We are often told that understanding ourselves is the key to making better choices. But how much can we really discover about who we are?
Most of us probably think we know ourselves reasonably well.
We know what we like. We know what irritates us. We have a sense of whether we’re outgoing or reserved, cautious or adventurous, organised or chaotic.
Then something happens that doesn’t quite fit.
We stay calm in a situation where we expected to panic. We turn down an opportunity we thought we desperately wanted. We become friends with somebody we assumed we’d dislike. Or someone describes us in a way that bears very little resemblance to how we see ourselves.
It raises an interesting question.
How well do we actually know ourselves?
Why is it so difficult to see ourselves clearly?
We experience everything from inside our own heads.
That sounds obvious, but it creates an unusual problem. We know our intentions, worries and explanations. Other people only see what we actually do.
Suppose you cancel plans because you’ve had an exhausting week. To you, there’s an obvious explanation.
To a friend who has been cancelled on several times, you might simply appear unreliable.
Neither perspective necessarily tells the whole story.
Understanding ourselves therefore isn’t just about asking what we think or feel. Sometimes it means paying attention to what we repeatedly do.
Are we the person we think we are?
We all have a story about ourselves.
“I don’t care what people think.”
“I’m terrible at making decisions.”
“I’m shy.”
“I’m very independent.”
“I’m just not a creative person.”
Some of those descriptions may be accurate. Others may have been true once and simply remained part of the story.
Perhaps you were shy at school but aren’t particularly shy now. Perhaps you struggled with something years ago and still assume you’re bad at it.
The interesting question is whether our description of ourselves still matches the evidence.
Sometimes we change before our idea of ourselves catches up.
What can our habits tell us?
Our everyday behaviour can be surprisingly revealing.
Imagine somebody says that spending time with family is their greatest priority, but almost every free weekend is spent working.
That doesn’t necessarily mean family isn’t important to them. There could be perfectly understandable reasons for the discrepancy.
But the gap between what we say matters and how we actually spend our time is worth noticing.
The same applies to money, friendships, health, work and relationships.
Where does your time go?
What do you repeatedly postpone?
What do you make time for even when you’re busy?
Our choices don’t provide a perfect map of who we are, but patterns can tell us things that good intentions sometimes hide.
Why do other people sometimes see us differently?
Ask five people to describe you and you might receive five slightly different versions.
Your colleagues may see somebody confident and decisive.
Your oldest friends may still think of you as the person who could never decide where to go for dinner.
Your family may see another version entirely.
This doesn’t necessarily mean anyone is wrong.
Different situations bring out different parts of us.
Feedback can still be useful, particularly when several unrelated people notice the same characteristic.
You don’t have to accept every opinion somebody has about you. But occasionally another person’s observation gives us something worth examining.
Can difficult situations teach us more about ourselves?
Often they can.
It’s relatively easy to believe we’re patient when nothing is testing our patience.
Pressure has a way of revealing things.
How do you respond when a plan goes wrong? What happens when somebody criticises you? Do you withdraw from conflict, confront it immediately or spend three days composing the perfect response in your head?
None of these reactions defines your entire personality.
But they can reveal patterns.
And once we’ve noticed a pattern, we have more choice about whether we want to continue it.
What about personality tests?
Personality tests can be entertaining and sometimes useful as prompts for reflection.
Seeing a description and thinking, “That’s exactly me,” can encourage us to consider characteristics we hadn’t consciously recognised.
But a result shouldn’t become a set of instructions for who we are allowed to be.
Human beings don’t fit perfectly into neat categories.
If a test tells you you’re an introvert, that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a party. If it describes you as highly organised, you’re still allowed to have a drawer containing twenty unidentified cables.
Perhaps the most useful question isn’t whether a personality test has correctly defined you.
It’s whether it has made you think about yourself differently.
Can we discover what we really want?
This may be considerably harder than discovering what we like.
We’re surrounded by ideas about what a successful life is supposed to look like.
A particular career. A relationship. A certain income. A particular kind of home. Travel. Children. Recognition. Freedom.
Sometimes we pursue something for years before wondering whether we actually wanted it in the first place.
One useful distinction is between wanting the experience and wanting what the experience represents.
Do you want the senior job because you would enjoy doing it, or because the title represents success?
Do you want to move somewhere new because you’d enjoy living there, or because starting again sounds appealing?
There isn’t necessarily a wrong answer.
But knowing which question we’re answering can be revealing.
Perhaps self-discovery isn’t about finding a hidden version of ourselves
The phrase “finding yourself” can make it sound as though there’s a finished person hidden somewhere inside us, waiting to be uncovered.
Perhaps that’s not quite how it works.
We change.
Experiences change us. Relationships change us. Age changes us. Success and disappointment change us.
The person you understood perfectly ten years ago may not be exactly the person you are today.
So perhaps self-discovery isn’t something we complete.
It’s something we periodically revisit.
We notice what we do. We question assumptions we’ve made about ourselves. We listen when something surprises us. And occasionally we discover that a belief we’ve carried around for years no longer fits.
Understanding ourselves may never be perfect.
But perhaps the useful part isn’t reaching a final answer.
It’s continuing to ask the question.