I’ve always been curious about people, and I don’t remember ever deciding to be that way, it has simply been part of me for as long as I can remember. Even as a child, I watched people closely, listened to conversations and wondered why they behaved as they did. I paid attention to what people said, but I was often more interested in what sat underneath it, including changes in tone, body language, mood and the atmosphere in a room. My mum would sometimes ask, “What are you looking at?” because I was always watching somebody, trying to work them out or listening to what the adults around me were talking about. At the time, I assumed everybody noticed those things.
Part of that awareness came from growing up around conflict, anger, addiction and uncertainty, where understanding the mood of the people around me often felt important. I became very alert to changes in behaviour and learned to sense when something was not quite right, even when nobody had said anything. I was too young to understand much of what was happening, but I still wanted to know why somebody was angry, why another person stayed quiet or why someone could appear happy while seeming completely different underneath.
A strong instinct to protect people also developed during those years, beginning at home with my mum and younger sister and later continuing at school. I hated seeing children being bullied or left on their own, so I would stand beside them, include them or step in when I felt somebody was being treated unfairly. Teachers sometimes asked younger children who were struggling to spend time with me because they knew I would look after them, although I never thought of it as anything special at the time, it was simply what I felt I should do.
If somebody had met me thirty years ago, they probably would not have described me as the person I am today.
For a long time, I believed appearing strong was the same as being strong, I was wearing many different persona masks, acting and portraying a certain image and standard. I kept a great deal of pain inside, whilst pushing myself hard and expected far more from myself than was always healthy. I could be impatient, angry and very focused on proving myself, while the softer and more vulnerable parts of me stayed hidden. I overthought things, chased high standards and often judged situations quickly, so anybody who knew me then might reasonably read this and think, “That doesn’t sound like the Greg I remember.”
It has taken years for me to become more aware of those parts of myself and more honest about what sat underneath them. Difficult lessons, reflection and working on myself have helped me become calmer, more open and more willing to question my own behaviour, although I still get things wrong and I still catch myself falling into old habits. I do not see that as failure, I see it as feedback to learn from and as part of being human and part of continuing to grow.
Curiosity has remained constant throughout all of it.
I still want to understand why people do what they do, why two people can live through something similar and carry completely different beliefs away from it, or why capable people can spend years doubting themselves while believing thoughts that are neither helpful nor true. The more I learn about people, the more I realise how much of life is influenced by what we have experienced, what we have learned and what we have come to believe without ever stopping to question it.
I see myself as a student of life, because I am still learning about other people, still learning about myself and still finding that every person has something to teach me. I read, reflect and remain inquisitive because I want to understand more, although I know none of us will ever have every answer. That is probably part of what keeps my curiosity alive, there will always be another person, another perspective and another reason to ask why.
I don’t think my curiosity has ever been about having the answers. I believe it has always been about understanding people a little more than I did yesterday. The more I learn about human beings, the more I realise how different we all are, yet how similar many of our fears, hopes, pressures, and struggles really are. That curiosity has never left me, if anything, it has grown stronger with age because every person I meet offers another opportunity to understand life from a perspective, I’ve never experienced myself.
For a long time, I was the person other people relied on.
I was often the one supporting others, protecting people, solving problems, or trying to make things better, yet I rarely allowed other people to see when I was struggling myself. Looking back, I think I spent years believing I needed to be the strong one. It wasn’t something anybody told me to be, it was simply the role I gradually stepped into, and once you’ve lived that way for long enough, asking for support yourself can feel surprisingly difficult.
That has probably been one of the biggest changes in my own life.
Over the years, I’ve learned that strength isn’t about carrying everything on your own. It’s about being honest enough to admit when life feels difficult, asking for help when you need it, and accepting that none of us are supposed to have everything figured out. I still challenge myself, reflect on my own life and catch myself slipping back into old habits from time to time. The difference today is that I recognise them much sooner and understand myself far better than I once did.
I believe our experiences influence us far more than most of us realise, but I also believe they don’t have to define us forever. That belief comes as much from my own life as anything else. I’ve seen how much a person can change when they’re willing to look at themselves honestly, stay curious and remain open to seeing life differently.
Trust has become one of the values I hold most strongly.
If I tell somebody I’ll do something, I’ll do everything I can to keep my word because that’s simply how I try to live my life. I’d rather have an honest conversation than tell somebody what I think they want to hear, even if honesty is sometimes the more difficult choice.
One thing I’ve realised as I’ve grown older is that people often see the version of us, we allow them to see.
For many years, people probably saw somebody who appeared confident, capable, and strong. Very few saw the pressure I placed on myself, the overthinking, the self-doubt, or the quieter parts of me that stayed hidden. Becoming more comfortable with that side of myself hasn’t happened overnight and it’s still something I continue working on. I don’t see vulnerability as weakness anymore, I see it as part of being human, and accepting that has probably brought me more peace than anything else.
I’m still curious, I’m still learning and I still ask why.
I don’t think that will ever change and I genuinely hope it never does, because the day I stop being curious about people is probably the day I stop growing myself.