I awoke with a jolt. Who was this person I was married to? Worse. Who was I? Somewhere through 13 years of oppressive marriage, a prescriptive and intense university course and subsequent surgical training program, along with two children, I had lost my identity.

The year was 2004. I was in Paris on an advanced surgical fellowship with my family. Ironically, less than six months before I believed I was truly blessed having a husband, a recruitment business, children, a home, a blossoming surgical career and a high level of respect from both peers and seniors.

In retrospect, there were obvious big cracks. As a surgeon I was confident, calm and assertive. As a wife, I had been ground down over the years by constant microaggressions and what is now known as “coercive control”. Moving to a new country where my work was no longer my safety anchor blew things apart.

By mid 2005 I was still in Paris, but my marriage had ended, my children had returned to Melbourne, my home had been sold, and I had no access to any of my marital funds or assets. I was alone and lost. I was fortunate enough to have French colleagues whose support helped me regain at least a small piece of self-confidence through my surgical skills.

I returned to Melbourne later that year to start the process of rebuilding. In mid 2006, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was 38.

Over the next six months, I underwent treatment: surgery, chemotherapy and radiotherapy. I lost my hair, but I gained personal time. Time to reflect and contemplate that question that had emerged some 18 months earlier in Paris: who was I?

I read voraciously. I attended counselling. I started journaling. I worked through what was a rather acrimonious divorce process, which for me was never about the money, but about being a role model for my children in standing up to bullies and ensuring the right outcome for them. I started the research that ultimately led to my PhD in which I developed a new theory for cancer with practical application.

I once thought identity was built from the things I had accumulated around myself: wife, mother, surgeon, researcher, businesswoman. I now think those are simply places in which identity reveals itself. What remains when the titles are removed is how we choose to meet the world — our values, our behaviour, the qualities we nurture and the way we treat others.

Perhaps that is why I keep painting courage, trust, gratitude, wisdom, perseverance and joy. I am not really painting flowers. I am still exploring the question I first asked myself in Paris more than twenty years ago: Who am I?

Further reading
My PhD research grew from this period of my life. For those interested in the scientific work, my thesis, Emergence and Margins in Head and Neck Cancer: A new understanding, is available through Monash University.

Read my PhD thesis