It has been five years now. Five years of learning about the Enneagram, that profoundly complex web of typology that somehow manages not only to describe what we are like, but how we act in times of stress and growth.

Except that I’ve now ‘mistyped’ myself six times now…

A fact that begs the question: Exactly how accurate is this system?

I started off as a Type One – the perfectionist, control-freak side of me coming to the fore. Then I realised that while I sure had some of those tendencies, I also tended to rush through tasks without measuring and take joy in throwing a meal together without a recipe. So, maybe not the rigid rule-follower that I first thought.

Then I suspected I could be a Type Two, the Helper. It made sense to follow the numbers chronologically, perhaps, so I explored the part of my personality that was insistent on pleasing people. The part of me that wanted to be ever agreeable, that could intuit the needs of the people around me and react to them. But, as I began to go deeper, I questioned whether it really painted the whole picture, or just zoomed in on one part.

So I went to the Type Three. The Achiever. This type fit for the part of me that wanted affirmation, that worked hard to be the top of my class, that drove me to become a lawyer. It seemed to fit for my desire to be seen as capable and get stuff done. I tested out this space for a while and then began to realise the shoe was a little tight. While it explained what I ‘did’, it didn’t really explain my motivations for why. Living with a Type Three husband made it very clear that we are different in many ways and I could see firsthand that perhaps this wasn’t quite the right fit either.

Then my anxiety came to the fore. Type Six became the answer. In times of stress I did tend to obsessively forecast and imagine worst-case scenarios. I wallowed in feelings of anxiety and had experienced a few panic attacks. Perhaps this was the answer. I lived life as a Six for a year, fairly content that I had settled upon the answer.

But it turns out I was wrong. Again.

I dabbled in the Type Four (exploring my creative musical, writing and baking side) for three days, questioning whether I was in face the ‘self-preservation’ subtype that doesn’t seem at all like the typical emotionally-driven Four. But again, it didn’t quite seem explain everything.

The problem was, I’ve begun to notice, that each time a box presented itself, I gladly enclosed myself into it. I needed the safety and structure of that framework. A way to tell myself what to do and how to be.

I was happy to even ignore parts of myself if I just could fit into that box.

I had always glossed over the Type Nine when reading about the Enneagram. A characteristic that I feel is universal for the Nines. They are the Peacemakers, the Mediators, the mockingly named ‘Wallflowers’ in the Millenneagram iteration of the typology. The ones who blend into the background and hold the community together. But they are also the ones who largely go unseen. My view of the Nine was confined to the stereotype – languid and docile, given to procrastination and long naps. The opposite, I felt, to who I was.

But was it?

The more I began to look into this conundrum, the more confused I became. Could I really be a Nine?

I mean, I had taken five attempts to type myself – a quintessential problem of the malleable Nine. I abhor conflict and often find myself saying what I think the other person needs to hear rather that what I actually think (which often only makes itself available to me after the fact).

In fact, when I was nineteen, this quality landed me in trouble when my ex-boyfriend turned up at my house after our tumultuous three month relationship finally ended and he thrust a handful of my handwritten letters towards me. ‘Either you meant what you said in these letters and you will give them back to me as a sign in due course, or you never meant the words in the first place and you can keep them,’ he said. I accepted them wordlessly, and nodded, all the while thinking in puzzlement ‘but I wrote what I thought you wanted to hear? Isn’t that what I was supposed to do?’

In times of growth, I go into action mode (towards the Type Three) – making plans, setting goals, moving forward. In stress, I all-out panic. Seeing all that could go wrong, descending into an abyss of anxiety (Type Six). I drank to ‘numb out’, which is a known problem for the Nine, and now I sink with determination into books – preferring the fictional world to my own complicated one at times. When I’m in a crowd and trying to get through, I constantly apologise for my own presence and the thought comes into my mind unbidden: ‘I’m in the way’).

Sigh.

So, either I am a Nine (or ‘Nineish’, as my Spiritual Director suggested I refer to myself for now), or I’ve broken the Enneagram.

The problem is, and what I’ve realised to be true, is that the Nine doesn’t really provide that box shape I was looking for. I feel vulnerable and exposed, like I’m not quite sure who to be now. Am I allowing myself to be co-opted into the agendas of those around me because I fear (or cannot access) my own? I feel loose and fluid, unconstrained.

And that scares the hell out of me.

During the past year with my Spiritual Director, I’ve explored the box I grew up in and reflected on how my conservative upbringing has provoked some of my issues now. But, it came to me unbidden in the bathroom yesterday as I was brushing my teeth, it is fair to predict that I would have climbed (jumped even!) into any box that looked half-decent.

So yet again, (I’m not sure why I’m surprised), underneath it all, the person I have most to blame (as always seems to be the result in these self-discoveries) is myself.

This Enneagram business is complicated. I’ve spent a good part of the past five years reflecting on it, reading books about it, writing series based upon the nine types, even a middle-grade magical realism/adventure series with these elements woven in….but I find myself a beginner yet again.

It’s like having a mirror that shows you a different angle of yourself. A part that you might not have looked at for some time, or perhaps hoped wasn’t there. My illustrious journey through each of the (mis)types has shown me something that I may not otherwise not have discovered.

So, if you find yourself with some time during this lockdown and you are brave enough to open that door to the inside that you might have been putting off for so long… I do recommend the Enneagram. It sure isn’t a predictable journey and you might find it takes decades to unravel, but each step of greater self-awareness is one step closer to your best self. The person you really wish you could be.

Because if you don’t know why you do things, you will be compelled to continue doing them over and over. And if that isn’t the definition of insanity…

It won’t be easy.

But then again, nothing worthwhile ever is…