Since I’ve become deeply interested in astrology, I haven’t had use for personality tests. Between my birth and progressed charts, as well as reading I’ve done on goddess archetypes, I’m as classified and labeled as I’d like to be. At the request of my employer, however, I recently took the Birkman personality test, which is phasing out the Meyers-Briggs as employers’ favorite nifty tool for understanding their employees.
I read up on the test and expected to score as a Yellow. Yellows “like job responsibilities that include organizing and systematizing, and professions that are detail-oriented, predictable, and objective.” Given my proclivity for administrative and support roles, I figured Yellow was a slam dunk.
Below is a free write from a particularly judgey morning last month…
I just had one of the worst morning yoga sessions I’ve had in awhile. I am sweaty and frustrated. My Inner Critic was loud and accounted for, reminding me through every pose how awfully out of shape I am and that at my age, I should be ashamed. I’m thirty-one years old. Keeping my knees bent for thirty seconds should not feel like Chinese torture and yet, there I was, my entire body screaming “Why are you doing this to me? Can we please just stop?!” From what I’ve read about yoga, its purpose is mind-body union. The only things my mind and body could unite on this morning were “Ouch!” and “Gotdammit!”
An 109 year-old Scottish woman said one of the keys to her long life was staying away from men completely (also listed: regular exercise and a daily bowl of porridge). I’ve had similar conversations with my mother and when I asked about her “needs,” she replied “I’ve had more than enough of THAT. I just want somebody to pay these bills. Other than that, I don’t want to be bothered.”
I don’t even want to know how much sex one has to have before they’ve decided “That’s enough.” Good news is, I’ll have my mama around for at least another 35-40 years. Continue reading →