Maya Shankar

For so long, the violin had defined me that without it, I wasn't sure who I was or who I could be.

I felt stuck.

I'd later learned that this phenomenon is known as identity paralysis.

It happens to a lot of us when we face the unexpected.

Who we think we are and what we're about is suddenly called into question.

But I've since realized that there was something different, something more stable that I could have anchored my identity to.

And this brings us to that third and final question.

How might this change change how you define yourself?

When I reexamined my relationship with the violin, I discovered that what I really missed wasn't the instrument itself, but the fact that music had given me a vehicle for connecting emotionally with others.

I remember as a little kid playing for people and feeling kind of awestruck that we might all feel something new together.

What this means for me today is that I no longer anchor my identity to specific pursuits, like being a violinist or a cognitive scientist or a podcaster.

Instead, I anchor my identity to what lights me up about those pursuits, what really energizes me.

And for me, it's a love of human connection and understanding.

I now define myself not by what I do, but why I do it.

Look, unexpected change comes for us all, whether we like it or not.

And when it does, it can really suck.

But I'm hoping that if we can stay open to how we might internally change, how we might expand, it can help us weather the storm.

Life recently threw me a new slight change of plans.

I've always wanted to be a mom, but becoming one has been difficult, and my husband and I have had to navigate pregnancy losses and other heartbreaks over the years.

And now I'm not sure what will happen.