Imposter Syndrome, mixed media, Margaret Atkins ‘21

I’d be lying if I said I had any clue where my name came from, and I’d be lying if I said I liked my name in the slightest. Too many syllables, not enough personality. Elizabeth Grace Sills. A pretty standard, run-of-the-mill name. Two of the most common middle names plus my not-as-common last name. When I was younger, I tried to carry out the elegance and eloquence that my name held. I wore dresses and high socks with Mary Janes and a matching headband, cardigan, or bow, respectively. My room also exuded whatever my five-year-old self-thought was reminiscent of Queen Elizabeth. I had my beloved chandelier-shaped night light and blue and gold embroidered bedding on a massive canopy bed that I needed a step stool to get into. That wasn’t me though, and as I grew, it became increasingly obvious and more difficult to maintain such a high standard of living as a literal child. A few years after this, I started coming into my own. I remember on a trip to Colorado with some family friends, one of the moms started writing “Lizzie” on all of my disposable cups. I fell in love with Lizzie. That name represented the loud and rambunctious person I really was, rather than the mask I put on to try to mold myself into my real name. I immediately adopted my new nickname and requested that all of my closest friends call me as such.At first, Lizzie was reserved for only my closest friends. It felt like a barrier between me and adults or people I didn’t like, and something that tied me tighter to those I loved. My room changed again, too. Night Lights were out, and brown and pink stick-on polka dots all over the walls were in. When I hit my tweenage years, I started introducing myself as Lizzie. Teachers and parents still knew me as Elizabeth, but Lizzie was now open for anyone to use. Thank. God. I slowly but surely let go of this “superior being” expectation I had created for myself and started heavily leaning into my Lizzie alter ego. By high school, all of my teachers and friends, plus their parents, knew me as Lizzie. Elizabeth was finally gone. Even now, my name is still evolving with me. Most recently, I’ve noticed more people starting to call me “Liz.” An older, slightly more sophisticated and timeless version of “Lizzie” that’s ready to be packed away for college. Regardless, I think if you were to ask anyone who knows me or even knows of me, they could tell you that Elizabeth is not Lizzie or Liz.

Elizabeth Sills ‘21