Modern society expects individuals to develop a “professional identity” or self-shaped by specific expectations, goals, and behaviours. While this is crucial for the functioning of societies and businesses, it can sometimes conflict with one's authentic self. The deeper this misalignment, the more profound the consequences can be - ranging from burnout to an existential crisis about one’s purpose. Striving to align the professional self with the true self may help reduce frustration and prevent long-term disillusionment, particularly in academia.

Our society has imposed various restraints on us human beings, some of which are clearly justifiable. After all, we are animals; to some extent, we need external control and restraints. While this touches on psychological matters I won’t delve into here, I would like to focus instead on how forming a professional identity often impacts us scientists, leading to cognitive dissonances – inner conflicts that, at some point, we must address to prevent unnecessary suffering.

The education of the self begins early in life, often before we are fully aware of what is happening to and around us. As children, we are sent to school long before we grasp the significance of studying, learning, and passing exams, or how these experiences will shape our future. Yet, we quickly fall into a routine, suddenly identifying ourselves as “students”. This label influences how we perceive our lives: classmates become our primary social reference, and academic success may emerge as our central goal. It is during this time that we also begin to form our views on competition, cooperation, and even feelings of envy toward those who outperform us. These early experiences, though not always traumatic in a dramatic sense, can leave lasting imprints on our self-perception, sense of self-worth, and relationships with others. They also shape how we position ourselves in future scholarly endeavours and, ultimately, in society.

One critical aspect I want to address is the formation of a deeply ingrained, and often perverse, reward mechanism that develops at this stage: we begin to equate our self-worth with performance. This mindset is reinforced early on by school and more broadly, by society. The more we achieve, the more valuable we feel, and the more praise we receive. If we are fortunate and motivated enough, we achieve success as students, gaining confidence and a sense of control—an illusion that we understand how the world works. From an early age, we are conditioned not only by the education system but also by family expectations, cultural norms, and economic realities. Some of us grow up believing that degrees, titles and salaries measure success, while others see professional status as the path to earning respect. Equipped with this performance-based reward system, we move into high school and university, where competition intensifies and the pressure to succeed escalates. Over time, this mindset shapes an identity, one we often mistake for our true self. In reality, it is our professional self, a persona is built on achievements and eroded by failures. Admitting shortcomings feels like a threat to this identity, making it difficult to acknowledge mistakes, even to ourselves, let alone share them with others.

Gradually, we begin projecting onto this professional self what we believe we should want, based on social and professional norms. These influences become so deeply embedded that, by the time we enter the workforce, we rarely pause to ask whether we are living according to our own values or those imposed upon us.

This is where the problems begin. At some point, we may project a professional self so far removed from our true self that it no longer serves as a positive challenge but becomes a source of self-deception and frustration. We construct this "ideal" professional identity not to grow, but to suppress parts of ourselves we dislike and conform to external expectations, whether from family, friends, or close relationships. In doing so, we risk losing touch with who we truly are, and over time, this carefully crafted avatar can turn into an “enemy within.” This becomes especially apparent during the transition from academic studies to professional life.  After years of navigating a reward system we could manage through study and exams, we now face a more complex environment, where success is harder to define and control. In science, we are quickly introduced to new metrics of professional worth: the number of publications, their impact (factor), the frequency of invitations to speak, and the size of grants we secure. The game begins. For someone conditioned in a result-driven system, science can easily become a stage for constant self-affirmation. But at what cost? When the professional self dominates, any work-related failure feels personal. This can lead to chronic stress, impostor syndrome, and an inability to enjoy life beyond work. The more we invest in our professional identity, the harder it becomes to separate our self-worth from job performance. I have seen many excellent colleagues (and myself included) drawn into this vortex, sacrificing their personal lives and relationships to seek validation through work. The problem is that the academic system, now functioning like a consumeristic machinery, is built to exploit its members, consuming them until they have nothing left to give.

The search for worth is endless because the benchmarks by which we are measured are constantly changing; it is a moving target. Some people never stop travelling for talks, sacrificing weekends and holidays. Others ignore health issues and live with chronic pain, too committed or too afraid to slow down. Is this a truly fulfilling pursuit? Or is it a quest for meaning, validation, or even a form of escapism?

This is why some experience anxiety about slowing down or even panic at the thought of retirement - without work, they feel like nothing. Leaving academia can feel like a failure: if we are no longer publishing, teaching, or leading projects, how do we prove our worth? I was struck by a recent article in Nature reporting that many scientists are struggling to retire. One of its main conclusions was that ageing scientists often resist retirement to avoid losing their dominant professional identity.  This identity-driven attachment can persist even beyond retirement. Indeed, another widely praised measure of success is one's “legacy”. While this can be seen as a selfless act - training and inspiring the next generation of scientists, it may also conceal a deeper self-affirming strategy: it is through their legacy that many find their meaning and purpose.

This highlights how deeply professional identity can shape our sense of self - sometimes to the point where life outside work feels unimaginable. Yet, this is a double-edged sword. If we fail to recognize that our self-worth cannot rest solely on professional success, we risk falling into a dangerous trap: dedicating all our energy to work at the expense of personal fulfilment. Some may claim that their life and work are perfectly aligned. After all, we spend a significant portion of our lives into work, forming strong social bonds and even personal relationships there. But the question remains: are these relationships truly genuine, or are they extensions of our professional identity - spaces where we seek validation rather than authentic connection?

Another consequence of this dynamic is that our relationships with others sometimes become “instrumental” and, in some cases, even exploitative. In other words, people may be used as a means to reinforce our egos, sometimes by diminishing them and this can give raise to toxic behaviours. A recent article in Science discussed prevalence of mental health issues in science. While it did not explore potential underlying causes, I cannot help wonder whether a misalignment or desynchronization between one’s personal identity and a result-driven professional ego might play a role.

The main point I want to raise is that the sooner we recognise these unhealthy mechanisms, the sooner we can identify solutions, or at least make a conscious, informed choice. Reclaiming the true self requires intentional effort: it involves actively reconstructing our identity beyond professional accomplishments by nurturing passions, building meaningful relationships, and developing a sense of purpose that is not tied to work. This may mean engaging in activities unrelated to career goals and cultivating connections that are not based on professional status. The challenge is not to reject ambition, but to ensure that success does not come at the expense of our identity. Reconnecting with our authentic self involves asking: What do I do when no one is watching? What brings me joy outside of achievement? What values do I hold, regardless of my professional role?

I often tell myself and my closest friends that I spent the first 40 years of my life building my “professional” self, only to realise it was an illusion, and not even a painless one. Now, the challenge is to spend whatever time I have left deconstructing that self and fully embracing the unsettling idea that my “true” self may be an illusion, too.

Note: While academia offers a particularly vivid example of this identity crisis, the issue is undoubtedly widespread, perhaps a more prominent symptom of a self-obsessed society. Many industries, from technology to finance, foster environments where long hours and hyper-productivity are equated with personal worth. The result is the same: a generation of professionals who struggle to separate their identity from their output. Some may see this with pride, but what will our descendants think of us?

Acknowledgment: I would like to thank Stefano Pluchino, Alessandra Stangherlin, and Desirée Schatton, for the numerous discussions about this topic, which led me to elaborate on the presented concept. I would like to thank Jerka Dumic for the feedback and  editing; and Teresa Sarria and Carolyn Ellis from Febs. 

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