From Imposter Syndrome to Evidence: Why My “Once upon a time…” IG Story Hit Home
I don’t post much on social media. In all honesty (despite researching it for years) I didn’t even have the apps installed for the longest time. Most days I prefer the slower rhythm of books, documents, or conversations. But a few weeks ago I shared a short Instagram story, just a handful of slides that began, “Once upon a time…” I admitted that even after getting into Cambridge, self-doubt lingered. Then I posted screenshots of emails from places like the UN, Google, and Amazon. And blurred pictures of my passport looking like a scrapbook. Not as a flex. As evidence.
It’s not like I ever had these opportunities in the past. Having grown up in Harrow, (a place in London where dreams go to die) and having to struggle like everybody else. Fun fact, at the age after high school when everybody was going to university, my family; (1) couldn’t afford it, (2) had no idea where to even start. Nobody in my family had been to university before, so I had to work and support myself to be able to go years later. A decade since then, from when I couldn’t afford to study, to now where you can read my writing in official UN General Assembly reports. (but those are stories for another day…)
That tiny story on IG became my best-performing post. My inbox filled with congratulations, but also with something deeper, lots of people who could relate and messaged me saying things like: “I felt this.” “I thought it was just me.” So here’s the story behind the story. Why it resonated, what it taught me, and how I’m going to write here from now on.
What the story said (and didn’t)
The first slide said “Once upon a time…” because that’s how we start fables, and what I needed to share had a lesson at the end. I wrote about getting into Cambridge and still feeling like a stranger in my own story. I wrote about imposter syndrome refusing to read my CV. Then I showed a few redacted screenshots of emails from recognisable organisations that, for years, I would have filed under luck.
What the story didn’t say: that the doubt has disappeared. It hasn’t. The post wasn’t a victory lap. It was me counting what counts.
Why imposter syndrome can outlast success
Achievement and confidence are not twins. Achievement is a receipt. Confidence is weather. You can have a drawer full of receipts and still wake up to rain. For a long time, I waited for a feeling of arrival that never arrived. The more I learned and the more rooms I entered, the more aware I became of what I didn’t know. High standards quietly turned into a harsher story about my limits.
I also confused humility with self-erasure. I thought the tasteful thing to do was to under-claim. But under-claiming is still a claim; it sets your ceiling. Real humility sounds more like this: this is true, and I will still listen.
Evidence versus confidence
The shift didn’t come from louder affirmations. It came from a small practice: I started keeping an Evidence folder. Nothing grand—just a private place where I put signals that the work was travelling. An invitation I cared about. A note from a student. A paragraph that sang. A problem I actually solved. Things I used to dismiss as timing or luck.
On hard days, I open it. Not to worship it, but to calibrate. If my inner narrator starts rewriting history, the folder pulls me back to the facts. It reminds me that recognition is a compass, not a crown. It points; it doesn’t define.
Why that IG story landed
I think it worked because it was simple and human. “Once upon a time…” gave it a shape our brains understand. I didn’t pretend the dragon had been slain; I just showed the sword. The screenshots weren’t theatre. They were receipts. And in a culture that often rewards performative perfection or performative vulnerability, plain proof can feel like fresh air.
A ten‑minute practice you can try
If you’re wrestling with imposter syndrome, try this today. Open a blank note and write two short lists: Evidence I ignore and Stories I over-listen to. Three lines each, no more. Then draw a line between one item on each list and write a single counter-sentence: Because X happened, the story Y is incomplete. Save it somewhere you’ll actually see—your notes app, your desktop, the back of a card in your wallet. Repetition beats revelation.
Humility without disappearing
If a friend showed you their CV and whispered, “This is probably a mistake,” you’d protest. Offer yourself the same protest. We can respect the work and still keep our curiosity. We can name truth without turning it into a trumpet.
Recognition isn’t redemption
The emails from big names do not make me worthwhile. They tell me the work found its way to someone who needed it that day. If tomorrow the inbox goes quiet, the work remains. That’s the point. Our value isn’t something we borrow from a logo.
How I’ll show up here from now on
That little story reminded me what readers actually need: not polish for its own sake, but clarity, usefulness and honesty. I’m going to write here the way I spoke there—more field notes from London to Bangkok, more tools you can use in under ten minutes, more essays that are sincere rather than performative. I’ll keep sharing both the work and the weather.
I’m trying to write these posts a bit more for myself than for any particular audience or people. I often keep my brothers in mind when I write these journal entry style blog posts, so my writing really is like something I would write to myself past or future self. I don’t know if I have any avid readers of my blog, but if you appreciate my writing, thank you so much for taking the time to read, and please do send me a message on IG or something, I actually really appreciate it and will definitely respond as soon as I have time.
If you saw the story, thank you for the messages. If you didn’t, welcome anyway. I’ll keep counting what counts and sharing what I learn.
Resources to keep close
Start an Evidence folder today. Title a note “Evidence” and add one item each week. Set a reminder for Friday afternoon. Tell one person what you’re working on this week—not for applause, but so the idea leaves your head and enters a room.
A note on place
I wrote this in Bangkok, where the afternoon rain arrives with the same certainty my old doubts used to. Both pass. London taught me how to hurry; Bangkok is teaching me how to slow down and look.
If this helped or resonated with you at all
Subscribe for the occasional note with one story, one tool and one question. And if you’ve started your own Evidence folder, share one line from it. I’ll feature a few in an upcoming post.
Avi is an International Relations scholar with expertise in science, technology and global policy. Member of the University of Cambridge, Avi’s knowledge spans key areas such as AI policy, international law, and the intersection of technology with global Affairs. He has contributed to several conferences and research projects, including collaborating with the United Nations Institute for Disarmament Research inaugural conference on AI, Security and Ethics.
Avi is passionate about exploring new cultures and technological advancements, sharing his insights through detailed articles, reviews, and research. His content helps readers stay informed, make smarter decisions, and find inspiration for their own journeys.
