Who Are You When You’re Not What You Do?
You are more than your work identity but so often we forget to acknowledge those parts of us.
Have you ever walked into a room full of people who care about all the same things you do — the same causes, the same values, the same vision for a better world — and still felt profoundly alone?
If you have, you’re not imagining it.
And you’re not broken.
What you’re experiencing is a lack of intimacy, not a lack of community.
Those two things sound similar. They are not the same.
The difference between connection and depth
We live in a world that has become very good at producing the appearance of connection.
We know a lot of people. We show up at the events. We engage in the group chats. We sit on the panels, attend the conferences, and nod at all the right moments.
And yet so many of us walk away from those rooms feeling quietly hollow.
Because most of those interactions never move past the surface.
They stay polite and stay functional. They stay safely contained within the boundaries of what we do, what we’ve built, and what we’re working on next.
And over time, that kind of connection feels empty and leaves us starved.
I’ve been thinking about why this is especially true for changemakers.
For people who are deeply purpose-driven. For the founders, the leaders, the community builders, the people who carry responsibility, vision, and genuine care for the world around them.
In my observation, changemakers are almost always the ones holding the space.
They are the ones listening. The ones who show up early and stay late. The ones who volunteer when everyone else is already overwhelmed. The ones who start the accountability groups, rally the community, and make sure no one falls through the cracks.
They are extraordinary at giving, but not necessarily great at receiving
The permission changemakers rarely receive
There’s a saying most of us have heard: just because your friend seems strong and resilient doesn’t mean they don’t need support. Often, they’ve simply learned not to ask for it.
It’s no different with changemakers.
And yet we’ve built a culture that quietly asks them to keep giving, keep carrying, keep showing up, as if the work is the whole of who they are. And many times, it’s because of the role they keep insisting on playing in all of our lives.
I felt this myself when I left nonprofit work as a clinical therapist and moved into the private sector. I was told, without hesitation, that I had sold out. As if purpose only counted in one specific form. As if choosing a different path for myself was a betrayal of the work.
What stayed with me wasn’t the shame. It was the deeper question underneath it.
Why do we make changemakers believe that work must define every waking moment of their lives? And part of this is the internal, deeply ingrained conditioning that perpetuates itself.
What would it take to make space for them to rest? To indulge? To be human beyond the impact they create?
And not just human in the tired, depleted sense.
Human in the living sense. The curious, nourished, present sense.
What happens when you take the work away
A couple of years ago, I started hosting small changemaker dinners.
Eight to ten people. Deeply intentional. And two non-negotiable rules.
No egos. No titles.
And — the rule that made people the most uncomfortable — you are not allowed to ask what someone does for work. And you cannot share what you do for work.
At first, the discomfort was palpable.
These were brilliant, accomplished people. And they had to really think how to ask….
