Let me introduce you to my old friend, Saqra. She’s been hanging around for years—uninvited, I might add. At first, I had no idea who she was or why she insisted on tagging along. Over time, I got to know her a little better. I don’t always like her (actually, I almost never do), but she refuses to take the hint and leave. So, I’ve had to make peace with the fact that we’re stuck together.
When did Saqra appear?
College. That’s when she made her grand entrance. One day, I was a normal student, minding my own business, and the next, I had this tiny voice in my head whispering, “Are you sure you’re smart enough for this?” I started comparing myself to my classmates and, surprise, surprise—I always found ways to convince myself I was the worst.
Then I started working, and Saqra really stepped up her game. She turned into a full-time critic, constantly reminding me that I was under evaluation, that any minute now, someone would burst into the room shouting, “We’ve made a mistake! You’re not supposed to be here!” 😱
How has she affected me?
For starters, she’s a total buzzkill. Every time I achieve something, she rolls her eyes and says, “Meh, that was just luck.” She’s also a professional dream-crusher, convincing me not to apply for jobs, scholarships, or start new projects because, obviously, I’m not good enough.
And let’s not forget the weight she adds to my life—like carrying around a backpack filled with self-doubt, except it’s one of those ridiculously oversized hiking backpacks. The kind that makes you wonder, Did I really need to pack this much insecurity?
How do I deal with Saqra?
I’ve gone through different phases. First, there was the realization that what I was feeling had a name—Imposter Syndrome. Understanding that this wasn’t just a personal flaw but a shared experience made a difference. If so many others felt the same way, maybe—just maybe—there was a way to manage it.
Then came the conversations. At first, admitting these feelings out loud felt uncomfortable, almost like exposing a weakness. But the more I talked about it with friends and colleagues, the more I realized I wasn’t alone. Others had their own versions of Saqra, casting doubt on their achievements. Sharing our experiences didn’t make the feeling disappear, but it made it easier to carry.
Over time, I started recognizing when Saqra was at work. When self-doubt crept in, I tried to pause and ask myself: Is this true, or is it just fear speaking? Some days, this helped me push forward. Other days, the doubts lingered. Because knowing something is one thing, but changing how you react to it is another challenge entirely.
Understanding Saqra
Here’s the deal: our primitive brain is wired for survival. Back in the day, it kept us from wandering into caves filled with hungry bears. Now, it just panics over job interviews and presentations. It lists all the possible dangers—failure, embarrassment. Saqra isn’t trying to ruin my life; she’s just scared. And like any scared creature, she needs to be heard.
So instead of trying to fight her off, I started asking questions: Why am I feeling this way? What exactly am I afraid of? Fear is just the symptom, but what’s the real cause?
The problem is, when I try to answer these questions in my head, my thoughts start racing at 100 km/h, bouncing around like a pinball machine. So I slow things down by writing them out. My hand can’t move as fast as my brain, which forces me to process one thought at a time. If writing isn’t an option, I talk out loud (yes, even to myself). Sometimes, I use my phone’s dictation mode, which is a fun way to turn my spiraling doubts into a transcribable mess. The goal? Get those thoughts out where I can actually see them, instead of letting them swirl around unchecked.
The Real Game-Changer: Self-Compassion & Vulnerability
At the end of the day, the best way to deal with Saqra is not by fighting her but by being kind. Self-compassion means treating myself the way I’d treat a friend who’s struggling—acknowledging my feelings instead of dismissing them, and accepting that I’m human (flawed, imperfect, and occasionally a total mess).
This also ties into vulnerability—the willingness to admit my weaknesses, accept my failures, and most importantly, be open to trying anyway. Vulnerability is what lets us step into new situations without having complete control, and that’s terrifying—but also kind of exciting. Because every time I let myself be vulnerable, I remind Saqra (and myself) that fear doesn’t get to be the boss of me.
Healthy practices
One of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned is to listen to myself and allow space for whatever I need in the moment—without judgment. That might mean doing nothing, crying, getting a hug, going for a walk, painting, eating a slice of chocolate cake, or exercising. After this I am in a better condition to analyze what is behind the fear, what is Saqra really saying. This practice helped me to come up with a plan to tackle the fear.
Taking this one step further, structuring my time in a way that makes sense to me was be life-changing. To keep my mental health in a good state, I make sure to include activities that bring me joy, not just work and responsibilities. Hobbies, passions, and time with people who energize me are just as important. Prioritizing these things isn’t indulgence—it’s balance.
Final thoughts
At its core, our instinct is survival, and that means avoiding risks, failure, and pain. That’s all Saqra is trying to do—protect me. She’s not going anywhere, and I’ve made peace with that. Instead of fighting her, I’ve learned to listen, acknowledge the fear, and remind myself that I don’t need to have all the answers before I take a step forward.
Yes, things could go wrong. But what if everything goes well?