“The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.”
Carl Jung
There’s a quiet confusion I’ve often found, both in myself and in conversations with others, between who we are and how aware we are of ourselves. At first glance, they sound the same, don’t they? Self-awareness. Self-identity. Two sides of the same coin. But the more I’ve lived into these words, the more I’ve come to sense the space between them. And that space, I believe, is where a lot of inner freedom begins.
I’m sharing this not as some abstract philosophical distinction, but as something that’s shown up in real and sometimes uncomfortable ways in my own journey.
For a long time, I mistook my identity for awareness. If I could describe myself, my preferences, quirks, emotional tendencies, what kind of coffee I liked, how I reacted to certain people or situations, I felt that was enough. “I know myself,” I’d think. But what I was really doing was carrying a mental file folder titled Sakshi, full of stories and roles and definitions I’d gathered over time. Some I chose. Some were handed to me. And some, if I’m honest, I never questioned until much later.
This is what I now call self-identity. It’s the narrative we hold about ourselves. It includes our names, our careers, our cultural backgrounds, our Enneagram types (if you’re into that), our favourite books, even the wounds we carry. And while all of this matters, it doesn’t always mean we’re aware in the present moment.
What Awareness feels like
Because self-awareness is something else. It’s subtler. Less stable. And far more alive.
It’s the capacity to observe ourselves in real time. To catch the micro-movements of thought, reaction, assumption. To notice when I say yes, but I mean no. To feel the tug in my chest when a boundary is crossed, and instead of pushing it away, to get curious. It’s that split second when I hear myself judging someone, and instead of collapsing into guilt or doubling down on the judgment, I pause and ask, what’s that about?
Self-awareness is less about what we see and more about how we see.
How Identity can obstruct awareness
And this is where it gets interesting. Because sometimes our identities, the ones we hold so tightly, can actually block our awareness. We become so loyal to the story we’ve told about who we are that we stop seeing what’s changing in us. We resist the contradiction. We shut down the parts that don’t fit neatly into our self-image.
For instance, if I see myself as a “calm and understanding” person, I might struggle to acknowledge when I’m feeling angry or jealous or impatient. Those feelings don’t align with the identity, so I ignore or suppress them. But they don’t go away. They just operate underground. And that’s where a lack of awareness can quietly take root, beneath the surface of a very “well-defined” self.
Let Awareness interrupt
What’s more honest, I’ve found, is to let self-awareness interrupt self-identity from time to time.
To say- yes, this is who I’ve known myself to be, but is it still true? Is there something I’m not seeing? Am I willing to look, even if it means loosening the grip on a familiar self-definition? Sometimes, self-awareness shows up like a mirror we didn’t ask for. And yet, it’s the only mirror that doesn’t lie.
It has revealed to me not just the parts I’m proud of, but also the patterns I’d rather not own. The fear of failure disguised as perfectionism. The need to over-explain myself. The moments where I didn’t listen as deeply as I thought I did.
Identity can feel like something to prove or protect.
Awareness doesn’t want you to become something. It simply wants you to see.
And when you do, when even for a moment you’re able to witness yourself without flinching or justifying or controlling, that’s where change becomes possible. Not because you’re fixing yourself, but because you’re finally in relationship with yourself. Not just the idea of you, but the you that is actually here. Right now.
“Knowing Yourself” isn’t enough
One of the hardest truths I’ve had to swallow is that I can be deeply self-identified and still not be self-aware. I can know exactly what I believe and how I like my tea and what I want from life, but still be blind to my triggers, my defence mechanisms, or the quiet ways I self-abandon.
That’s why, these days, I’m more interested in staying awake than staying consistent.
I don’t want to be boxed in by a past version of myself just because I said “this is who I am” five years ago, or even five weeks ago. I want the freedom to notice what’s real now. And to respond from that place, even if it surprises me. Even if it surprises others.
Final Thought
This isn’t easy, of course. Identity brings comfort. Awareness brings truth. And truth often brings discomfort. But it also brings choice. And for me, that’s worth everything.
So no, self-awareness is not self-identity. It’s not a fixed label. It’s not a brand. It’s not a curated bio or a personality quiz result. It’s the living, breathing capacity to witness yourself, in your light and your shadows, and to do so with enough compassion that you don’t need to be anyone else but exactly who you are, in this moment.
