i don’t even 
fully know myself
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My parents know everything. Well almost
Jacques Lacan likes that.
Apparently not.
noone knows me.
but i know myself.
a few close friends DO know me tho
somone special knows me inside out
ps: my parents know me the least
I’ve been told by women that I’m dark and mysterious. I try to conduct myself professionally. If I acted on impulses, no one would like me.
Yeah my parents know pretty much all about me , for everyone else I try to give my best and hold a bit back , just for me…
We are all mysteries to ourselves and to each other. I could write a book on the word “know”.
Yeah, some old friends know me, they’ve seen my entire range of states, my shrinks know me, and my mother and father know me. My extended family- some of them really know me, some of them saw me as a child but less once I became a teen, but one of them and I have a closer, special relationship- I would definitely say that he knows me- and I know him!
No. This is actually something I’ve been discussing in therapy.
In other people’s defense though I only ever present one aspect of myself to everyone.
cc: @Anna @mortimermouse @saurav1 @anon80629714 @Sarad
If it is true that we are constantly changing… and it is only possible to know oneself in the brief moment of knowing (which can never be accurately stored, because memory is inherently unreliable at the constantly changing neurochemical level), is it actually possible to separate the observer from the observed?
That said, can’t one know oneself (at least) “better” (or relatively more accurately) by observing to notice to recognize to acknowledge to accept to own to appreciate to understand what one thinks, feels, says and does?
And what would be the result of that? Would one become better able to navigate the highways of one’s life?
Or should we just go on believing what our parents, our teachers, our preachers, the toob, the newspapers, the magazines, the authorities tells us we are?
What do you think?
I stand alone, and always have none of the stuff you mentioned has shaped me. It’s my experiences that have shaped me. It is what I have read, defended, lived through, and cared about.
My mum can still tell if I need to burp before I know it myself from behind
My husband doesn’t know my full sexual history
Saint Augustine used to say this about time:
What then is time? If no one asks me, I know what it is. If I wish to explain it to him who asks, I do not know.
This is similar to how I know myself.
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You already said it… I hardly know myself…