“We are not what we know, but what we are willing to learn.”

Mary Catherine Bateson

When I first read that, I wanted to underline it, pin it to my wall, and maybe also scream into a cushion.

Because for a long time, I thought I was what I knew. I knew how to study, perform, deliver. I’d been collecting gold stars since I was five. Cambridge, INSEAD, Harvard. Running a company. I got really good at being good.

But the past few years have cracked that open. Training to be a psychotherapist has turned out to be less about mastering theory and more about sitting in the emotional mess of things - other people’s and my own. It’s incredibly meaningful. And also, occasionally, humiliating.

It turns out that learning how to be present, vulnerable, and human(ish) is far less tidy than writing a strategy deck. No one claps when you admit your attachment style. There are no annual reviews for “sat with sadness and didn’t interrupt it.”

And yet - this willingness to learn, to unlearn, to try again - it’s starting to feel like a better kind of strength. One that doesn’t rely on knowing everything, just on being honest enough to notice what’s true.

So yes, I’m still the person who colour-codes her calendar and reads the footnotes. But I’m also learning to be the person who breathes before responding. Someone who doesn’t always fix. Who doesn’t always know.

Still? Not really.
Still-ish? Absolutely.

Rebecca Lewis