Thanks to the wonderful gift of self-consciousness, which is the root cause of our daily suffering, we are doomed to contemplate who we are, what we consist of, and how good or bad these elements of the self actually are for ourselves and everyone around us. The debate of the self already baffled Buddhists and philosophers way before sliced bread or adverts that tell us everything that’s wrong with us were invented. It’s easy to start contemplating our own self, its characteristics and actions, when we are the only ones we will literally spend an entire lifetime with. Since that’s usually quite a lot of time for the lucky ones among us (or unfortunate ones, in case you’re a cynic who sees life as a futile stop we have to make within a fraction of time and space within existence itself), thinking about who we are to ourselves and others is an inevitability we can’t escape.
It can be hard to pinpoint who that person is that’s inhabiting our bodies, especially when all definitions are perceptual and vary depending on who the judge is. Since we are a different person to everyone we meet, it’s easy to fall into the trap of letting others define who you are instead of trying to find out yourself. Our species has become good at adapting to whatever situation we’re in, and whoever is taking part in it with us. This is why sometimes it feels like we can create an alter-ego for every different reality or story we’re living, to a degree where we completely lose or forget the essence of our self, in case there even is such a thing in the first place. It’s obvious that we behave differently towards our grandmother than our close friend, our boss, teacher, or a nun, but does that mean that we are only putting on an act, or are we bringing out another part of us while the core essence of our character perseveres throughout the change?
I have mentioned before that whenever someone asks me where I am from, my brain goes into a tiny identity crisis for a split second. When you can identify with the characteristics or traits of a nationality and feel a sense of belonging to a larger group, it’s usually easier to let these roots remind you of who you are. If it’s our childhood and memories that helped shape and create the person we are today, it can be coming back to that past which helps you to identify the centre of your self again. All my moving around has prevented me from completely relating to one identity as a whole - my bilinguality didn’t exactly help either - and I tend to blame my occasional sense of losing who I am partly, but also mostly, on that. As much as we change and adapt according to our experiences, there must be something recognisable about the future selves that we get to meet. Is there really a personal essence or character that perseveres throughout time? And if so, is there a way to channel it or be in control of it?
Buddhism and modern psychology have both talked about the issue of not being entirely in control of the self, and that letting go of that notion that the self is separate from us could decrease suffering as we’d be able to detach ourselves from pain and uncomfortable emotions. However, definitions and interpretations on this vary, as some argue that Buddhist teachings encourage you to detach yourself from the self and what it consists of in order to achieve liberation, instead of trying to be in control of it. Endless amounts of books have been written on self-discipline and control and how to overcome negative traits about our personalities to improve areas in life. But if we manage to overcome our own personality, to which degree do we then adapt to a new forced change without being inauthentic? Isn’t learning about our flawed and raw selves a way to find out about the core elements of our character and personality? Should we perhaps even stop trying to control it and just let it do whatever it wants to do impulsively, as that’s one way to let it communicate with us on a deeper and more personal level?
Perhaps the reason why we try so hard to control the self is not only because our fluid personalities confuse us and make us wonder who we really are, but because we can minimise suffering if we objectify this self or personality. It’s frustrating not being able to relate to yourself, your actions and your words, as if you’re constantly detached from what should be the closest to you. Taking responsibility for this objectified self, and the emotions that are attached to it, could maybe be the only way for us to take control of our personality and shape it the way we want it to be. As the self is dependent on the body to exist, we can realise that we are the self; there is no separate identity. Maybe if we reach a point where we see and experience these two as one, we can finally get to know the person we really are. A person that’s hiding underneath all the layers of the personalities we’ve created to adapt to others, someone we can learn to live unapologetically - whoever that person might be.
