Move Over, Cinderella

"To say "I love you" one must know first how to say the word "I"."

-Ayn Rand, "The Fountainhead"

I first heard the word "Enneagram" from my sister in law Sally.  We were talking about life and changes and she asked if I had heard of it.  I had not, so we went into a full discussion about the personality typing diagram.  I was intrigued.

Then a few days later my dear friend Erin mentioned it.  I didn't need anymore prompting.  I was supposed to explore this.

I ordered the book recommended for discovering the Enneagram and your own type, "The Road Back to You."  It came a few days before my beach trip.  I was excited to dig into the book on a beach with a beverage.

And dig I did.  With a tasty beverage.

I am a self-growth junkie.  I can't get enough of psychology and literature and studies that will teach me more about myself.  However, I shy very far away from anything that is overtly "Christian" in its context.  I find it often lacks intelligence and dismisses hundreds of years of study on the subject of self simply because the authors of such discoveries were "secular".  And "good Christians" aren't selfish and have no use for the secular.

Big sigh.  HUGE freakin' sigh.

This book, however, was different.  Though the foundation to knowing yourself is wrapped up in your Creator, the journey is a task in SELF discovery...and with or without the knowledge of God, the journey is essential.

"Without knowledge of self there is no knowledge of God." -- John Calvin

After a few failed attempts to figure out my type based on some mediocre online tests, I discovered it as I read the book.  And it is indeed a road back to myself.

Ayn Rand is one of my favorite authors.  I devoured her books in college.  I listened to lectures on her.  I read biographies on her.  She made total sense to me.  I also love anything justice related.  Law and Order is one of my favorite shows.  Movies where the bad guys get what they deserve are my favorite.  Books that are direct in their story telling are what entertain me most.  I don't have a lot of patience for detail and chasing white rabbits.  I just want to get to it, Linda.  For the love of all that is holy....talk to me.  I'm aging over here.

I'm a Type 8 Wing 7 ... A Challenger/Enthusiast.  

I'm a truth teller and a truth seeker.  I don't do well with people who don't pull their own weight.  I lack empathy at times and do NOT like to be controlled.  I am not afraid of conflict.  I think a debate is a great way to communicate.  I'm intense and driven.  I'm energetic and bossy.  I am motivated by fear and anger.

All of the Type 8 traits that were trying to surface in me over the course of my life were shut down for one reason or another.  I married and dated men who couldn't handle them.  I had friends who didn't understand them.  I took jobs that required a different set of skills.  Type 8s are largely "un-feminine".  Their personality is not gender appropriate as a woman in society.  I was the daughter of a Southern Baptist minister.  I rest my case.  The list of why I didn't behave who I was created to be is endless.

I've had a difficult few days and I was talking to a good friend about feeling that I lack "togetherness".  I told her I felt like I was a mess. My label of myself to her was because of poor decisions I had made regarding my business and my money.  Her response was surprising. She said to not be too hard on myself because we as women were raised by Disney.  We were taught to believe that a man would rescue us, so women in general were not taught to be self sufficient in many areas that men were.  We were taught that our job was simply to care for others and look good doing it.  Thanks, Walt.  As if we didn't have enough to overcome.

Dating as a Type 8, the Challenger, has been a cluster of obvious failures.  In the past, my goal in dating was simply to enjoy myself. I didn't think much about who they were as people.  If I was attracted to them and we had a good time, that was sufficient.  I never expected them to stimulate me intellectually.  I was playing the part of a girl looking for a relationship, but I didn't really want one.  My Challenger personality and my brainwashed, presumed need to star in a Disney movie were in direct opposition.  The Disney-brainwashed Rebekah usually won.

I suppose I knew that I hadn't yet finished my own self discovery so dating was like gambling.  If I happened to find someone I connected with, score.  But it was by chance that it happened and even then it didn't hold my interest.  The real love affair I was looking for was within.

I was on a date the other night and found that I was able to be forthcoming and honest with my expectations and desires.  I didn't sugar coat them.  I wasn't afraid how he would respond.   How he responded was not my concern.  I was only concerned with communicating what I wanted.  I just said it frankly without emotion ... I could feel my soul sigh with relief.   This is completely opposite from how I used to conduct myself.  I am no longer worried about being chosen by just any man.  I want to choose him AND be chosen by him.  And being the "type" I am, this is no easy task.   I'm not a universal taste for men.  I frighten them away because they can't tame me.  I recently told an ex that attempted to connect again that I was not his girl...he needed someone sweet and submissive and that ain't me, Linda.  All those tears over men now seem silly and wasteful.  I was just playing the part that Disney suggested I play...the part of the damsel in distress who needs a man to make her life complete and without him I was desolate and deficient.  

This picture of the damsel in distress may be true for some.  Some may thrive on being rescued and rescuing.  But it's equivocally untrue for me.  All these erroneous messages about femininity and the supposed need to rely on a man have done for me is kept me from realizing the fullness of my individual self.  And that self is no romantic with a mop singing about when her true love will come.  That self is happily mopping the damn floor and listening to very loud and mostly inappropriate music while planning how she will make life her bitch. (No other word is suited for that statement.)

Fully embracing who God has created me to be will be the challenge of my life.  I won't have arrived until I'm dead and cremated.  (Please don't bury me.  I want to be sprinkled in the Mississippi River.   With a very large party to follow complete with live music and alcohol. And dancing must commence.)

Move over, Cinderella.  Your time has freakin' expired.