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either way, there's memes. and drama.

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I am an Enneagram Five, wing Four.

You want to know something interesting about Fives?
We tend to live in our heads - deep in our heads - where we can avoid the ever present drain on limited emotional reserves and where we can be consumed by sorry, bury, the crippling fear of being useless.

Welcome to An Average Five, where existential angst is a nearly daily occurrence and I do not spend anywhere near enough time touching grass.

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Melodrama, thy name is me.

Fives are fascinating creatures: consumed by a need to know, often self-isolating, skeptical of the mainstream and paralyzed by small talk.

Toss in a four wing and watch the angst amplify in an explosion of intense emotional range:

all the moodiness.

all the irritability.

all the self recrimination and hypersensitivity.

But also,

the yearning for beauty,

creativity, and

the hunger for purpose - that which is not simply ascribed but which resonates.

Fives prize rationality and fiercely guard their limited emotional reserves, carefully distancing themselves from emotional experience, and often find themselves craving an exploration of the dark and the taboo.

Fours thrive in the emotional intensity of life, unafraid to engage with the deeply intimate and vulnerable, frequently reactive and identifying with their feelings.

Both are introverted and tend to get lost in their inner experiences.

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An Average Five is in all its angst. I would say “these days” but the truth is that “these days” are most days. I want to write about Masochism and Greek Comedy and Romance Novels and then sprinkle in random posts like an analysis of screaming techniques or a book review. I want to talk about how my dad’s infidelity destroyed my sense of self, write about my abstract love for Metal and offer a critical analysis of Bleeding Out. And, true to myself, I’m caught between my own fascination with these subjects and a fear that:

a) the subject will be too complex for my tiny little brain

OR

b) I’ll overshare, make things super weird on here and send you all running for the hills. Or rolling your eyes. Or squinting in poorly veiled disgust. And then I’ll have to burn every bridge that I have built to ashes and seclude myself in a hovel where I will live out my days in a vow of silence.

Somehow, my husband has this idea that I might be a little over dramatic at times.
Not sure where that comes from.

Dear readers, they say that you should just write with confidence, not measure yourself on metrics, not seek validation from others, not put the onus for affirmation and emotional regulation on your readership.

But. . .

Will I offend the sensibilities of people I respect? Will I be too much to be worth other’s time and friendship? Does my ignorance and lack of outside experience make me a fool? If I get all dramatic will people stop taking me seriously? Will they assume I want to be sympathized with or propped up when all I want is to exist alongside? That’s all it is - really. I don’t want to drag you down into the emotional depths.

Sighs

I marvel at the Confident, the people who live in their bodies and not just their minds. People who shrug, “who cares?” and off they go and do their thing. I nod at the advice to ‘have confidence’ and ‘experience life’ and then go back to my spiraled navel gazing and rabbit trail curiosities.

What good is an existential crisis if you can just, I dunno, find something to do and feel better about yourself?

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Drama aside, this week I opened up an AMA in the AAF chat. I’m planning to do a couple freebies between today’s post and next Thursday to answer the questions, with the exception of one question which I will be answering here.

Anna Newsome

asked, “what is your earliest memory of writing for enjoyment? (not school).”

I was eight years old and living in Orlando, Florida at the time, writing a series of short stories named after a titular character, The Masked Bear. He was, quite simply, a masked bear who spent probably 80% of his time rescuing his girlfriend from kidnappers. That poor girl was constantly being dragged off by bad guys of every sort: octopi and all kinds of vile creatures. He managed to pick up a vigilante friend, a fox, who’s girlfriend was also constantly being kidnapped - by the same villains, conveniently. I illustrated everything myself and was quite pleased with my efforts.

Thanks for the question! 💛