Enneagram Alumni
At the very bottom of today’s piece is an audio recording of Enneagram Alumni for the paid subscribers!
Information for context:
The Enneagram is a personality typing system in which each person has only one type. There are nine basic types (Enneatypes) with ‘wings’ and ‘centres’ and details on what happens when you experience both growth and stress respectively. There are also detailed levels of health/development within each Enneatype.
Far more interesting than a bunch of alphabet letters mushed together, each Enneatype has a unique name - The Reformer, The Achiever, The Peacemaker etc. Pretty cool.
So my story begins…
I was convinced I had graduated my Enneagram number.
I'm an Enneagram One - The Reformer. We tend to spend much of our precious time and energy on perfection and correctness and fixing.
I grew up circling the typos in the school newsletter with red pen and sending it back to the Principal.
I was a loud advocate in our Primary School petition to have a mirror installed in the girls' bathrooms, so I could ensure I never had a hair out of place.
I practised my handwriting every day of the school holidays.
If I wrote a heading that was off-centre, I added a well placed star for balance.
If I caught my siblings misbehaving, I hauled their asses off to Sunday school.
EVERYTHING IN ITS PLACE.
ALL THINGS STRAIGHT AND ORDERLY.
ALL WRONGS WILL BE RIGHTED.
As an adult though, I've softened my grip on the mirage.
My hair is usually cave-woman chic.
My gift wrapping is so fast and loose, I often pretend the children did it.
I haven't (outwardly) corrected someone else's typo in years.
Neither my bookshelf nor my wardrobe are colour coded.
I’m no longer tied to fixing and perfecting all things.
I've won, I thought.
I've passed the Enneagram.
I’m levitating somewhere above the Enneagram now.
I've become Enneagram alumni.
Professor Le Cerf, they'll call me.
Life is good. I’ve already put elbow patches on my favourite suit jacket!
It wasn't until I was driving home late last night (my most vulnerable hour) when I was halted by Sleeping At Last's song 'One’ (link will take you to YouTube) - a melodic interpretation of life as an Enneagram one - that something clicked…
hold on for a minute,
‘cause i believe that we can fix this over time,
that every imperfection is a lie.
or at least an interruption...
now hold on, let me finish.
no, i’m not saying perfect exists in this life,
but we’ll only know for certain if we try.
i want to sing a song worth singing,
i’ll write an anthem worth repeating.
i want to feel the transformation,
the melody of reformation.
but the list goes on forever,
of all the ways i could be better, in my mind.
as if i could earn God’s favor given time,
or at least “congratulations”...
now, i have learned my lesson;
the price of this so-called perfection is everything.
i’ve spent my whole life searching desperately
to find out that grace requires nothing of me.
i want to sing a song worth singing,
i’ll write an anthem worth repeating.
i want to feel the transformation,
the melody of reformation.
i’ll hold it all more loosely,
and yet somehow much more dearly,
‘cause i’ve spent my whole life searching desperately
to find out that grace requires nothing.
grace requires nothing of me.
And I realised the perfectionism shape-shifts, dammit.
I haven’t graduated anything.
My patterns just got more advanced.
I outsmarted myself and then tricked myself into thinking I’d beaten myself based on my assessment that I’d perfected my perfectionism into non-existence. I’ve just inceptioned myself into complacency, therefore allowing my perfectionism to walk the halls uninterrupted in it’s new disguise.
My high expectations and standards for myself shape-shifted from visible things to internal things:
I berated myself over my perceived parenting mistakes.
Convinced myself that slow subscriber growth meant I was a bad writer.
Avoided social situations in case I said the wrong thing and lost a friend, thus confirming my defectiveness.
I’m still petrified that I’m bad. A failure. Faulty.
They’ll probably take away my degree now that this is in writing.
Throw my lunch out of the staff room fridge.
Scratch my face from all alumni photos.
I’ve just literally walked into my own trap.
Ugh, how did I get so smart and so stupid at the same time?
So I’m back to square one over here.
Starting a new cycle of understanding myself, in entirely new contexts.
Listening lovingly to every moment my heart skips, stops or flutters.
Getting to know my fears, patterns and North Stars.
Softening.
Slowing.
Attempting to trade reprimand for curiosity and compassion.
Accepting my own fluctuations and all movement as sacred.
Every small step, big step, back step and tumble.
Taking my eyes off the podium and sometimes closing them all together to find my centre.
It’s not so bad down here I guess.
There’s so much to be known and felt. So many opportunities to be true.
I think I’d call that a song worth singing.
x
Lysette
P.S. Audio recording of Enneagram Alumni is beyond the paywall.