Lately, Iíve been sleeping pretty well, but it was so hot in my bedroom last night, I had no chance. Itís strange, but I usually donít have problems with being hot. Even today, Iím wrapped in a blanket and I have my space heater going in my cube.

A couple of weeks ago, our relationship counselor had us look into our Myers-Briggs typology. I already knew my personality type and I had already spent some time researching it (INFP). I was less familiar with Adamís, but I was able to read up on it easily enough. Weíre both very strong in our personality types.

Even though I knew my own type and I had previously read about it, Iíd forgotten a lot about it. At first, it was so nice to see it written out, especially seeing my personality described as a type and not as pathology. The other thing that it reminded me is how much I deny my personality type.

I grew up in an environment that did not nurture who I was, and I learned to believe that who I was wasnít worth nurturing. Also, survival was always my first priority. I wasnít given the luxury of letting other things be higher priorities. That transferred into adulthood. By the time I was 25, I owned a nice house in an expensive suburb and had two brand new cars in my garage. That didnít spring from some desire to succeed, that sprang from a desire to protect myself. I needed tangible things to remind me that I could find stability in an unpredictable world.

In my effort to obliterate my personality, in favor of something more desirable, and create stability for myself, I spent most of my time not being me. Iím not saying that I was miserable. I could put on business clothes, heels, make-up and talk on my cell-phone and pretend that I was an important business person of some sort. I do enjoy pretending that Iím so much more sophisticated than I am.

I think this past year, the play part of it started fading for me. The game got stale, and all the un-fun stuff piled up. Being important for real is no fun at all.

After my initial elation being reminded that Iím a real type and not a crazy person, I started feeling sad to realize how much I deny myself. Of course, that explains why Iíve been so unhappy and stressed out, lately. Right now, Iím at the stage where I can recognize that things arenít going how I want them to go, but I donít know how to fix them, either.

Iím beginning to think I spent a couple of lives as a cat. Maybe thatís where all the warrior stuff comes from. When people say that Iím cat-like, they usually donít mean that Iím especially agile or slick. They usually mean that I yawn a lot, and I know how to look really comfortable.

The other day, the psychologist made some observation about me, and I almost blurted out, ďWell, thatís because I was probably a cat in a previous life.Ē I caught myself in time. I even surprised myself when that was the first thing that came to mind.

I do go a little anti-reality sometimes, though. This past year and a half or so, Iíve really been working over-time to stifle myself, so itís no wonder I went a little nuts. I guess considering how nuts I could have gotten, it hasnít been so bad. My version of crazy has always been the Walt Disney version. Usually, at my worst, my nastiest insult to fling at someone is to call them ďmean.Ē

Not that I donít unintentionally insult people sometimes, too, but thatís something else.

The other thing that my typology reminded me is how I am naturally very soft. I remind myself of one of those big, puffy funguses that grow in lawns. The ones where you just give them a little jab and they break apart into dust. A fungus is appropriate because Iím not soft in a charmingly delicate way, more like in a spores flying everywhere, way. And, I grow back, obviously.

Because the world is such a harsh place, Iíve had no choice but to create such gigantic walls that I canít even see out, let alone people seeing in. I canít weather things all naked, like some people can.

Last weekend, I went on a long hike with my friend, Edi. We talked a lot. That was the first time in a long time where I opened up to someone face-to-face, by choice, and one of the rare times where I was open with someone and didnít feel slapped down for daring to be myself.

I donít think itís just me. Most people are struggling so much, themselves, that theyíll slap down everyone they can because theyíre so scared of everyone else. That, or theyíll keep their walls so high, thereís no chance of real connection.

Other than that, Adamís school year is coming to an end, and the day after finals, heís turning 30! So, I guess Iíll be dating an adult now?

The week after that, weíre going to our first opera, La Traviata. I canít wait.

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Friday, Apr. 09, 2010 at 8:06 AM