Why Knowing Yourself Means Realizing You Don’t

When I was younger, I believed I knew myself quite well. I could list my likes and dislikes, my values, my goals, and my personality traits. I thought self-awareness was a box to be checked—something you achieve once you’ve done enough reflecting. But as I got older, something strange started to happen. The more I lived, the more I realized how much of myself I didn’t understand.

After spending several years in counselling, this feeling only deepened. I uncovered habits, patterns, fears, and stories I didn’t even know I carried. It was like discovering hidden rooms in a house I thought I knew. I began to understand that despite thinking I knew myself pretty well, I really didn’t at all. I continued digging deeper into theories of the mind, human development, consciousness, and behavior. I experimented with ideas, reflected constantly, and turned inward with more and more curiosity..

But here’s the paradox: the more I learned, the more I realized how much there was still left to understand. In fact, the depth of what I didn’t know seemed to grow faster than the knowledge I was gaining. Each insight opened the door to five more questions. Each layer revealed another layer beneath it. It felt like walking toward the horizon—the closer I got, the further it seemed to stretch away.

So now, when I hear someone say, “I know myself pretty well,” or “I understand myself better than most,” I don’t question their sincerity—I see it as a snapshot of their current stance. And I catch myself thinking, Ah, that’s what I used to say too. Not with judgment, but with a quiet nod to the mystery: they might be just starting out, or perhaps a step beyond where I once stood—how far, neither of us can truly measure—yet still entwined in the same paradox I’ve come to embrace, a process that endlessly deepens without ever fully resolving.