She was a woman no judge could ignore. She had a voice, arguments, confidence. Her colleagues called her “Madam Lawyer” and pronounced the title with respect. When she represented her client in a child custody case, she showed such passion as if she were fighting for her own child’s life.
But at home, she was someone else. A mother willing to sing lullabies for two hours every night to calm her son. A wife who hid her opinion about dinner so as not to hurt her husband’s feelings. A daughter who visited her mother every Friday and stayed silent when her mother judged her about remarrying.
One night, her twelve-year-old daughter, Sara, came out of her room while Leila was checking work emails and said: “Mom, today at school there was an essay contest. The topic was: ‘The person I most want to be like.’ I thought of you.”
Leila herself didn’t know which one was “truly” her. The lawyer Leila in court? The mother Leila at home? Or a third version who, in the solitude of the night when everyone was asleep, stared at the ceiling and whispered, “What if…”? That night, Leila didn’t sleep. But not because of work, not because of worrying about the children. Because of a question her daughter had unknowingly planted inside her: “Who are you when no one is watching?”
If we don’t know our core values, we will be like an unanchored ship driven in any direction by the wind. Repeated failures can also destroy our self‑confidence and create the belief that we are incapable of doing anything. But deeper than both lies another factor: lack of self‑awareness. Self‑awareness and unconditional self‑acceptance are necessary conditions for achieving “the good life” [11]. If we are not aware of our deepest desires, fears, motives, and recurring behavioral patterns, how can we have a stable and enduring identity?
On this path, we should not be alone. Family and friends who love us unconditionally – not for our successes, not for the role we play – and who stand by us without judgment, can be a powerful shield against hardships. Workplaces that respect individual differences and allow people to express their authentic selves – within reason – are very valuable. Also, finding people with similar interests and perspectives, even if few in number, strengthens our sense of belonging and reduces loneliness. Research shows that the quality of social relationships (number of close friends and depth of connection) is a stronger predictor of mental health than the quantity of relationships (number of followers on social media) [12].
But perhaps the deepest obstacle is the fear of being alone with one’s real self. Many of us have become accustomed to filling our minds with external stimuli – phone, TV, extra work, aimless shopping, untimely eating, even excessive exercise – so we don’t have to sit in silence and face what is going on inside us. An interesting study in this area shows that many people find being alone with themselves so uncomfortable that they prefer to give themselves electric shocks [13]. Yes, you read that correctly: being alone with oneself is so painful for some people that they choose physical pain instead. What is the root of this fear of the real self? Probably the hidden belief that “if I really get to know myself, I will hate what I see.” But research evidence shows the opposite: self‑knowledge, even when it reveals our unpleasant aspects, has a positive correlation with life satisfaction and self‑compassion in the long term [14].
Core exercise of this subchapter: “Reverse narrative”
Choose one important decision in your life – a decision made at least three years ago whose outcome you can clearly see. For example: marriage, separation, choosing a field of study, job change, migration, having a child, quitting a habit.
Now, create an imaginary scenario: Suppose you are now five years after that decision. You know the final outcome (good or bad). From that endpoint, go backwards. Write the narrative in reverse order, from end to beginning. For example:
*”Now (five years later) I know that decision led to this outcome: … Three years after the decision, this happened: … One year after the decision, this happened: … Six months after the decision, this happened: … One week after the decision, this happened: … On the day of the decision, what exactly was I thinking and feeling?”*
Now, after writing this reverse narrative, ask yourself:
1. If I had known five years ago that I would reach this outcome, would I still make the same decision? Why or why not?
2. Who plays the hero in this reverse narrative? (i.e., who influenced the decision-making – yourself? someone else? fear? love? social pressure?)
3. In this narrative, did “you” change along the way or stay the same? If you changed, at what point exactly?
Sensory exercise: Drawing a feeling without using words
Do this exercise in two stages:
Stage one (drawing for yourself):
Choose a vague, complex feeling – for example, “feeling trapped between two roles that I both love,” or “the feeling I get when on the phone with my mother,” or “that strange feeling after a long work meeting.” On a blank piece of paper, without using any words, numbers, or human figures, draw this feeling using only lines, dots, blobs, and colors. It doesn’t have to be beautiful, nor does it have to make sense. It just has to convey the “feeling.” Give yourself 5 minutes.
Stage two (drawing for another – imaginary):
Now imagine you want to explain the same feeling to someone who doesn’t know you, but again without words. Draw another picture, this time in a way that a stranger could guess what you were feeling. (You don’t need to show it to anyone, just imagine.)
Now put both drawings side by side and look at them. Write down three words that the first drawing brings to mind. Write three different words for the second drawing. Now compare these six words with the three words you have always used to describe yourself (e.g., “calm,” “perfectionist,” “worried”). Do any of the words from the drawings appear in your usual self‑descriptions? If not, that means you had never named those feelings before. Maybe it’s time.
For those in a hurry:
Conflicting life roles (mother at home, manager at work, friend in a group) are normal and even healthy. But when this conflict reaches a crisis point – when you no longer know which role is “real” and constantly feel like you are lying – it indicates a lack of a “core value center.” A short‑term solution (without needing years of therapy):
1. Define three non‑negotiable values for yourself. For example: “honesty,” “peace,” “learning.” These are your red lines; no role is allowed to violate them.
2. Once a day, before entering any role‑based situation (work meeting, family gathering, friendly get‑together), ask yourself: “Does this role align with my three values? If not, which part of the role can I change without abandoning the role entirely?”
3. Every night, spend one minute thinking: “Today, in which role was I closest to my real self?” Learn from that role – not to copy it, but to understand where that “feeling of closeness” came from.
For those who want to go deeper:
– Book: *On Becoming a Person* by Carl Rogers (Persian translation by Dr. Mehdi Dabiri). Rushd Publications.
– Book: *Psychology of Personality from a Humanistic Perspective* by Mohsen Ahmadi. Savalan Publications.
– Article: “The Relationship between Quality of Social Relationships and Mental Health” by Zahra Kargar, Mohammad Hossein Zarghami. *Journal of Clinical Psychology*, 2017, No. 15.
– Article: “Self‑Knowledge and Self‑Compassion” by Elahe Heydari, Majid Saffarinia. *Journal of Positive Psychology*, 2019, No. 3.
Open question for this subchapter:
Now you tell me: If you had to set aside one of your roles for an entire year (for example, no longer be “someone’s child,” or no longer be a “colleague,” or no longer be a “group member”), which role would you choose, and after removing it, what would remain of you? Would that remaining thing satisfy you or terrify you?
