Relationships as Mirrors: How Others Reveal Our True Selves

One thing I keep thinking about is how we are when we're in relationships with people, and how these connections don't just allow us to know others, but also—perhaps more importantly—to know ourselves.

The Murky Waters of Our Being

I often imagine our inner self as a large tank filled with water. When this tank remains still, the water appears clear and calm. But over time, with dust, rain, and life experiences, particles accumulate in this water. These particles—our memories, traumas, preferences, aversions—don't float on the surface forever. They eventually sink and settle at the bottom, forming a residue that's invisible but very much present.

This metaphor resonates with what Carl Jung called "the shadow"—that part of our unconscious containing everything we've repressed, ignored, or denied in ourselves. As Jung explained, "Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate." Our task isn't to ignore these sediments but to learn to recognize them.

The Stick That Stirs the Water

When we're alone, the water remains calm. The sediments stay at the bottom, invisible. We have the illusion of knowing ourselves perfectly.

But when someone enters our life—a romantic partner, a close friend, a colleague—it's as if this person dips a long stick into our reservoir and stirs the water. Suddenly, residues rise to the surface. We react in unexpected ways. We feel emotions that seem disproportionate. We discover aspects of ourselves we had never seen before.

The philosopher Martin Buber expressed a similar idea when he wrote: "All real living is meeting." It's in relationship to others that we truly reveal ourselves, even to ourselves.

My Food Story: A Revealing Example

To illustrate this idea, I'll share a personal experience related to food. I grew up in a society where food variety was limited. We often ate the same dishes, and it was rare to taste flavors from other cultures.

I remember very clearly that, as a child, certain foods made me literally uncomfortable, to the point of giving me dizziness and a physical feeling of discomfort. These experiences were etched in my memory, but I hadn't realized how much they had shaped my behavior.

Living alone, I only ate what I knew—it was a comfort zone I never questioned. I didn't ask myself why I was limiting my culinary experiences this way. The water in my reservoir remained undisturbed.

Then, when meeting new people, I was led to try new foods. And there they were—those old discomforts rising to the surface! These new encounters had stirred the stick in my water, bringing up memories and sensations buried for a long time.

Neurologist and author Bessel van der Kolk explains this phenomenon in his book "The Body Keeps the Score": our past experiences, particularly those associated with discomfort or stress, are inscribed in our bodies and can be reactivated by similar situations, even years later.

The Importance of Not Judging or Being Judged

When these residues surface in a relationship, it's easy to blame the other person for our discomfort. It's equally easy for them to judge us for our reactions, which they may perceive as excessive or irrational.

If we're not aware that what's happening is actually our own sediments rising—and not directly the fault of the other person—we risk accepting their judgment. We internalize the idea that there's something "defective" about us, which can worsen the situation and add an additional layer of pain.

Psychologist John Gottman, famous for his research on relationships, discovered that what he calls the "four horsemen of the relationship apocalypse"—criticism, contempt, defensiveness, and stonewalling—often begin with misplaced judgments about each other's reactions.

The Essential Question

When facing discomfort in a relationship, a crucial question deserves to be asked: is what's hurting me right now really 100% caused by the other person? Or has this person simply touched something that was already present in me, waiting to be discovered?

And if the other person judges you for your reactions, remember they don't know what's happening inside you. They aren't aware of the memories and emotions they've inadvertently brought to the surface.

This perspective echoes the Buddhist philosophy of non-attachment and compassion, where one learns to observe reactions without judgment and to understand that others act according to their own conditioning.

The Beauty of Relational Learning

We are social beings by nature. As Aristotle wrote more than two millennia ago, "Man is by nature a social animal." We instinctively seek connection with others.

And this is a blessing in disguise! Because each relationship becomes an opportunity for deep learning—not only about the other person but especially about ourselves. In every interaction, in every friction, in every moment of shared joy, we discover a new layer of our being.

The true richness of a relationship may not lie in its duration or outcome, but in what it reveals to us about ourselves. People may come and go in our lives, but the discoveries about ourselves remain and transform us.

An Invitation to Awareness

I invite you to consider all your relationships—romantic, friendly, professional, familial—as opportunities for self-discovery. Every time you feel a strong emotion in someone's presence, ask yourself: what does this reaction reveal about me?

Instead of getting lost in the sadness of a relationship ending, take time to grieve, then cherish the discoveries it offered you. Note these learnings. Create a journal of your personal discoveries.

What have you learned about your likes, dislikes, emotional triggers? What makes you happy? What makes you uncomfortable? This knowledge is an invaluable treasure that no one can take from you.

Psychologist Brené Brown beautifully summarizes this idea: "Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change." It's by opening ourselves to others, despite the risk of discomfort, that we grow the most.

Conclusion: An Ode to Relationships as Inner Journeys

Each relationship, whether it lasts an hour or a lifetime, is an opportunity to dive deeper into self-knowledge. Every person who enters our life potentially dips that stick into our water and helps us see what was hidden.

So instead of fearing the ripples and sediments rising to the surface, perhaps we can welcome this process with curiosity and gratitude. For this is how murky water gradually becomes clearer, allowing us to see more deeply into ourselves and, paradoxically, to connect more authentically with others.

The next time you feel your water stirring in someone's presence, take a deep breath and tell yourself: "Here's a chance to learn something new about myself." And perhaps you'll discover that relationships, with all their joys and challenges, are ultimately our greatest teachers.