We all live, to some greater or lesser extent, in varying worlds of illusion. We lie to ourselves, about ourselves. It seems to me that we deal with many false “selves”. It seems to me, though, that we can reasonably infer we are dealing with our true selves, when we tell ourselves the truth, even when that truth requires laying aside as immature and weak crazy images of ourselves that made sense, long ago.
Most of us live many lives even in the one we can see, don’t we?