The ‘real me’ and the ‘actual me’.

We sometimes explain a desire to break with the routines of life, to do new things or even to go on holiday as a desire ‘to find ourself’ or ‘find the real me’. Since, by definition, we have yet to find the real me, we are usually rather vague about what it looks like, which means in turnthat we can never be sure if we have found it or not. But we talk as if the real me is our authentic identity, more creative and sensitive than the way in which we are usually experienced by others and by ourselves. For some of us, the real me may be a more decisive and courageous version of ourselves. But the common element is that the we use the term ‘the real me’ to designate the type of person we wish to be rather than our actual identity. Few if any of us seek a real me that is a stupider, more insensitive, or more boring version of ourselves.

It is not clear whether finding the real me is ever successful. When we are on holiday, we are often required in a short space of time to drastically change our way of life, encounter new foods, new places, and new ways of relaxation. But we soon re-assert routines - after a few days of disorganisation, we end up going to the same harbour café to drink a glass of San Miguel at the same time each day, have a meal at the same time (although perhaps at a different time compared with home), and look at the same beautiful view each evening. There is a sense that the holiday is settling down as we experience the comfort of the familiar.

Our sense of the real me might therefore shape our behaviour and aspirations, but is ultimately kept close to our actual me by our need for routine. The reactions of others are also an important check on fantasy. Claiming we are a great singer when we are not will usually invite ridicule. We can only persist with this illusion if we categorise others as exceptionally misguided or hostile. Like Don Quixote, we thereby invite humiliation, which we can see when people are recruited for programmes like The X Factor or The Apprentice.

As we get older, however, a subtle change occurs in the relationship between our sense of the real me and the person we actually are. We look in the mirror and see a younger version of ourselves. Less biassed sources of information, such as photographs, come as a shock and are rejected. We still believe we are capable, as we once were, of striding over hills and running down streets, when now we can only stumble. When people ask us if we need help, we refuse because we believe our ‘real me’ is capable and independent. We hold dearly to our discrepant identity so that, like the rejected contestants in The X Factor, we become angry when faced by the evidence of our incompetence. So many old people reject the help they need, and decline into isolation as a means of keeping alive their real me.