Even if I were to adopt a realist stance with respect to personality psychology, I would still be left with the question of why I have the personality I do, rather than some other personality. The psychologist may deflect this concern with a general reference to genetics and upbringing. I find this explanation unsatisfying because I cannot, as a matter of subjective experience, sense these reasons through inspection: my genes and how they interact with my environment are beyond my ability to see, and reflection upon my upbringing leaves me once again at an epistemological impasse. I can remember neither my infancy nor my early childhood, both of which are crucial periods for the development of my personality. As for the memories of my later childhood, here I have to trust both the the fidelity of my recollection of the period (shaky, at best) and also my felt perception of which of several possible explanations correctly accounts for the relationship betweeen what happened to me and who I am. In the latter context, I may be influenced by how familiar I am with psychological reasoning (how widely I have read in the field, whether or not I have been subjected to psychoanalysis, etc.), and a host of other contingent factors. I am no better off correctly explaning why my personality is the way it is than I am deciding why I am feeling anxious today. The possibilities are rationalizations thrown up by the conscious mind; they are stories I tell myself about who I am. (A further complication here is that the explanations I can conceive of are very likely to be flattering to me; I may be completely incapable of conceiving, let alone believing, possibly correct explanations that would put me in a negative light, so strong is the desire to maintain a positive self-image and avoid cognitive dissonance.) There is no way to decide between two possible explanations that both accord with the remembered facts; the feeling of certainty, as I have already discussed, is no guide: it itself has no epistemological grounding, arising as it does from the inscrutable unconscious.
Perhaps I am too attached to the idea that I should be able to explain who I am, why I have the personality I do, why these thoughts arise rather than those, and why I feel the way I do from one moment to the next. This is the scientist in me: the man who is driven by the need to discover theories. Perhaps I should forgo this grandiose plan and come to peace with the possibility that a sound, explanatory framework of self-knowledge is impossible and that the best I can hope for is a descriptive self-knowledge. I cannot ever know why I am the way I am. I must console myself with knowing simply how I am. But even in this more limited project of self-knowledge, I face tremendous difficulties. For how am I to know that X is the case and not-X is not the case? What is it that gives me the assurance that I am honest, rather than dishonest, for example? I could rely on Aristotle's teaching that "we are what we repeatedly do." I could examine my behaviour over the course of a long period of time and adjudicate whether I lie more frequently than I tell the truth, or assess whether the people in my life consider me to be trustworthy. But here I am severely handicapped by confirmation bias. I believe that I am honest and trustworthy and therefore I selectively forget the occasions when I lied, or minimize the lies I told, or excuse them in some self-satisfying way. If one of my friends, or family members, catches me in a lie, I explain it away as a misunderstanding, or a mistake, preferably because of some reason outside of myself. In this way, I preserve my positive self-image. And if ever I am confronted with incontrovertible evidence of my mendacity that cannot be explained away, I will comfort myself by saying that, deep down, I am "really" an honest person, that the lie I told doesn't truly reflect who I am at heart, that I would prefer not to have lied, and that it should not be counted against me. In short, I drink the Kool Aid.
There may be no self. An explanatory theory of the self is impossible. A description of the self is very difficult, if not impossible. There is no scientific understanding of consciousness, though consciousness is all that we have and all that we can be certain of. There is no knowing why, either how come, or what for. And yet, here we are. This is what we have to deal with.