The Mind as Maze: Do We Ever Truly Understand Ourselves?

> Hey, actually — it’s not just me or you.

There are studies that say most people don’t really know themselves the way they think they do.

Psychologists have found that we behave differently depending on where we are, who we’re with, and what we expect from ourselves in that moment.

So if you’ve ever looked back and thought, “Why did I act like that?” or “That doesn’t feel like me anymore,” you’re not alone.

It’s not confusion — it’s human nature.

There was a time I liked something so obsessively, it could’ve passed as part of my identity. Now, I can’t stand it. That shift alone makes me wonder:

If I’m no longer who I was then, does that version of me even count as “me” anymore?

And that’s just one crack in the mirror.

You dig a little deeper, and everything starts to blur — memory, emotion, identity, self-perception.

We say, “I remember how I felt.” But research shows we don’t really remember the original moment — we remember the last time we remembered it.

Each time, we reconstruct it. Tweak it slightly. Filter it through current emotions. Memory is more remix than replay.

So when I say I know myself — am I really referring to who I am?

Or just who I believe I was the last time I checked?

Add emotions into the mix and things get messier.

In a peaceful mood, I might see myself as calm, composed, maybe even wise.

But in anger, I become someone else — reactive, impatient, someone I might not even like.

Afterwards, I think, “That wasn’t me.”

But it was. It was just a different part of the same system.

This is where a strange little thing called cognitive dissonance kicks in.

It’s when your actions don’t match your beliefs — and your brain feels the itch of the mismatch.

Like when someone says they want to be healthy but still smokes every day.

That contradiction creates pressure inside the mind. So what happens?

They either change the action (quit smoking), change the belief (decide health doesn’t matter), or find a clever excuse to keep both going.

I’ve done this too. Once, I lied and said I wasn’t home because I didn’t want to meet someone. But I felt weird lying — off-balance, fake. So what did I do? I actually left the house just to make the lie come true.

Funny in hindsight, but also… kind of revealing.

It showed me that we’ll go to wild lengths just to keep our inner identity consistent — or at least, believable.

And it doesn’t stop there.

Around my family, I’m one version of myself — obedient, quiet, respectful.

With friends, I’m more sarcastic, casual, maybe even chaotic.

Alone, I’m a different person altogether — thoughtful, quiet, sometimes philosophical, sometimes numb.

Which one is real?

Psychology calls this the Multiple Selves theory — the idea that we carry many versions of “me” inside us, and they show up depending on where we are.

Philosopher Charles Cooley took it even further. He said we form our identity based on how we think others see us.

Not how we see ourselves. Not even how others actually see us.

But how we imagine they see us.

So maybe I’m not even reacting to people.

Maybe I’m reacting to my own assumptions about how they might react to me.

Wild, right?

The deeper I go into this mental maze, the more it feels like there is no “real” version of me.

Just fragments. Reflections. Reactions.

And yet… despite knowing all this, I still want to feel like I know who I am.

Like there’s a core somewhere beneath the shifting thoughts, moods, faces, and phases.

But what if there isn’t?

Philosopher David Hume once wrote, “I never can catch myself without a perception.”

Meaning — there’s no solid self hiding underneath it all.

Just feelings. Sensations. Thoughts passing through.

So maybe the self isn’t a fixed destination.

Maybe it’s a story we write again and again, changing the words just enough each time to feel like it still makes sense.

Maybe trying to “find ourselves” is like trying to hold water in our hands.

The tighter we grip, the more it slips.

And still… we search.

We look for ourselves in memories, in mirrors, in other people’s eyes, in quiet 3 a.m. thoughts.

Sometimes we feel close. Sometimes not at all.

But the question remains:

If I ever came face-to-face with the real me… would I even recognize him?

> — ThatOneGuy