional point in my life so far, and even today, it remains an unforgettable scar.

Looking back, I still can’t pinpoint the exact trigger. Was it the pressure to produce results? The intellectual intensity of the Max Planck environment? Or perhaps the cultural shift, coming from an eastern village background into the heart of Western scientific academia?

Maybe it was all of it—stacked one on top of the other.

Is It Just Me?

Years later, I’ve come to understand: I was not alone.

What I went through is, in fact, incredibly common among PhD students, especially those from underrepresented backgrounds or who move abroad for their education. Impostor syndrome—this creeping doubt that we’re not good enough, that we’ve fooled others into thinking we’re smarter than we really are—thrives in high-performance environments where success feels like the bare minimum.

When you come from a modest background and are suddenly surrounded by global brilliance, the contrast can make you question your identity. Add to that the pressure to publish, the cultural adjustments, the perfectionist mindset, and the solitary nature of research—it’s a perfect storm.

What Helped Me

Eventually, I fought through it. I focused on what I could control. I leaned into my curiosity, reminded myself of the path I had taken, and kept moving forward—even on the days when it felt like I was crawling. Friends gave me unforgettable memories that help me to go through this phase with a lot of energy and courage.

That summer didn’t define me, but it shaped me.

It taught me that confidence isn’t the absence of doubt. It’s the ability to move through doubt with integrity.

Why I’m Sharing This

For years, I buried this part of my journey. But today, I’m sharing it because someone out there might need to hear it—a young researcher, an international student, or anyone wrestling with their self-worth in a new world.

If you’re going through it: you’re not broken, and you’re definitely not alone.

Impostor syndrome isn’t proof that you don’t belong.

It’s often proof that you’ve stepped far outside your comfort zone, into something extraordinary.

And that? That takes real courage.