Who am I: Dancehall Lyrics or Psychotherapy Concept?

When presented with the question "Who am I?", my mind automatically responded with "d gyal dem sugar". So entrenched is Beenie Man in my experience as a Caribbean person that even though I do not consider myself as "d gyal dem sugar" (feel free to pause and have a giggle like I did here), it's the paired association my mind created.

And I wonder when you think about the question of "who am I?" what does your mind tell you in that moment? Does your mind, like mine, sing "d gyal dem sugar" or maybe one of the labels we give ourselves – like I'm a fraud, I'm smart, I'm not good enough, I'm shy? Perhaps it's the roles you hold – like mum, uncle, friend? Or the things you feel you aren't doing well enough – I'm a terrible person, I'm not coping, I'm a failure?

Our minds are incredible – they help us to make sense of the world around us, plan parties, get lost in a book, imagine and dream, create new things and decide which flavour yogurt to buy.

It's not just the labels we give ourselves but it's also the labels others give us. Again drawing on my love of dancehall music, remember when Bounty Killa sang: "Look into my eyes, tell me what you see, can you feel my pain? Am I your enemy?"

The labels that I've been given, amongst my children's favourite of "mean mummy" (a label I gratefully accept when I'm holding a boundary of no Haribo two minutes before dinner), are "chinee gyal, kind, not a British therapist, compassionate, not good at maths" to name a few.

These labels, qualities, roles, descriptions and self-stories all swirl around in our heads and make up our conceptualized self. One of my absolute favourite exercises to do as a therapist is the "Big I, little i" exercise – and here's why. Our tricky mind tries to define us by one thing but we are more than just that one thing. And often, after we experience a loss, it can feel like that role is lost forever. But for me, 29 years after losing my grandmother, I have continued to lean into my role as granddaughter, especially in the moments as I'm making sada roti.

So I invite you to grab a cuppa, ask yourself "Who am I?" and notice what shows up for you.

I was not made to fit into a single box, none of us were.