Last week, while giving a seminar, I suddenly felt as if the sentences coming out of my mouth weren't mine. And the brain controlling that mouth didn't seem to be mine either. This was not the first time I had suffered 'imposter syndrome'.

Although not officially recognized as a psychological disorder, it might have been if doctors had used me as a case study a few years back. Whether I had success in sub-cloning a long DNA fragment or fashioning a unique experimental design, I would usually attribute such accomplishments to luck.

I was relieved to discover that imposter syndrome is widespread in academia: sometimes successful people are unable to accept that their accomplishments are deserved. In extreme cases, I've heard it can lead people to avoid challenges altogether, for fear of failure. Fortunately, I have never suffered to that extent.

In fact, what I have come to realize is that the syndrome is a mechanism to keep my ego in check. This can be a good thing. An ego can be a dangerous monster, as I found out as an undergraduate student when I alienated a few lab mates by gloating that my fruitfly genetics project was far superior to theirs. Ironically, not long after, I scored a paltry 65 on my fruitfly genetics exam. Perhaps a few recent successes explain the resurgence of the imposter in my seminar. Maybe it's time my ego was tamed once again.