Three layers of onion, one layer of lead

I have always been fascinated by the process of hypnosis: a trip into your subconscious, expressing your thoughts as they form and providing a vision of yourself which is pure, unaltered. However, what seemed at first the possibility of a spiritual journey and knowing oneself better than we already do, soon turned into a possible threat. Hypnotic sessions are usually recorded since the person undergoing the treatment is not aware of what is going on. I was surprised to find out, though, that some patients are denied access to those recordings or are strongly advised against listening to them because of their content. Apparently, our true personality isn't always as pleasant as we would think. Thus, the question arises: how well do we want to know ourselves? 

We create facades, layers, masks, call it what you will, for different situations. We see this process as a means not only for protection but adaptation as well. A whole variety of different "me's" are stored within us, ready for an immediate application if the circumstances require of it. For example, we modify our behavior when we socialize, when we are intimate or when we are alone. Of course there are many sub-categories within these which fine-tune our demeanor even more according to the specific surroundings we find ourselves in. We like to think that this adaptability helps not only ourselves but those around us, since we become "polite" or "appropriate". 

While changing our appearance and demeanor in order to "fit in" may seem harmless in most cases, and even convenient, do we truly remember who we really are? Have we lost our own blueprints amidst the frenzy of social adaptation? 

When we meet other people, especially if we begin an intimate relationship with them, we expect to peel off those layers and reach the core of the given person, hopefully to find someone we truly feel comfortable with. The process begins with "breaking the ice", our first bite at the onion, and working our way into that person's innermost thoughts. Be that as it may, we refuse to scrutinize our own selves with the same rigor. While we expect, actually demand, to know those we love completely, reprimanding them for any type of secrecy, we are contented with keeping skeletons in our own closets and burying them in layers of pseudo-personality until they are so long gone they only remain in our subconscious. Are there skeletons so disturbing that deserve a closet within the closet? Furthermore, if they come out, can we use them to our advantage or will that only prove the original purpose of our layers? Is our subconscious a vision of who we truly are or a grave never to be opened?