What We Don’t Know About Ourselves
How can we become more self-aware, especially when self-awareness requires knowing what we don’t know about ourselves?
In this reflection, I want to share a little about the unconscious and how depth psychology has shaped my own relationship to insight, awareness, and humility.
When I talk about self-awareness here, I’m thinking about what exists within consciousness—and also what exists outside of it. The unconscious is, by definition, the part of us that isn’t immediately accessible to awareness.
In depth psychology, and particularly in the work of Carl Jung, the unconscious is understood to have both a personal and a collective dimension. This means that when I’m exploring what I know—or don’t know—about myself, I’m also inevitably touching something larger than just my individual experience.
One metaphor I find helpful is the image of a wave in the ocean. Each of us is a single wave, distinct and unique, and at the same time inseparable from the ocean itself. There’s a paradox there. What is happening in the broader human community—what is being valued, repressed, denied, or emphasized—can shape our inner lives more than we realize.
Because of this, one doorway into self-awareness is noticing what’s happening in the world around us. What values seem to be in tension right now? What narratives are being pushed forward, and which ones are being pushed aside?
For example, we’re living in a time where productivity is heavily emphasized, while at the same time there’s a growing conversation about rest and burnout. There’s a push toward flexibility and work-from-home, alongside pressure to return to rigid structures. These contradictions can offer useful information. Do I feel carried along by these currents, or am I swimming against them? Where do I feel aligned, and where do I feel friction?
Self-awareness doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It’s always shaped by context.
Another idea from Jung that I return to often is his description of the unconscious as a lake that cannot be drained. To me, this suggests that complete self-awareness is impossible, and that this isn’t a failure, but an invitation to humility.
There will always be something just outside awareness. And when I accept that, I can approach the unconscious with curiosity rather than control. Over time, the more we listen, the more likely we are to recognize unconscious material when it begins to surface.
Most people have experienced this in the form of an aha moment—an insight that seems to arrive out of nowhere. One way of understanding this is that something has moved from the unconscious into conscious awareness.
Depth psychology offers many ways of listening for these movements. One of the most well-known is dream work. For me, this might look like writing down a dream as soon as I wake up, noting not just the content, but the emotions present. Some people draw their dreams, act them out, explore symbols, or even dialogue with figures from the dream. What matters most is the attitude: playful, curious, and non-judgmental.
Patterns in our lives can also point toward unconscious material. Repeating conflicts, familiar triggers, or intense emotional reactions often carry meaning. Paying attention to what activates us, and what those situations have in common, can offer important insight. This kind of exploration can feel unsettling, which is why many people choose to do it with a therapist.
Creative expression is another powerful doorway. Art, writing, movement, or music can allow unconscious material to emerge without requiring it to be immediately explained or labeled.
Even symptoms can be understood in this way, not as failures, but as messages. Sometimes symptoms are like a knock on the door, inviting us to slow down and listen. From a depth psychology perspective, there’s often a movement toward integration, flexibility, and openness. When life becomes too rigid, the psyche may intervene—sometimes through the body—to restore balance.
I want to end by naming that consciousness and unconsciousness are complex, layered, and deeply personal. There is no single right way to approach this work. For me, the most meaningful stance is one of kindness, curiosity, and non-judgment toward myself and others.
Holding both the individual and collective dimensions of experience can be challenging. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s personal and what’s cultural. But even asking that question can open new perspectives and deepen awareness.