My mind became the centerpiece of my identity early on in life. I lived so intimately with my thoughts that I came to believe this is who I was. As academic success and the praise of being “the smart one” set me apart, I internalized a sense of uniqueness. Others saw it too, which created early recognition… and isolation.

And here lies the hidden cost:

• Praise becomes a promise. A quiet contract that requires constant success.
• Pressure becomes a prison. You avoid challenges that could lead to failure.
• Failure becomes a threat. You protect identity instead of pursuing growth.

Medicine reinforces this identity trap. The system subtly teaches us that our worth is measured in productivity, efficiency, and quality metrics. The inbox overflowing with messages, the patient demands, and the endless insurance checkboxes. These become the daily challenges that seem to prove whether we are “bonus worthy.” And while the system itself deserves its own criticism, the deeper struggle is more internal: When your self is tied so tightly to intellect and performance, every unmet expectation feels like a personal failure.

The result is a quiet loneliness. I excelled at intellectual empathy (analyzing, advising, problem-solving) but sometimes faltered at emotional connection, both with others and with myself. Logic feels safer than vulnerability. But that safety is an invisible cage.

The most insidious part? I conditioned myself as “different,” convinced that no one else could possibly understand. But psychological difference can easily turn into physical distance. And rather than being a bridge to others, the mind can become a wall.

The answer is not to abandon our minds or intellect. It is to reshape identity on a stronger foundation: growth, humility, and personal values.

What does that look like?

• Reframing identity. Anchor yourself in personal values—integrity, humility, compassion—rather than only intellect and output.
• Allowing imperfection. Growth requires discomfort. It requires vulnerability. We teach patients to accept discomfort, but we must extend it to ourselves.
• Setting boundaries. Reclaim attention for activities that restore energy, not deplete it. I follow a few self-imposed rules (e.g., close all charts before 5 p.m. Every day. No exceptions.)
• Seek connection. Authentic conversations with colleagues or friends can dismantle the illusion of being “different” or “alone.”

For years, I thought the noblest goal was to be the smartest person in the room. Now I know it is far better to simply be more human.

Zaid Mahmood is a family physician.