What happens when the role disappears?

Hello there,

Tomorrow, I fly home.

This marks the end of my Antarctica season, nearly five months at sea.

Five months of brutal beauty.

Five months of standing on glaciers, dancing in storms, swimming in silence.

Of guiding others through wonder while trying to keep a grip on myself.

And now… it’s over.

There’s something no one tells you about work like this:

It gives you a very strong identity.

A clear role.

A sense of purpose that fits like a second skin.

You become “the guide.”

“The leader.”

“The Ice Queen.”

“The Oceanographer”

And then, suddenly, you’re not.

You land.

You go home.

You’re back in a place where nobody calls you by your role.

And you realize you’ve wrapped your sense of self in something that isn’t coming back with you.

And that’s the real storm to navigate.

Not the waves or the cold, but the question:

Who am I now, when no one’s watching?

I don’t have the full answer.

Not yet.

But I’m starting with this:

The wildest parts of me don’t belong to the job.

They belong to me.

And I’m taking them with me, into whatever comes next.

Because here’s the thing:

It doesn’t matter what you’re leaving behind, a job, a relationship, a role, a home, your identity was never theirs to hold.

It’s yours.

So let me ask you:

When was the last time you let go of a version of yourself—and what did you choose to carry forward?

Thanks for reading 🖤,

Aitana