You Are Not A Monolith
How our certainty about who we are can keep us from becoming who we’re meant to be
If you had asked me in middle school what I wanted to be when I grew up, I wouldn’t have hesitated for a second.
A pediatrician.
Not a doctor. A pediatrician.
While many children changed their minds every few months, my answer remained remarkably consistent. Through middle school, high school, college, and medical school, the vision never changed. I loved children. I loved their curiosity, their honesty, and their resilience. I loved the idea of helping shape lives at the very beginning of their stories.
Even today, I still feel privileged every time I walk into an exam room with a child. There is something extraordinary about caring for someone whose future is still largely unwritten. Every child represents possibility. Every child represents potential. Every child carries gifts, talents, strengths, and experiences that have not yet fully emerged.
For most of my life, I assumed that would be my entire professional world.
I never imagined that one day I would find myself sitting across from military veterans, listening to stories that would move me to tears.
The Arc of a Life
One of the things I love most about pediatrics is that you are constantly looking forward. You are helping children become who they are meant to be. You are witnessing the beginning of the story.
Working with veterans has shown me something completely different.
With veterans, you are often witnessing the arc of the story.
You are sitting across from people who have already lived through extraordinary chapters of life. They have endured hardships, losses, victories, sacrifices, disappointments, and moments of courage that most people will never fully understand. Many have experienced circumstances that would have broken other people.
When I perform disability evaluations, the paperwork is often focused on diagnoses.
Back pain.
Hearing loss.
PTSD.
Knee injuries.
Foot pain.
But after a while, you realize that the diagnosis is often the least interesting thing about the person sitting across from you.
The real story is the human being.
The young Marine who deployed to Somalia.
The paratrooper who jumped out of aircraft carrying a hundred pounds of equipment.
The veteran who still remembers the names of friends he lost decades ago.
The eighty-year-old who can still vividly describe an experience that occurred before I was born.
The diagnosis may explain why they came to see me, but it doesn’t explain who they are.
When History Becomes Personal
Recently, I met a veteran who served during Operation Restore Hope in Somalia in 1993.
During our conversation, he mentioned the movie Black Hawk Down.
Years ago, I would have barely paid attention.
Military movies were never my thing. War movies weren’t my thing. Action movies weren’t my thing. In fact, I often avoided them altogether. I never enjoyed violence, combat scenes, or anything that seemed focused on destruction rather than human connection.
Yet as he shared his experiences, I found myself fascinated.
Not because of the tactics.
Not because of the action.
But because of the people.
Suddenly, Black Hawk Down wasn’t just a movie. It was a human story.
It was a real event experienced by real people with real fears, real families, and real consequences. It was no longer entertainment. It was history made personal.
And now, Black Hawk Down is on my watch immediately list.
I’ve discovered that this happens more often than we realize. Many things seem uninteresting when they exist only as concepts. But when they become connected to actual human lives, they take on entirely new meaning.
The Danger of Thinking We Know Ourselves Too Well
The older I get, the more I realize how often I have been wrong about myself.
I was never interested in working with adults clinically.
And yet, some of the most meaningful conversations of my professional life now happen with adults.
I was never interested in military history.
And yet, I now find myself genuinely curious about the experiences of the men and women who served.
I was never interested in many of the places my work has taken me.
And yet, some of those places have surprised me with their beauty, their people, and the lessons they had waiting for me.
How many opportunities do we miss because we become overly attached to our own identity?
We tell ourselves stories about who we are.
“I don’t like that.”
“That’s not for me.”
“I could never enjoy that.”
“I’m not interested in those kinds of people.”
“I’m not interested in those kinds of places.”
“I’m not interested in that kind of work.”
The problem is that life rarely asks our permission before teaching us something new.
Often, the experiences that transform us most are the very experiences we never would have chosen for ourselves.
More Than One Story
Perhaps the greatest lesson I’ve learned over the past few years is that human beings are far more multidimensional than we give ourselves credit for.
We are not one personality trait.
We are not one profession.
We are not one interest.
We are not one chapter.
We are not one story.
We are constantly evolving through our encounters with other people. Every conversation has the potential to expand us. Every unexpected experience has the potential to reveal something new about ourselves.
The version of me who dreamed of becoming a pediatrician at twelve years old could never have imagined the gratitude I would feel listening to veterans share their stories decades later.
And that’s exactly the point
Life continues to surprise us when we allow it to.
A Question for You
What have you decided you’re “not interested in”?
What people, experiences, opportunities, places, or possibilities have you already ruled out?
And what if you’re wrong?
What if the next chapter of your life is hiding inside something you currently believe isn’t for you?
Because if life has taught me anything, it’s this:
The most transformative experiences are often found on the other side of, “I never thought I would…”
Wherever you are on your journey, remember that you don’t have to have everything figured out. Life is not asking you to become someone else. It is simply inviting you to discover more of who you already are.
Stay curious. Stay open.
Wherever life takes you, you’re allowed to meet it at your own pace.
Dr. Natacha