People of the Enneagram

My hands are actually shaking as I type this. Let’s examine my heartbeat and how she moves. 

At this moment, I sit on my bed that resembles a cloud. I am accompanied by the delicate chords of a film score. The afternoon sun is flooding through my blinds. My happy place. I did theater in high school and I recall a relaxation exercise we did to practice calming our nerves before stepping into a scene. Our teacher had us lie on the stage, eyes shut, as he used words to lead us, and I found myself here. This place has been my refuge for all 22 years of my young life. It has the power to steady my hands so I may type these words and to tell my heart that everything is in fact, okay. 

Why did I have to come here to write these thoughts down? I’m an open book! This is not scary at all. 

As the finale of this series, there is a pressure to write the right things. A pressure that tells my heart, “full speed ahead!” I want this to be different than the others. I want this to satisfy the other nines. I want the people who fall in the other eight types to read this and say “yeah, that makes sense.” I want this to be mine. 

But what if it’s not?

I promise I’m not always this boring, anxious girl who sits alone in her bed on a Tuesday afternoon. My heart and I like to do a lot of things at a happy yet, leisurely pace. We just went to a concert the other day and let the melodies swirl all around us. We facetimed a long-distance friend and laughed to the point of tears. We also went to a brewery with friends and got very competitive at the table playing games. 

Okay, maybe my heart and I aren’t that exciting, but we’re pretty steady. 

Steady is good. I like consistency and reliability. I hope that I embody these. Give me a little quality time and I’ll show you how steady we can be. I’ll always listen. That is, unless you say something really wrong. I may cut you off to tell you what’s right if  I feel comfortable enough to let loose. Although, you can be sure that we’ll always return to steady. My heart doesn’t do so well if we leave her off balance. 

Here we are. Beating at a natural rhythm, once again. 

As I released these words, my heart calmed down. She always needs time. Soon, you’ll have received all of these words and I guarantee she’ll start the race again when we realize you may have formed any opinion about them.

But you’re over there 

and we’re over here 

in my happy place 

where we can think about what to say next. 

https://open.spotify.com/user/yassamaria/playlist/6cqzrh6cYCMVtKABRubWrd?si=3TVlX5-6Slyg9a2S1-TllQ here’s my film score playlist, fittingly titled, songs for my heart (I swear I made this way before I decided to write about my heart lol)

Hello! I’m Yassy! A recent graduate of Franciscan University, I’m 22 years old living amidst the transition to my new home at the University of Georgia where I will be pursuing my master’s in social work. I enjoy good friends, award-winning films, and two scoops of Jeni’s ice cream on a waffle cone. 

The 8s are straight up misunderstood.
For those of you who don’t know too much about 8s, Donald Trump is most likely an 8. So here’s a peak into my 8 soul so you can see how there’s so much more to an 8 than they want you to know. These are some things that either were said to me or are still said to me that, for better or worse, sort of explain who I am. “You do not realize how mean you are to people. I’m going to strap a video camera to your head one day, record your conversations with people, and show you how mean you are to them.” Sheesh, laying it on thick, Ma. This one hurt. It still does honestly. I speak my mind; I always have and I always will because it physically hurts me to not say things out loud. But, I never wanted to hurt people, and often after I realized that I hurt someone I would cry. And I mean weep, because I felt so bad that I had hurt them, especially because I knew how badly it hurt. I was a sensitive kid, and I felt things deeply. I grew up around an older brother and all older, male cousins. It was cool to be strong and mean, and it was lame to be weak and nice. And so I learned from a young age how to call people out in a way that was just funny enough that people laughed and just true enough that people got hurt. I still have this ability and I still speak my mind, but I am more aware of other people’s feelings and I care more about being a good person now than I did as a child. “I was afraid of you when I first met you.” Yeah, I know. I am fully aware of people’s first impression of me. Usually it is fear. To be fair, when I was growing up, I didn’t realize that people felt this way about me, but it makes sense if they did. Now, I make a sincere effort every time I meet someone new to make sure that I do not come across as an intimidating person. Much to my dismay, people still tell me they were afraid of me when they first met me. It does make me a little sad, because not only do I never want anyone to be afraid of me, I actually want the exact opposite of that. I want to protect people from being hurt, and I want people to feel protected by me. I put a lot of effort into making sure other people feel free to be themselves around me. I have spent most of my life feeling like I was too much for everyone to handle, so I never want someone to feel that way around me. “You cannot control other people, you can only control your reaction to them. Life is 20% what happens to you, and 80% how you react to it.” This is some of the greatest advice I have ever received, however I see now how this repeated phrase made its way into my subconscious and became engrained in my everyday thought process. My mom said this to me every time I would come home upset about something that someone else had said or done. But, my amazing mother, cool as a cucumber in every sense of the phrase, would just say this. She said it matter of fact as she says everything. And now, as an adult 8, I like to be in control of myself and I am afraid of being controlled by others, by things, by emotions, or by situations. I refuse to let outside circumstances control my reactions. I can only control myself, and so I will. So here’s the tea: 8s are hardcore, but sensitive. They are intimidating, but they want to protect their people. I want to punch through walls when I am mad, but I have cried just watching old people cross the street. I could probably kill someone who hurts my friends or family, but I also cried just hearing about how a teacher at my high school dropped her lunch tray in the cafeteria one day. And I love all of these things about myself. I love how angry I get at injustices, I love how protective I am of my people, and I love that I am not afraid to speak my mind. I find that I am most myself when I use my strength to help those who are vulnerable. I want to be strong, and I want to empower other people to be strong, too.

“Yeah… that proposal is going to drop over the weekend. Can you help?” 

“I worked until 11:15PM last night…” 

“My metric goals are 90% and I’m at 95%.”

Welcome to DC. I would say it breeds politicians and geniuses, but in reality, it breeds competition and workaholics. But also – the feeling that you’d like to achieve something great while inhabiting the city limits. 

_______

I walked onto Harvard’s campus about a year ago. It was a chilly, snowy, March afternoon, and everyone I spoke to had a mission. They wanted to change the world. And they knew how they were going to do it. 

How often do we get pushed out of our zones of comfort into a pool of people who have this mindset? Or, better yet, what are the people like that you surround yourself with on the daily? What mindset do they have? 

When I was at Harvard I got the itch to do something great and to follow those deep-seated dreams I kept on the back shelf of my heart. How often was I ignited like this? Rarely ever. 

_________

There are places, locations, people, that we surround ourselves in that shape us. And in some cases they can actually change the fabric of who we are. Before I moved to DC and before I got my somewhat prestigious first job out of college, I was, by definition, a mediocre student. I never really strived for greatness. I didn’t really know what I wanted. When I got my job, I finally was pushed out of a zone to actually go above and beyond. The job I got had certain standards that I needed to meet, and I had to work hard to get there. And it literally changed who I am. I became more goal-oriented. If you told me that I had to jump 3 hoops to get to point Z, I’d jump all three at once. If you told me I couldn’t do something, or something was “too hard” for me to accomplish, I’d do it for the sheer fact of being able to say I achieved it. I turned from a playful, spontaneous individual to an ambitious achiever who would stop at nothing to get what I wanted. 

A lot of these, let’s call them circumstantial changes, were good. I needed a push to be better, and living and working in DC fosters the opposite of mediocrity. But there are parts of me that wish I slowed down and was less high strung than the self I currently am. If I miss a day of waking up before 7, I shouldn’t beat myself up over it. It’s not about showing people up, it’s about showing yourself the core of who you are and being true to that. Self awareness. 

I’m aware that my surroundings have shaped who I am and changed who I am. And I think everyone should take a step back and ask themselves “have mine?” 

Like W. Clement Stone says, “We are a product of our environment.” What environment have you placed yourself in? Do you like it? And if not, what are you gonna do about it?

and she was a six

Normally, I hate tests like these.  I cringe at the phrase “what is your Myers-Briggs?” because I hate being put into a box, and also because they always seem pointless.

I was really excited, however, when I was asked to write this article about my enneagram because at least for me it explained something about myself that i had been trying to understand for a couple of years. That thing that I was trying to understand is a memory that I just couldn’t quite see why it had such a big impact. It was engraved into my heart.

So when I was in highschool, I went to homecoming with my good friend John. We had a blast at the dance, but something he said stuck with me. You see, my best friend arrived at our high school dance wasted and her boyfriend, at the time, was amused by this and he even abused the state that she was in. I immediately got her, took her to the bathroom, and tried to sober her up before anyone from the faculty found out, and before her boyfriend did anything else to disrespect her dignity.

Meanwhile, John had been hanging out with our friends, but he noticed what I was doing. Not long after my best friend started to sober up, she left again with her boyfriend. I was of course disappointed and worried. I think John noticed that I was upset that he asked me:

“Why do you care? You are not in charge of her.”

These words were engraved into my heart.

I am not telling this story to get a reaction of some sort of the classic highschool drama, but rather to show how my heart tends to work. I am a people loving- care taking -intensely loyal kind of person.  I am intensely loyal to my friends and my family through and through.

It didn’t matter that my friend went off to do something stupid every weekend. I stood there waiting to take care of her every time.

In a sense, I feel like being a six is in a way being a “brother’s keeper.” I know that the enneagram describes the six to be extremely fearful of being alone. I hated the enneagram at first because of this lowkey reality. It is true that I probably have been in friendships that should have ended much earlier than they did- or longer than most people would have had them been. However, I like to focus on how this fear has actually allowed me to be more free.

This fear has allowed me to empower others.This friendship was not healthy, but at the end of all of it, she always knew I was there for her. As for me, yeah I worry more than need be, but I’ve learned to conquer my fears through others who have showed me that I could do this. You see when a six finds a sturdy shelter that encourages them to fly we become free from all the bonds of insecurities and fears. It has been a battle within myself but my answer is found in being a loyalist to to myself as well as to others.

In hindsight, I wish I would have  given John the answer to why I care so much. It is so simple:

“It is because I love,
   I am not afraid to love, 
    And it is out of this love that I become free to be myself
      I’ve learned to be loyal to myself as I am to others.”  

Priscilla Gutierrez

5.

The discovery of my figure’s 5-shape was just another moment when I resented the way I am. The way that my head is leveled out at top. It seems that I’m always thinking about the way to understand something or to see it new. But then that awkward, seemingly misplaced rounded curvy shape that brings my feet down to earth from my head in the clouds. My figure 5 has left me wondering and searching. I love the curved shape of my environment; the every-which-way direction given by those around me and the things we engage in together. And when I make it to the bottom of this curved slope of engagement, I have no desire to continue to explore. I feel myself resigning to process what I have observed.

This seemingly unbalanced split between thinking thinking thinking and enjoying and investigating everything around me creates a shape of a person who cannot be split and boiled down to either a people person or a loner, the girl who loves to party or the girl who loves to read. There is no line of symmetry for my figure 5, no matter which way you cut me.

I will never curve all around others waiting to help them with balance as an afterthought like my friends the 2’s. You most likely won’t find me consistently standing morally upright with my head held high in the confidence of making the right decision like the 1’s. I will never go out of my way stretching myself in ways I shouldn’t be stretched to meet your standards in the way a 3 may. How about the nauseating and envied stability of an 8, somehow always eager to speak up without losing their balance, or the unpredictability of the sudden and spontaneous, direct and seemingly committed ways of the 7?

Yes, I realize these are gross oversimplifications but you get the point.

A 5 Is a 5, Is a 5.

Sitting on the number line of quick passing judgments, some notice my curviness, excited to discuss and engage with others. The assumption is that I am some sort of high-strung people-person drooling at the idea of spending all hours of the night in large group discussions.  

In reality, I’d rather sit with you in a quiet place where we can hear each other out.

I’d rather watch the world around me unfold than hastily unwrap it myself.

And I’ll probably always please my boss who seeks efficiency and consistency more than I please you.

Some see the thinker, the straight top line, the woman who loves making space for wonder to strike. And, so assume I want to lock myself in a dark room to think.

In reality, I’d rather talk to you about something you love than sit in silence.

I’d rather explore the world around me than isolate myself for eternity.

And even with this conflicting desire for exploration, I will still need a break and you probably won’t understand.

Yes, a break. Give me that dark silent room for one minute… Or make it 5.

Seriously though, have you ever noticed how the 5 is balanced by one point? Hitting that

O

N

E

point on the balance beam of health and wealth is a dream for my figure 5.

I wouldn’t be much of a 5 if I didn’t at least try the balancing act. I’d start to resemble some other number. I’d lose my shape and maybe start to look like that harried, darting two different directions at once 7.

So, I take breaks.

Not because I hate you.

Not because I abhor spending time with you.

And not because I’m some cold hearted Cruella Del Vil, squashing the fun of those around me, refusing to take in your unrepeatable beauty, seeking to spend my days alone in a dark room wondering if the universe will ever rise up to meet me.

I am a 5 dammit. I re-order my schedule. I loosen my schedule. I tighten my schedule. Did I say I know myself? I keep trying. Trying to hit that balance point.

My figure itself doesn’t resemble the boxiness you desire on this line of quick passing judgment. No matter how much I’ve squeezed and sucked in, my figure 5 won’t fit into any other. My figure 5 jeans fit just right, but only when I stop sucking in my infatuation with other people and squeezing out the tendency to want to think. I love my splitting rhythm the way you love me in my figure 5 jeans. I am a lover of books and of people, habitual guest of coffee shops and of clubs, repeat offender of being “too sensitive” and “too blunt”. My head may be in the clouds and I may find great pleasure in the swooping, grounding curve of love of those around me, but I can guarantee you that I will somehow find that balance point. That is just what 5’s do.

olivia romano

enneagram four

20 december 2018

When I was younger, I thought that my life would be made into a movie one day.  I often even pretended that I was in a movie.  The music on the radio was the background to my sad day, and I walked and talked and acted like there were other people watching as I did normal things like brush my teeth or practiced piano.  I distinctly remember listening to Bad Day by Daniel Powter through my earbuds while looking out my bedroom window when it rained.  In hindsight, I think I was just searching for ways to make the mundane more meaningful.  I saw life as a drama and I wanted mine to be the grandest, most enticing, and most irresistible of them all.  I think that pretty much sums it up, or at least gives a launch point for the rest of me.  I think this project that Merry has envisioned is so intriguing and challenging.  It was difficult for me to pull together the pieces of who I am into a cohesive narrative, so I did it more poetry-style with some snippets and phrases that I think get to the heart of it (which, after all, is all I am ever trying to get to).

BEAUTY
 It is in everything
 If I look hard enough
 Beyond stargazing and 
 Cloud watching
 It’s worth driving out of my way for
 Worth cultivating if only for myself
 It’s in half-finished work
 And travelling around the world
 In sparkling glasses
 In sparkling eyes
 It is the richness of life that I love so much and
 And even in the
 Parts of life that
 Aren’t overtly beautiful
 Sadness, tragedy, and suffering
 Are graced notes I welcome in my symphony  

FEELINGS
 They are strong
 They are fast
 I know that they belong to me
 Sometimes I forget they are not me
 Because of them I’m fiery
 And stubborn
 And overjoyed 
 Sometimes they are roadblocks
 To otherwise balmy days
 Like an echo of one bad reaction’s venom
 Sustaining and permeating
 Becoming insurmountable
 Yet the intensity of joy and hope that I can feel
 Colors life in a kaleidoscope 
 And whether good or bad
 I want to sit in them and with them
 To sort through them and feel them
 Fully so as to
 Understand
 More of who I am  

INTERIORITY
 There is a part of me
 That I know I can get to
 It is inward and hidden
 Even from me
 The background of these
 Interior swirls
 Is the drama of life
 Playing the future and past
 The unattainable and 
 Never again to be grasped
 This can be dangerous 
 To be consumed from within
 But it is good to ponder
 As one full of grace so did
 To mull over and simmer in
 The wonder unfolding within and around 
 And the perhaps the greatest miracle of all?
 Pausing to gaze inward has opened the 
 Door to let 
 Others share snippets of their
 Interior
 Life with me 

CREATIVITY
 Out of broken and mangled and
 Shards of pieces together
 Comes something new
 That wasn’t here before
 But it’s a part of me
 The interior swirls
 Move outward and dance
 Over paper and ivory keys
 Over frying pans and paint brushes
 Over twine and dark ink
 All the white space is pure gold to me
 Possibilities
 For all that wells up inside
 To spill over into 
 Something concrete
 That I can hold and I can see
 And this is key
 To processing 
 The dark deep blue waters
 That wave inside of me 

DEPTHS
 If it is not real or true or pure
 I do not want it
 The conversation or companion
 The story or belief
 Beyond and within there is more to what is given
 And I know this typically from first glance
 But not everyone I meet
 Wants to dive so deep
 So when there is a spark 
 Connection is honey-sweet
 So let me talk with you one at a time
 I will put my phone away
 I will look you in the eyes
 And I will hold your gaze even if you lose mine
 There is always more to what catches one glance
 Women on trains
 Men on bikes
 Could it be that even
 The strangers on the corner
 Have a just as interesting drama
 Occurring in their own lives 

UNIQUENESS
 Nose pressed against
 Cold front windows
 It is feeling outside
 Or other than
 But I am not sure
 If I was locked out
 Or if the door was always open
 But I never tried pushing it
 Maybe there is some secret
 That everyone else is in on
 Still I wouldn’t surrender
 Any part of me
 To be adopted into the blur
 I should hope to remain 
 A mystery
 While still being understood
 These unrepeatable
 Freckles and
 Sapphires and 
 Nose scrunch
 Are gates to
 Sprinkled joy and
 Rooted beliefs and
 Stubbornness that
 Unfold like a flower with time
 So I am still learning
 That though everyone is unrepeatable
 Their uniqueness does not 
 Diminish mine 

Realizations
 
People make me feel 
Alone and weed makes me listen to music
Theater and cry 
 
Nostalgia is dark water 
A friend visiting in a week is a sigh 
New friends are a sign
 
We carry our keys in case of strange men
You can’t always be the “nice person” in the scenario 
 
You are wrong often
You feel old
You are younger
Than you think you are and
Short ukulele videos are important and deserve more 
Credit scores are not social currency but it is some sort of currency
That’s yet to be determined
Like so much right now
 
Your new life scares you
Your old life has a Clarendon filter
A roommate is a blessing and a curse
It’s hard to keep a plant alive 

…

I Had a Poem Inside Me Last Night

I had a poem inside me last night, squealing and kicking, waxing and waning.

Stephen was brushing his teeth. I became so cognizant of time. How long do people even brush their teeth? A recommended two minutes? How long had he already been brushing?

The ocean swelled in my ears, my hair stuck up underwater in the pool just like my sister and I liked. All at once, I was 8-year-old me, that girl who didn’t know what gay was, who didn’t care about wearing sunscreen, who didn’t care about “being fat.” I was barefoot on a stage somewhere and birds flew above but below me. There were feathers and seashells and I was that kid on my rollerblades in the street, with an ice cream code dribbling down my arm. That time I stepped on glass in the background and limped inside, wondering why there was glass on the ground. Wondering how my parents have given me so much that it seems like that they have nothing left for each other.

The contents of today sat on my tongue, that sugar cube that is a summer afternoon. Our three mile walk through all of DC. The homes, rich with unkempt colors, the heat simmering down for the day, a series of clouds. We walked to Meridian Hill Park. Ben and Sophie came and the four of us were suddenly no one special- just four extremely white individuals sitting on an old bed sheet talking about juice and farmer’s markets and prices per square foot. A couple of nothings and nobodies for those few hours, a comment I make without self-loathing or malice. We simply were not significant then, and are not significant now. What with the Syrian crisis and ISIS and everything else the world has.

But as I held onto Stephen, as the brushing continued, time had never felt more fleeting. This ritual, one moment that becomes a lifetime of moments.

Already nostalgic for a day that felt like the first 25 years of my life.

Like sand through my fingers falling into a well of unfinished poems, unread books, people’s stories untouched.