Saturday, December 24, 2016


"I am not a fraud."

Came my fierce response to my cringing self, after I had read an email invitation which said “our interviews are deeply technical” or something like that. It (the thought) was a reflex, a kick in the butt, a nudge to grow some spine, to believe in myself and accept a challenge.

"I am technical, experienced, and I know my shit," the thought would go on. "If I don’t fit, I don’t. If I do, we move. There’s no room for chills or panic attacks at this stage please. Next!"

Impostor syndrome what? Shut. It. Down.

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