Afraid? Of What? Of Who?

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Fear Shame and Anger. These are the three types or classes that make up the Enneagram. 8, 9, and 1 land in Anger. 2, 3, and 4 are Shame. This leaves 5, 6, and 7 being Fear.

2, 3, and 4 types operate through heart and self image. 5, 6, and 7 types operate through their head. 8, 9, and 1, types are Body and Gut oriented.

There is not a doubt in my mind that I am 8 with dashes of 9 or what they call wing 9. Also, I am a lot of 5 because I am rationale, logical, detailed and information oriented.

Now that I have gotten that out of the way, my earliest memories are cemented in my head. I can remember the first time when the outside world of peoplehood and authority intruded on me. And what was my God given natural response? It was ANGER. I am surprised that my bottom lip doesn't hang 4 inches off my face because of the anger I had raging in me. Squinty eyed, Poked out lip, folded arms or clinched fist, muttering under my breath, huff and puffing and dug in heels were my mode of operandi.

It was not Shame that triggered me. I could care less about anyone else's opinion about me. I can say I was mad when my family embarrassed me knowingly or unknowingly. I was not ashamed or shamed. There are just certain children you just can't shame, and I was one. 

With the 70's dozens game all over television and running rampant among school age children in lower to upper poor communities, you had to get with wit or get ashamed. You had to toughen up your skin. I also had 2 older brothers, so I was already in the tussle around, word lashing, bucking up to game. Every child in the house learned to cry "Uncle."

It was not Fear. I was not afraid. I did not respond to fear to the point that I would hide away or shy away. I was a bold little kid. I was fearless. Most of the time, all of the time I was not even aware of what I looked liked, I talked like or what I even smelled like. It was a Pippy Longstocking lovefest sort of childhood. Climbing on the roof and jumping off onto a mattress with umbrella in toe was accomplished before 8. Leaving home early in the morning with packed lunches in handkerchiefs dangling from a stick to explore Cameron Park was done before 9. And, running away from home was under my belt by age 6.

Yep, I went with my gut. With this body and this mind, I could do anything. With a mother who was as free spirited as any lost bird, she let us fly (as long as we were home before the street light came on). So, indeed if I felt like climbing on the garage and smoking a cigarette butt from my father's car ashtray, I did it. If I felt like going into an abandoned house, I did it. If I felt like a fist fight was necessary, I fought in it. And if I felt like taking my shirt off to play football in the street with the boys (because I was the quarterback for my team and we were skins), I did it.


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