You’ve Been Lied To: Why You Can’t Define Yourself

A Journey Rooted in the Divine Image and Human Reason 

Confessions of a Failed Philosopher:

A Journey from Reason to Hope

I am not what I think I am, and I am not what you think I am. I am what I think you think I am.- ---Charles Horton Cooley

I: The Crisis of Self-Definition

Some years ago, I stood in the ruins of the Poenari Castle also known as Poenari Citadel (Cetatea Poenari), in Romania which was a home of Vlad the Impaler also known as the inspiration of Dracula. The citadel is situated on top of a mountain and accessed by climbing 1,480 concrete stairs in the Romania countryside of Transylvania. The parts of it had collapsed over 500 years ago. Ivy climbed the crumbled stone. Rain fell freely where once incense rose. And yet, standing in that broken place, I felt an odd sense of reverence—not for what remained, but for what had once stood whole. It struck me then that the modern self is much like that cathedral: once built to reflect something transcendent, now gutted by storms of doubt and centuries of cultural erosion. This chapter is my attempt to walk those ruins—to trace the architectural remnants of personhood in an age obsessed with self-invention. It is not a lament for the past, but a call to rediscover the sacredness of the human person, not as a project of our own making, but as a gift forged in relationship—with others, and with God—which I will wrestle with later.

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Many of us wear roles like masks, like Shakespeare mused, “all the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players”—we play the part of the student, parent, activist, influencer—but the longer we wear these masks, or roles, the harder they are to remove. Eventually, we forget we had a face beneath them at all.

The way I see our identity is multifaceted, like the various parts of a castle.

There is the public persona –The outer courtyard. The king’s throne room. What people think you are, or your reputation

There is our private persona –The king’s dining and living quarters. What your family and personal friends know you to be when no one else is there.

There is our inner persona – The inner chambers of the King’s private bedroom. it is what’s in your private journal and your thoughts. What your inner thoughts and feelings confirm to you about yourself

There is our unconscious persona. –This is the King’s dungeon. The underground caverns that even the royal family does not know about. It’s what you pretend is not there, but it controls and manipulates your life.—This is the Shadow side. Most people do not even realize this is there!

One of the famous points made by Carl Jung is:

"Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will rule your life and you will call it fate."

Basically if you do not uncover what is in the dungeon of your life, it will keep controlling you from the shadows. Now let us unpack this.

Who Are You Really? The Brutal Truth About Identity in a Confused World

(And Why Getting It Wrong Destroys Lives)

Alright. Sit up straight. Pay attention. This matters more than you think.

You wake up every morning, look in the mirror, and think you know who’s staring back. "I’m Dave," you say. "I’m a mechanic. A dad. A Cubs fan." Seems solid, right? But what if that ‘you’ is thinner than smoke? What if you’re building your life on quicksand?

I’ve spent decades studying what makes people collapse – and what makes them stand. Let me show you the wreckage when we get identity wrong… and the staggering power of getting it right.

The Man Who Decided He Was a Little Girl (And The Trail of Tears He Left)

Meet Paul Wolscht. Seems like a nice enough guy on the surface. Fifty-two years old. Worked as a mechanic in Toronto. Had a wife. Seven kids. Lived a normal life.

Then, in 2015, he dropped a bomb. He didn’t just say he felt like a woman trapped in a man’s body (a complex struggle many face). He declared he wasn’t Stefonknee the husband and father anymore. He declared he was a six-year-old girl named "Stefonknee."

He left his family. He moved in with a different couple who agreed to treat him like their little girl. Picture it: A grown man, playing with stuffed animals, coloring books, having bedtime stories read to him. The media called it "courage." They celebrated his "authenticity."

Here’s what the cameras didn’t show:

• His 12-year-old son quit school. Haunted by guilt, he whispered, "Did I kill my dad?"

• His wife, shattered, worked brutal night shifts at a hospital. Her wedding ring? Tossed in a drawer. A 23-year marriage erased.

• His 19-year-old daughter tried to end her life. She used one of his mechanic’s blades. On her arm, she scrawled a desperate plea: "Make him come back."

Asked if he missed his children, Stefonknee hugged a teddy bear and said, "I have new parents now."

This isn’t courage. This is a catastrophe. This is what happens when someone mistakes a desperate feeling for the deepest truth about who they are. He didn’t find himself; he atomized himself and took his family down with him. He traded the crushing, beautiful responsibility of fatherhood for the empty freedom of a fantasy. He abandoned his post.

The Three Layers of Your "Self" (And Why You're Probably Stuck in the First One)

So, who are you, really? It’s not simple. Think of it like layers again:

1. The Mask You Wear (What You Think Others Think You Are):
   This is the face you show the world. The "LinkedIn You." The "Party You." The "Good Son/Daughter You." You constantly adjust it based on what gets applause or avoids sneers. You think, "I am who I think YOU think I am." Stefonknee swapped his "Mechanic Dad" mask for a "Six-Year-Old Girl" mask. But it’s still just a mask. It’s exhausting. It’s fragile. And it’s not you.

2. The Shadow You Hide (What You Pretend Isn't There):
   Buried deep – often very deep – is everything you refuse to admit about yourself. Shameful desires. Painful memories. Weaknesses. Fears. Anger. The parts you think are too ugly, too dark, too unacceptable. This is your Shadow. Stefonknee didn’t confront his Shadow – maybe pain, maybe regret, maybe a terror of aging or responsibility. He ran from it. Straight into a nightmare dressed like a childhood dream. Until you drag your Shadow into the light, it will control you. You’ll call it "fate" or "my truth," but it’s just your hidden darkness pulling the strings.

3. The Potential You (The Self You Could Be):
   This isn't about inventing a new fantasy self. It’s about uncovering the real you beneath the mask and integrating the Shadow. This is the self built on responsibility, truth, and sacrifice. It’s the self that endures hardship for a higher purpose, like a father staying present for his kids even when it’s agonizing. This self isn’t "found" through wishes; it’s forged through confronting the difficult realities of your life.

Why "Just Be Yourself!" Is Terrible Advice (And What To Do Instead)

The modern world screams at you: "Be yourself! Follow your heart! Your truth is inside you!" This is a dangerous half-truth. Your "heart" can be a mess of conflicting desires and hidden wounds. Your "inner truth" can be a Shadow puppet show.

Look at the wreckage Stefonknee left. Look at the epidemic of loneliness, anxiety, and broken families. This "expressive individualism" – the idea that your deepest feelings define reality – it’s a one-way ticket to chaos. It confuses what I feel with what is true and good.

So what’s the alternative?

1. Stop Listening Only to Your Feelings: Your feelings matter. They are signals. But they are not infallible guides. A compass spinning wildly tells you nothing useful.

2. Confront Your Shadow: This is brutal, essential work. What are you running from? What are you ashamed of? What pain are you avoiding? Look at it. Name it. Therapy helps. Honest self-reflection helps. Stop pretending the darkness isn’t there.

3. Take Responsibility: This is the antidote to chaos. Clean your room. Face your obligations. Show up for the people counting on you. Your meaning comes not from indulging every feeling, but from bearing a necessary burden well. Stefonknee abandoned his sacred responsibility to his children. That path leads only to hell.

4. Seek Something Higher: You are not just a random collection of atoms or feelings. The deepest wisdom traditions (like Christianity) speak of the "Imago Dei" – you are made in the Image of God. This isn't about being perfect. It means your core value isn't earned by your achievements or your feelings. It's bestowed. It means you are capable of incredible nobility and burdened with profound responsibility. Your life means something. You are called to something higher than your own fleeting desires.

The Choice That Defines Your Life

Will you chose fantasy over the agonizing, beautiful responsibility of real life. Will you chose "self-expression" over love and truth? The cost will be measured in your own tears and blood. You must take responsibility and carry your cross. Everything you choose in life will carry a cost. Choose what cost is the most meaningful.

You stand at a crossroads every single day:

• Will you hide behind a mask?

• Will you let your unexamined Shadow run your life?

• Or will you do the brutally hard work: confront your darkness, shoulder your responsibilities, and strive to become the person you could be – the person capable of bringing order out of chaos, love out of pain?

Stop trying to "find yourself." Stop demanding the world conform to your feelings. Start building yourself. Face your Shadow. Clean up your mess. Speak the truth. Bear your burdens.

That path – the path of responsibility and truth – is narrow. It’s steep. It’s covered in rocks. But it’s the only path that leads upward out of the wreckage. It’s the only path that leads to a life of meaning.

Now, go pick up your Cross. And start climbing to something worth it.

The world’s choking on performers. I’ll be the fool who trusts that kneeling matters more than posing. So I torch my masks. Let them burn. The God of the Cross has been waiting to breathe my cinders into wildfire, making me more a person than the world ever could.

Reader: Wow. That was not what I expected.

Author: You were expecting an argument.
You got a confession.

Reader: No, I was expecting a philosophy lecture.
You gave me an altar.

Author: Truth always asks for sacrifice. Not applause.

Reader: I don’t know whether to highlight every line or throw the book across the room.
How dare you suggest that I’m not mine to define?

Author: Because you already know it’s true.
That haunting ache inside you—the one you dress up with language like “freedom” and “self-expression”? It’s the sound of your soul whispering: “I miss home.”

Reader: But what if I don’t believe in God?

Author: Then be honest.
Don’t pretend the hunger for meaning, justice, beauty, and love is just neural noise.
Ask why you’re even asking.
Maybe unbelief is just belief that’s been wounded.

Reader: You make it sound like I’m running from someone.

Author: We all are.
The question is: will you keep sprinting toward the mirror,
or will you finally stop long enough to hear the Voice behind you and it?
But the road ends at a Cross.
And no theory survives that kind of love.

Reader: But I’ve worn my roles or masks for so long, I don’t know who I am without it.

Author: That’s the beginning, not the end.
The world taught you to perform—to construct a self you could market.
But a soul isn’t made to be marketed. It’s made to be known.

Reader: And who gets to know it? You think God does?

Author: Not just know it—name it.
The question isn’t whether you believe in God.
The question is whether you can explain your hunger without Him.
You feel the ache for justice, for love, for permanence.
Why should a meaningless accident of atoms ache for transcendence?

Reader: Still feels like a leap. Faith, surrender, identity bestowed—it all sounds beautiful and terrifying.

Author: It is. But what’s more terrifying is pretending your curated self can carry the weight of your soul.
The world is burning, and we’re still selling each other mirror fragments.

Reader: So what now?

Author: Now you pause. You breathe. Go for a walk.

You dare to believe that maybe, just maybe—
You are not an echo of culture, but a word spoken and loved by God.

Reader: I don’t know if I’m ready to believe that.

Author: You don’t have to.
But walk with me into the next chapter.
Let’s follow the trail of what happens when we refuse that Voice altogether.
Let’s sit at the table with great atheists like Nietzsche, Camus, and Dawkins—
and ask why a world without God can feel so loud with silence.

Reader: I’m ready!

Next chapter: How Nietzsche, Camus, and Dawkins taught me the unbearable burden of a godless world.

This is a chapter in my forthcoming book, Confessions of a Failed Philosopher: A Journey from Reason to Hope