A question that most people answer too late. Maybe because the question is flawed to begin with or may be because we give too much power to this “title”. Like it’s the center, and everything else is orbiting around it – waiting to be named “Outside”.
There’s a moment that doesn’t get talked about.
Not in interviews. Not on feedback calls.
Not even in those shiny Instagram captions about “work-life balance.”
It’s the moment at night, when the screen is shut, the task list closed, and the room is just… you.
No deadlines to answer to. No titles to hide behind. Just the you that isn’t applauded, measured, introduced, or paid. And in that quiet—if you’re still enough—you’ll hear it:
The unsettling question that floats up like mist— Who am I when nobody’s watching me perform?
You weren’t born with a role. You didn’t enter the world as “Senior Manager,” “Founder,” or “Designer.”
You arrived wide-eyed. Responding to textures, colors, voices. Grasping instinct before logic.
There was no KPI to meet. No deliverable to prove. And yet—you mattered.
You mattered simply by being present in a room. Breathing. Noticing. Existing.
So maybe the real question isn’t what you are outside your job. Maybe it’s: What part of you predates performance?
There are parts of you that don’t fit on LinkedIn.
Like—
- The way you notice when someone’s voice cracks mid-sentence.
- The comfort you offer without words.
- The questions you ask that make people pause mid-coffee sip.
- The quiet rituals you’ve stitched together after each heartbreak.
- The humor that only surfaces when you’re not trying to be liked.
- The part of you that dreams with no ROI attached.
None of this fits a résumé. None of it adds to your CTC.
But these are the parts people remember when they speak of you at your funeral—not your performance reviews.
If the Title Was a Costume—What’s Your Skin?
Here’s an uncomfortable truth: A lot of us confuse costumes with character.
We wear “Marketing Strategist,” “Head of Ops,” “Coach,” like second skins. But when the costume falls—maternity break, sabbatical, job loss, burnout— we panic. Because somewhere along the way, the costume became the self.
- But what if the real self is quieter?
- Less decorated.
- More curious than certain.
- More contradictory than a role allows.
What if the real self doesn’t need a name tag at all?
So if you’re wondering who you are when the title falls off—
Maybe don’t rush to name it. Maybe just sit in that space, where nothing is being proven, but everything is still present.
Sometimes, that’s where the real you has been waiting this whole time.
