Who am I (becoming)?

This blog is inspired by my son, George, who’s 17 and recently played Jean Valjean in a local production of Les Misérables. Watching him step into that role, voice soaring, heart fully in it,  moved me in ways I didn’t quite expect.

George is passionate about musical theatre. He’s lit up by it. And he dreams of pursuing it as a career which, as any parent will know, brings with it both deep pride and real vulnerability. My job, as I see it, is to support him in following his dreams and to give him the tools and context to navigate the path he’s chosen. It’s a competitive industry. Luck plays a part. And making a living from your creative gifts is no small feat.

And so I’ve found myself sitting with an ongoing question: how do I support my child to become who he truly is, without letting my own fear about money, stability, or “sensible” life choices become the loudest voice in the room?

That balance between reality and possibility, between protection and belief, isn’t just about parenting. It’s something we all wrestle with as we navigate who we are, and who we’re becoming.

“Who Am I?”

In Les Misérables, Jean Valjean sings a powerful solo titled Who Am I? It’s a moment of moral reckoning. He’s built a new life under a false identity, and now another man has been arrested in his name. The dilemma: does he reveal the truth and risk everything? Or does he stay silent and protect the life he’s built?

“Who am I?” is not just a plot device. It’s a question many of us ask at different points in our lives - sometimes quietly, sometimes urgently.

Who am I now?
Who was I?
Who am I becoming?

In Valjean’s case, the question is not just about name or identity, it’s about values. What do I stand for? What kind of person do I choose to be, especially when the stakes are high?

When the Question Finds Us

We don’t always ask the “Who am I?” question consciously. Sometimes it shows up as restlessness, as dissatisfaction with parts of our life that no longer feels like it fits, as a yearning to start something new or a grief for the version of ourselves we’ve lost along the way.

It often comes in midlife. When we’ve spent decades building a version of ourselves, one that made sense at the time and then realise it no longer feels aligned. We start to question not only what we do, but why we do it. And whether it’s time to shed an old identity in service of something more real.

That can be disorientating. But it can also be liberating.

Because the truth is  we are not static. We are not one thing. And we are not finished.

One of the most powerful shifts I see in coaching is when someone moves from asking “What should I do?” to “Who do I want to become?”

That subtle reframe opens up new space. It shifts the focus from pleasing or performing to imagining and aligning. It invites agency, creativity, and intention,  three principles that sit at the heart of the CoCreative Method.

We are all works in progress. And we all carry layers of identity, of roles, of expectations. Some of them serve us. Others become heavy. The question isn’t always about throwing everything out. It’s about noticing what still fits, and what we might be ready to release.

Values as Compass

When we strip away the job title, the busy schedule, the external validation, who are we? What really matters to us? And are the actions we’re taking each day aligned with those values?

None of us get that right all the time. Life demands compromise. But when we know what we stand for, we have something to come back to. A compass, not a rulebook.

Watching George sing those words  “Who am I?”,  I felt proud, of course. But more than that, I felt in awe of his clarity of his willingness to be all in, of the way he’s shaping himself around passion and purpose, not practicality alone.

And it reminded me of a truth I often share with clients: it’s never too late to become more of who you really are.

So I’ll leave you with this reflection:

Who are you becoming?
And what choices would feel more aligned with that version of you (even in small, quiet ways)?

Sometimes the work isn’t to have all the answers. It’s simply to be willing to ask the question.