Hah! Day 9 of Blog-tember. We’re looking good, ladies, looking good.
This is a timely challenge for me, as we’re in the midst of weekly psychology appointments to help us all with the fall-out of abuse/for the custody decision.
Let’s talk personality types. Introverted? Extroverted? Unsure-troverted?
OK. Here goes.
First meeting. The psychologist told me to ‘Forget my ego’. I was all like, “What? WTF? Forget my ego? I don’t even know what my ego is. And, anyway, I think it’s someone else whose ego’s got the problem, got a bit too big and aggressive for it’s boots, not mine, no sirree..”
Therein lay the crux of the problem.
I didn’t know – but now do – thanks to a weekend cramming of psychology tests and readings on ‘ego’ and ‘self’ and all sorts of stuff I’d had no clue about before – that, yes, forgetting about my ego actually made a big difference.
Not because my ego had caused the problem but because it was causing a problem with me being able to bounce back from all the bashing (psychological and, yes, unfortunately, physical – what an unfortunate choice of words, but I’ve decided to be transparent in this – my – little corner of cyberspace. “My husband used to abuse me. Constantly” – there, I’ve said it**).
It – the bloody rogue ego – wasn’t letting me be happy, because it wasn’t letting me forget. My ego, selfish little bastard it is, was robbing me of my right to be happy. So, moral of the tale? Listen to the wisdom of this psychologist and beat your bloody ego with a great big stick as often as you can (apparently self flagellation is OK! Productive, even!). Once that’s done, you’ll be able to understand and overcome.
Seems to have worked.
My ego is well and truly in the dog house.
Now my true self can reveal itself in all its pure, untarnished, glory.
So, you may ask, what is my true self?
Apparently I’m INFJ. The rarest personality type. I read the description and wept. Quite literally wept. If I’d been asked to write a description of myself, I’d have written 85% of what I’ve read.
I then tested myself for introvertion/extrovertion and I’m an introvert. Reading those descriptions made a whole pile of jigsaw pieces self assemble before my very eyes.
I then tested myself for ‘highly sensitive-ness’ and, bam, I test as significantly highly sensitive.
I read and read and read and I understood and understood and understood myself so much better. It was like a long, hot, shower for my soul and she came out refreshed and cleansed like never before. Bright and shiny and ready for life.
Then I gave my ego a great big fucking punch on the nose and told it, in no uncertain terms, to go away and not ever come back: for not letting me have this knowledge before, for having lived 40 years of my life always feeling that little bit strange, that little bit different, that little bit on the margins (being, mostly, content with being on the margins whilst longing for a crowd of like-minders where I could be the extrovert that part of me is). For not letting me be me.
They say that information is power and, man, did I feel powerful the weekend I delved, ego-less, in to my true realms. I now have explanations for why I need space, why I behave like I do, why I cry at the slightest thing immediately after having thought I’d die of pure happiness.
It’s me, it’s who I am: Helen, INFJ, introvert, highly sensitive.
**For anyone reading who asks, even in their mind, “Why didn’t you just leave?” (the most common question asked of battered women, and the one that causes us most stigma), I’m hearing the little voice deep inside me telling me that I need to write about that, so I will be able to answer you, once the right words come. And come they will. I feel it.
P.S. The day after I’d scheduled this post, I ran across this great article, about following your heart (not your ego) from mindbodygreen. Hopefully it might help someone somewhere!