Who Were You Before the Diagnosis?

“What inspired you to do this work?”

It’s a question I’ve been asked many times. And every time, the answer takes me back — not to my years in medical school, not to my certifications or degrees. But much earlier. To a small street in Romania. To the gentle, wise presence of my godmother, Moașa Alexandrescu.

She was not a psychiatrist. She was not a doctor. She was, as I now understand, my first mentor in healing.

The Teacher Across the Street

As a child, I often crossed the street to visit her. She was a schoolteacher by profession — but for me, she was the keeper of stories.

Stories tucked away in what I used to call her little “borsețuță” (small bag). Each tale was a piece of her own life — stories of struggle, loss, perseverance. Not fairy tales. Real stories. Stories that didn’t shy away from suffering, but instead honored it.

I listened. I soaked them in. Because we didn’t have a television back then. No glossy images to distract us. Only words. And presence.

And somehow, through these shared moments, she was preparing me — though neither of us knew it at the time — for the work I would one day do.

The Stories that Shape Us

I often tell my patients: You are not your diagnosis. You are not your label. You are the sum of your stories. The echoes of the voices that shaped you. The silent battles you’ve fought. The love you received — or longed for.

Back then, sitting beside Moașa Alexandrescu, listening to her voice, I learned my first lessons about trauma. About resilience. About the power of holding space for another human being.

I didn’t have the words for it then. But I felt it.

I learned that healing doesn’t always come from advice. Sometimes it comes from listening. From being there. From not turning away.

Did I Choose Psychiatry? Or Did It Choose Me?

When I look back, I realize that psychiatry was not so much a career choice as it was a natural unfolding. A calling.

Just as life chose my godmother to be one of my first teachers, life chose this path for me.

Not out of ambition. Not out of prestige. But out of a deep knowing: I could not live any other way.

I could not look away from the quiet suffering I saw around me — the adults smiling on the outside, silently breaking on the inside. I could not ignore the weight of stories unspoken, pain unprocessed.

So here I am. Still listening. Still learning. Still honoring the stories that make us who we are.

What I Want You to Know

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from both my godmother and my patients, it’s this: Healing is not about fixing what is broken.

It’s about seeing the whole person. The child who crossed the street, hungry for connection. The adult still carrying the weight of unmet needs. The human being beneath the diagnosis.

Because in the end, we are not diagnoses. We are stories. And the story is not over yet.

Invitation to Reflect

I’d like to invite you to pause for a moment.

Take a breath.

And ask yourself:

• Who were the storytellers in your life — the ones who shaped the way you see the world?
• Which stories have you been carrying, perhaps silently, that deserve to be honored or heard?
• Are there parts of your story that you’ve been trying to “fix” instead of holding with compassion?

In my clinical work today — whether I sit with someone facing psychosis, ADHD, bipolar disorder, or depression — this remains at the heart of what I do:

To see beyond the diagnosis. To hold space for the whole human being. To listen for the story beneath the symptoms.

If this message speaks to you — if it touches a place in you that feels unseen, unheard, or simply curious to explore your own story — I welcome you to reach out.

Because healing doesn’t happen alone. It happens in connection.

And perhaps, like me, you’ll discover that life is always placing the right teachers along your path — sometimes in the most unexpected places.