I scanned a package and threw it directly at my managers face and yelled "here's another mis-spa and by the way maybe you should tell the unload to send the damn totes when you shut off sure-post especially when you're standing right there!" He flinched and avoided my eyes and picked up the box and walked away. I had completely had it. I turned to a terrified loader and bellowed "What's that you were saying about me not being a bitch? Well now you've seen it." I stalked out of the building and drove home possessed with rage at my inept and completely spineless manager who had had the nerve to tell me to "focus on my work" and and as it faded I was as usual overwhelmed with self hate. I loathed myself. Almost home, I started crying because I hate it when my anger wins. It wasn't the first time my manager and I had warred over who should be in charge and I can guarantee it won't be the last. I'm not really underling material as I'm learning to realize. If my co-workers had any idea of the things I do for their wellbeing they would love me, eh I think they love me anyway. But they don't have a clue of the energy I put into that silly place and it's at a cost. I didn't really understand why I do it or why I can't stop until I read advice for someone who has to manage an 8. It is funny and so true. "If an 8 complains a lot, they are probably speaking up for many people who are afraid to complain." "If an 8 sees injustice they will thwart it." As an 8, I have ordered 24x36 maps of cities with new streets so the drivers know where houses are because I think it's ridiculous not to. As an 8, I have taken numerous safety concerns to management with such vociferous complaints that management capitulated. Things that supervisors had given up on and said to me "it's above my pay grade"... I got em done and quick. As an 8, I have forced change in the way they park the trucks for the warmth of the pre-loaders. I've also driven changes in the way mislabeled packages are handled and seen my point proven over and over. I'm never afraid to come up with an idea and being told no or being ignored just fuels my fire until I get it done. I've completely rearranged every job they've given me for maximum efficiency and it works. I've stood toe to toe with my manager telling him to get a backbone and stand up for his people and he's a better man for it. He hates me but it pushes him to be a better manager. Could I learn better tact? Yes, clearly. Do I get off on it every time I go to work and see people doing what I thought of? YESSSSSSSS! It's the most satisfying feeling in the world! Knowing that the right people have had a button installed so they can safely turn off the belt because I escalated and escalated until it was done and walking past a freshly welded piece of sheet metal that could have sliced an arm open because I met with the safety committee chairman gives me total satisfaction.
Years ago when I exploded on people I always told myself I was going to beat this but I never did. For a few years I was able to somewhat smother it by literally losing my identity but that proved to be quite detrimental to my entire personality.
When I lost my identity I remember saying to people "I'm stuck, I feel no more motivation to do anything other than lay in a bed of warm laundry eating bread." I would also whine. "I don't know what to be. I don't want to go to school. It will be too much work. I'm too tired. I have too many kids. I'm too overwhelmed. I just can't."
It was a far cry from the little firebrand of a few years earlier who had bought and sold furniture like a whiz. It was nowhere close to the woman who after being royally screwed over by a hospital, home birthed three babies and cloth diapered and sold those cloth diapers as a supplemental income. It didn't hold a candle to the woman who supported her husband through cancer, fighting like a champ
for the best medical care and insurance coverage. Somehow in smothering my anger, I had smothered my soul and was now a lost and very sad and very non-confrontational weenie... all because I hated my feisty fatal flaw and all of the damage it had done to my relationships. In my new identity every conflict was now absorbed by me. I would pray through it, focus on loving people, remembering the grace I needed and wanted to give. I tried to go deeper than my anger, asking myself what was the underlying emotion that caused it. I was single-mindedly focused on smothering the anger and not acting on it at all. But it bled into my everything. I lost all self confidence. I'd ask my mentor Sarah if she thought I should confront someone at work and list off their grievances because I didn't trust my instincts and I was sure if I opened the door to conflict, anger would reign. I was afraid to tell people they hurt me because conflict was a guaranteed escalation to anger. It ultimately failed because it wasn't really me and it stole my mojo. I know it's probably heresy to say it, but that's not the way God made me.
A little over a year ago I read a book about the enneagram called "The Road Back to You" by Ian Cron. It began with a story about his daughter, an 8 that sounded eerily like me at her age. I studiously ignored this fact because I hated the idea of being an 8. Instead I examined the 4, mostly because I had no career and it seemed 4's had a terrible time holding down careers and furthermore everyone told me I was a 4 so I reluctantly took the title. I certainly fit the bill. I was always complaining and clearly loved home decor and couldn't keep a job. I must be a 4. I wasn't thrilled with the number but hey there were worse numbers like 8's. When someone asked me what an 8 was my brow lowered and I said "I don't get along with 8's." I put up with the 4 title for a few months but then read another enneagram book "The Path Between US" which was cowritten by Ian Cron and Suzanne Stabile still zeroing in on the 4. As I read about this capricious, compassionate, moody 4, I felt blank. My friends would try to say I must be be the best person in the world at supporting grievers. I didn't want to disagree but deep down I rarely went to dark places in my mind and often refused to watch sad movies. I had learned and developed an appreciation for sadness and grief through my dad's death a few years ago but prior to that, I had precious few characteristics of a 4. Suddenly it just didn't jive. I announced I hated the enneagram and thought it was idiotic. My friends laughed but I was seriously angry at the enneagram. Whenever I tried to verbalize it, somehow it would come back that I was just a 4 and didn't want to fit into the enneagram because it would hurt my uniqueness. So I tried to wrestle with that. I just couldn't. The more I heard about being a 4, the less I related at my gut level. I googled it relentlessly and studied the enneagram and took quizzes and
always avoided the 8 until one day the 8 came looking for me. I let a little squeak out that I
wondered if I was an 8 sometime mid summer. Everyone told me no, I wasn't an 8, maybe during my childhood I had "pretended to be an 8" to get through a crisis. I wrestled with it mostly because I didn't fit the aggressive, successful power player description... anymore. As I reflected on my years of online debating of abortion and religion for sport and a deep desire to protect women and babies, I saw an 8, not a 4. As I considered my propensity for jumping into other peoples fights when the wrong person was losing, I again saw an 8, not a 4. When I pondered my 20 year struggle to show Jody proper respect, trust and esteem, I saw an 8, not a 4. When I thought about all of the relationships I had wrecked with my absolute and uncompromising harmful words, I again just saw an 8, not a 4. But what about my rebellious streak I kept thinking. More than anything I hate being told what to do. I was literally googling "rebellious enneagram number." I got a 7 or 8, not a 4. I looked at the 7 briefly but I enjoy seriousness just as much as fun so it didn't grab me.
One day I read a post on instagram at “Your Enneagram Coach” by Beth McCord that convinced me I was an 8. And I just felt relieved. The number I hated the most was like a blessed relief. I had to come to terms with the real me and learn how to grow it. It was kind of like I woke up from a coma. Maybe I had been trying to operate from a 9 wing? I don't know.
"Control me." I felt a visceral reaction to the words. Then "the burden" yes, why did it always seem like I was going to be the only one to protect everyone? Somehow this little blip was screaming my pain as a person. Always advocating. So, so exhausting and often fruitless.
This came right in the middle of a huge conflict with my manager at UPS. I did have a strong distrust of him and I wanted to make sure he couldn't control me. I had been obsessing over it, as a matter of fact and I had purposefully not told him how much physical pain I was in because I had to look strong. I prayed about it and God told me "let go, I've got you." So I did, after doing plenty of damage with my razor tongue and sure enough God came in and scooped me up and carried me through it all.
One day I was cross examining my center manager on a policy that affected union workers. He looked a little alarmed like maybe I was going to cause problems so he spent a lengthy amount of time explaining how he was approaching the policy. I walked away and worked for an hour processing all of the angles and decided he was being above board and none of my coworkers were getting the shaft. Finally, I looked for him and said "sorry for that, I'm just a very suspicious person but I know I can trust you." He laughed incredulously and reminded me of all of the times he had earned my trust. I nodded a little shamefully and said "It's just my personality, I'm very protective and always questioning people's intentions. Call it vigilance I guess." I think that day I realized just how cynical of an 8 I really am.
I read something recently "emotional intelligence is the ability to regulate your own emotions and the emotions of others around you." It kind of reminded me of a question my dad used to ask me when I was angry "But what is your goal? Use your energy on what will yield your desired result." Anger gives me energy which I often lack. I think managing the power of anger with a bit of strategy angled for an outcome could really put anger to good use. So that's my new plan.
Realizing I was an 8 gave me the courage to go to school. It made me believe that I'm strong and resilient and brave just like I always used to be before I zeroed in on my weakness and started hating myself. In that way, the enneagram has set me free. Sure, I have a scary anger management problem I clearly need to learn to manage. Like my mentor Sarah says, "everyone has their stuff."
