We are all so much more

“So, what do you do?” What a question! I ask the same question to people all the time, but every time someone asks me, I feel myself take a deep breath before launching into it. At least, that’s what I used to do. It’s getting easier.

My response was always “I’m a nurse,” and then it became more complicated, because I became a mother, and student, and an English language teacher, and a coach, and I was “originally from the UK.” It became difficult to know which bits of me people wanted to know about, so I ended up just telling them everything.

I had a coaching session the other day with the ever-generous and wonderful Kristi Adams from Attigo, and I came to the realisation that I’ve always been, and done, loads of stuff. When I look back at school, I had something extra on every night, whether that was one of the multiple music groups I was in, taking night classes to learn another language, or volunteering, there was always something else going on. I love meeting new people and learning new skills: variety is one of my key drivers, I love doing something different every day. So where does that put me when I think of who I am, and what I do? Where does the word identity fit in?

Identity is something people can really struggle with, particularly after significant life changes: experiencing loss is no different. Who am I now that my baby has died? Who am I now that I live in a foreign country? Who am I now that I’ve been diagnosed with a chronic illness? Grief and loss can make us question who we are now, because we sure don’t feel like the person we were before. It can be really difficult to accept that there are so many different parts of you that contribute to who you are, and now that loss has become part of your story, you’ve added another piece to that identity.

This month my family and I celebrate a year of living in Portugal, and I am only just finding my feet and working out who I am now I’m here. The past few years have been filled with so many changes that it wasn’t difficult to get lost in the move, the admin, the other priorities. But now that we’re becoming more settled, I’m finally working out who Kat Proffitt is.

That name – goodness. That caused me some turmoil. My maiden name is Golding, and I love it, but I wanted to have the same name as my husband, and if we were ever to have children, I wanted us all to have the same surname. I’m not sure we ever discussed him becoming a Golding, maybe we did, but after we married, I decided to begin the process of changing my name. It was so difficult, I was no longer Kat Golding, I became Kat Proffitt. It didn’t sit right, and I wasn’t convinced I’d made the right decision for a long time. I didn’t get rid of Golding altogether though, I kept it as a middle name, so now I have a ridiculously long name, but feel like a little part of my family identity has been retained. It seems so trivial now, because I am very comfortable and content with my name, but it really threw me at the time.

Over time I have spoken to many people, some who know so strongly who they are, who they want to be, and what that means for their future, others who have no clue, who are lost and don’t know what they want, need, or love anymore. And then there are those who are someone but don’t feel the world see them as such: those who have had many babies but have no living children, who the world sees as childfree, but who are truly parents. Those who have a health condition which puts them in a box, and despite their skills, their needs, and experiences, feel restricted because nobody sees them as anything more than their diagnosis.

Identity is who we are, it’s what makes us function, it’s how we know every decision we make, every action we take, is inline with our values and beliefs, but what it should never be is a barrier to our dreams and aspirations.

It’s not just about the clothes we wear, the music we listen to, the things we say, but it’s the values we live by, the congruence of our internal narrative and that we put out to the world. And anything that shifts that, can leave us feeling completely detached from the person we were before.

That person we were before, however, doesn’t need to be who you are now. It’s OK to change, to allow your identity to evolve with your experience, to be shaped by your pain, your joy, your love and loss. I know it can be scary. I have had quite a few conversations recently with people about their fear: the fear of moving forward after the loss of a baby, feeling like this leaves their baby behind, forgotten. The fear of stepping away from a relationship because it means starting life again as a single person, a massive unknown after many years of marriage. It is scary, without a doubt. But you can find a way forward.

I always say acknowledgement is key. Knowing you don’t really know who you are, realising there’s something missing but you can’t quite work out what it is, acknowledging you’re scared of what you’ll find on the other side: these are all important first steps to take to shift from coasting along in life, passively taking in the world, to being an active player in your own life and feeling more in control.

Am I still working out who I am? Of course! But I don’t mind the many hats I wear, if anything I like them—mum, teacher, coach, daughter, sister, wife, and all the rest. Some days I feel like Katherine Elizabeth Golding Proffitt: formal, ready for passport control or another expat admin task, but other days, I’m just Kat who likes fluffy slippers and a cup of tea on the roof. And that’s OK.

More often than not, I wear more than one hat at once, juggling roles and responsibilities, figuring it out as I go, but the key, I’ve learned, isn’t in finding a precise, single identity, but accepting that identity is fluid. It shifts and grows with us, it is shaped by our experiences, our challenges, and the people we love. And perhaps, instead of worrying about which hat fits best, we can embrace them all, knowing that each one tells a part of our story.

We are all so much more than the thing we lost, so much more than our past selves. As we grow, as we experience more in life, our identity will also continue to grow, and as unsettling as that can be sometimes, discovering and embracing the new parts of yourself can be so much more freeing than trying to hold on to a person you once were.