Iβm Melody, i'm a physician π©π»ββοΈπ§ I finished medical school in 2017, specialized in pediatric neurosurgery, and spent years training in one of the most demanding, structured, and hierarchical environments you can imagine. I loved the science (and I still do) The brain, learning, development, decision-makingβ¦ all of that genuinely fascinates me β¨ But somewhere along the wayβ¦ something shifted. Not because of medicine itself.But because the space started feeling too narrow. Too narrow for thinking out loud. Too narrow for questions without a clean protocol answer. Too narrow for conversations about how people actually learn, decide, organize their lives, and make sense of complexity. Too narrow for being human, not just βcompetentβ. Today, outside of what I know as the consulting room, here, in this beautiful network, I received a message from a member of one of my communities. He lives with a condition on the autism spectrum - and I like to put it this way - yes, HE moves through it; autism does not move through him. He told me something simple. He shared the community with his mom. So now theyβre both there. Learning together. Reading together. Thinking together. Being curious side by side π€ And THENβ¦ MY WORLD STOPPED. Because that message held everything I had been missing. That quiet, powerful moment of connection. That reminder that learning is relational. That knowledge makes more sense when itβs shared with love. That message filled my entire day with warmth π«Ά And it helped me understand why I had been feeling uncomfortable in my old professional boxes. I was craving conversations that didnβt fit neatly into my formal training. Conversations about focus, cognition, mental load, systems, intuition. About how our brains behave when life gets messy. About learning that connects knowledge with real life. So I started learning outside the traditional paths π± I studied more. I explored neurodiversity and disability through a family-centered lens. I worked with teams. I built educational projects.