Melancholic with Type A Personality

I’d heard of Type A and Type B personalities before, but I didn’t seem to fit into either category. Type A are supposedly harder-working, competitive, ambitious, organised, intense, hostile, and stressful. Type B are laid-back, relaxed, disorganised, friendly, and so on.

The problem with a lot of these descriptions is that they seem to be dealing with Type A personalities of a Choleric temperament. But in the pursuit of a cure for my auto-immune condition, I’ve come across more general descriptions of Type A which suggest that a person could be Type A regardless of their temperament.

I don’t think I’d ever be mistaken for being an over-achiever, but that’s because most people think of specific, socially esteemed and easily recognisable achievements like winning sporting competitions, getting promotions at work, hosting big parties, winning awards, and so on.

What about someone who feels bad if they aren’t working toward some kind of goal, however humble or eccentric? Or what about someone who pushes themselves towards goals that they find more difficult than others because of their temperament? Or what about the temperament type that ruminates and analyses everything in exhaustive detail, and treats those silent efforts as a kind of progress to be made?

As I understand it, a Type A personality is about being driven, and it doesn’t matter where you happen to be driving to. I have a med-student friend who is also melancholic and Type A, and  all the study she has to do in addition to family, work, music, and other commitments makes me feel sick just thinking about it. I’m not achieving anything so exalted as a medical degree (or so I tell myself in false humility) yet I greet each moment of potential rest with the question “what could I be getting done instead?”

I’m acutely aware, for example, of not having made any cheese since my blue brie finished over a week ago! Not only that, but my beer reserves are getting perilously low, and I’ll have to make time for another brew soon.

I jumped at the chance to turn this reflection into a blog post, because I haven’t written any for a while and I’m feeling genuinely bad about it, because I’m measuring my self-worth in large part by how productive I am. It doesn’t matter that my idea of productivity isn’t typical: those sardines aren’t going to salt-cure themselves! (Actually, they pretty much do once they get going).

Several months ago, in the midst of severe back pain I tried something a little unusual at the behest of an acquaintance with an interest in hypnotism: I asked my subconscious mind to tell me what the real cause of my pain was.

The answer I received was a mental image of myself lying face down in the driveway of our home, pinned by the front wheel of my car which happened to be driven by another me.  Apparently my subconscious mind loves puns and metaphors as much as I do. The message was clear: I am crushing myself with my own drive.

Still, it’s taken months and additional resources from people with expertise in this field for me to recognise the greater extent of this “drive” that is making me sick, stressed, and sad, when really I have so much to be grateful for in my life.

I’m so accustomed to it, I’ve embraced it so wholeheartedly that this drive feels like “me”. The thought of not accomplishing anything today, or this hour, or this minute makes me feel anxious and nauseated. On some level I’ve decided that I’m running out of time, I need to get things done at any cost. I’ve come to believe in the inherent goodness of purposive activity, and I feel empty and inept without it.

Something is terribly wrong when you feel like you can’t go to the park with your wife and son because it’s too good an opportunity to “get things done”. Something is terribly wrong when the act of getting out of bed to “get things done” is hampered by severe pain despite feeling inwardly fine.  There’s something wrong when the high of analysing, pursuing, and seeking to solve problems and understand mysteries drowns out love, happiness, and the experience of peace.

Part of me enjoys the pressure, the power, the sense of control. But like any addiction, it’s a mask, a distraction and a false sense of self.

Anxiety and the Melancholic: part three

In part one we looked at the anxiety of a melancholic in a sanguine world, and in part two we covered the anxieties that arise from a melancholic’s mistakenly taking phlegmatics as a social model. Part three will examine anxieties that stem from the influence of cholerics.

So how does the choleric contribute to melancholic anxiety?

We saw in part one that our society is heavily influenced by sanguine ideas of fun and excitement. In a similar way, society is heavily influenced by choleric sensitivities toward ambition, power, and achievement.

Most people enjoy socialising to some extent, but sanguine influences shape our experience and understanding of what it means to be social, of how to be social. Likewise, everyone desires some degree of success in their efforts and exploits, to improve their position in life, to accumulate some measure of wealth; yet how we go about it is shaped by a variety of choleric influences.

The melancholic tendency to form and pursue ideals means that we idealise the choleric approach to ambition just as we idealise the sanguine approach to social life. And in a sense this is accurate: sanguines are the ideal socialites, cholerics are the ideal achievers; melancholics just need to learn that recognising an ideal does not mean we can or should achieve the ideal.

Cholerics are as diverse as any of the temperaments, but what they have in common is achievement and ambition as their primary motives. Cholerics are excitable and reactive like sanguines, but like the melancholic they form long-lasting impressions. This combination can leave cholerics with the impression that they’re the smartest guys in the room, and there’s some truth to this conclusion.

The excitability and reactivity of the choleric makes them far more sensitive to opportunities than the melancholic or the phlegmatic can ever be. Their enduring impressions give cholerics a long-term vision and a capacity for focus that sanguines typically won’t sustain.

Every “self-made man” story is most driven by a choleric temperament. But that’s not to say that every choleric will resemble a business tycoon. Even amongst the usual list of ambitious and successful businessmen (and women) there’s a diversity that reflects the range within the choleric temperament: flamboyant, viscerally arrogant men like Trump; quiet achievers like Gates; intense iconoclasts like Jobs; their success stories can differ wildly, and even the quality of their success may be open to debate, but they share an ambitious quality that, once you recognise it, is distinctly choleric.

Cholerics are successful across a range of endeavours. You will find choleric musicians, actors, academics, managers, bureaucrats, and of course, politicians.  Their particular combination of excitability and enduring impressions leads them to find the most advantageous position in any domain.  Put yourself in a choleric’s shoes:

Imagine you’re hiking with three friends and together you stumble across traces of gold out in the bush. You realise there may well be more gold in this area, and naturally you start considering whether you could buy the land or carry out a quiet survey, what exactly the logistics and possible returns on such a venture might be.  You decide to discuss it with your friends* but to your surprise your sanguine friend seems put off by the hard work involved. Your melancholic friend seems to like the idea of a gold mine, but doesn’t seem to realise that this is potentially what you are all standing on. Your phlegmatic friend is agreeable, but doesn’t really have an opinion on the matter. Since no one seems to be truly on board, you pursue it for yourself and become the proud owner of a literal gold mine.

*Actual cholerics may be wondering why you would risk sharing the gold mine idea with your idiot friends in the first place.

As per the example, cholerics are more ‘tuned in’ to the opportunities and advantages in life. Sanguines are (apologies) too superficial, while melancholics and phlegmatics are too oblivious.  It’s not that these other temperaments don’t want to be successful or that they can’t be successful, they just have difficulty pursuing success in the choleric way.

For these three temperaments, it might be better to say that they achieve success through doing what they love or enjoy.  Actually this is true of the choleric as well, they just happen to love succeeding, overcoming challenges, pursuing what they believe is worthy.  Unfortunately, the biggest defect of the choleric is an overestimation of their own worth. Feeling like “the smartest guy in the room” encourages a sense of arrogance, and cholerics are known to struggle with or succumb to a powerful pride.

So while it is true that the other temperaments often fail to see the opportunities before them, it’s also true that they tend to recoil from the ruthless and self-serving actions that are sometimes implicit in seizing those opportunities. Australian politics is at present exemplary of the dark side of the choleric temperament. Idealists need not apply, and thankfully the poisonous nature of the process is evident enough to dissuade most non-cholerics (and probably many cholerics) from getting involved.

For the melancholic, it is vitally important to recognise cholerics and the choleric influences in society, and to understand that we are fundamentally unsuited to the kind of life that puts ambition and personal advantage ahead of ideals. While all temperaments can learn from one another, with knowledge it becomes clear that choleric attitudes and strategies are simply not appropriate for the melancholic idealist.

For me this translates into the recognition that I am deeply averse to commercially driven activities. My idealism does not incorporate what I regard as a mercenary motive. Yet at the same time I know that such things simply do not seem ‘mercenary’ to a choleric, within reason. When I think of all the cholerics I have met or worked with, I know that their ‘successes’ would seem to me either empty success or even failures.  Yet there are other cholerics with whom I have a great deal more in common, whose goals are perhaps more idealistic in their ambit.

Regardless, it is a great relief for a melancholic to realise that many of our socially reinforced ideas of ambition and success simply do not apply to us.  We are idealistic rather than ambitious, or if you like, we are ambitious about our ideals.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Learn to crush your dreams

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For any melancholic a vital skill consists in learning to crush your own dreams, and see through your ideals.

This might sound a little depressing and counter-intuitive, but for melancholics there is a real danger that the ideal will drive us to extremes of attitude and action, leaving us obsessed or even possessed by a single all-encompassing dream.

I’ve had it happen to me on numerous occasions: recently when I decided that I should put everything into my writing, and subsequently felt as though every moment was either a writing moment or a wasted one. I became productive, yes, but more importantly I became acutely conscious of the disparity between reality and ideal. As time progressed and my creativity inevitably slowed, the ideal became an indictment of my stupidity, laziness, ineptitude and ultimately my humanity.

There’s nothing wrong with having a dream or an ideal, and for melancholics it is essential. But we slip up when we allow ourselves to believe that if we attain the ideal everything else will change. The fact is that when or if we ever could attain our ideals, we would very quickly find ourselves bored, dissatisfied, and ready to move on to something bigger and better.

Crushing one’s dreams is really about reminding yourself -often painfully- that the idealised outcome is really not that wonderful. Good? Yes. Desirable? Certainly. Life-changing? To a degree. But only a degree.

I’m currently in the midst of another ideal: this time the ideal of creating ever more wonderful and satisfying products. I’ve made bread, beer, yoghurt, rice wine, coffee, limoncello, pasta and pasta sauce; but all I can think is that I can’t move fast enough onto the next round of magnificent consumables: bacon, soy sauce, tofu, sake, sea salt, mozzarella, fetta, and about half a dozen other ideas that elude me at present.

All of these take time, preparation, equipment; and all I can see is that I’m falling short on all three.

The problem is that I’m letting the dream take over. I’m implicitly accepting that the more I get these delicious products in play, the more my life will change for the better. The problem is that this is entirely true, just not as significant as it seems. This manic phase of urgent productivity is not at all healthy. It strips the enjoyment from the process, turning these enriching and satisfying products into a mere list of achievements.

Seeing through an ideal, crushing a dream, neither of these means repudiating the goal. It just means we need to remind ourselves that true happiness is distinct from these enticing activities, goals, or accomplishments. They are well worth having, but not at a cost to one’s genuine happiness.

When I feel the pressure of the ideal mounting, I try to remind myself that happiness, peace, and a relaxed state of quiet are achievable at any moment. There are no prerequisites, so long as I am not driving myself to distraction in the first place.

There’s no denying that my ideals are pointing me toward a better, more enriched and satisfying life. But it won’t be any of those things if I lose all perspective along the way.

Not inspiring enough

While we’re on the topic of spinning one’s life story into an inspiring and significant journey worthy of book sales and talk-show appearances, this apposite piece by Throwcase hits the spot:

Though Man insisted he was just like any regular person, he was not deemed unique enough for this claim to sound self-effacing, humble, and inspirational. Instead, it came across as accurate, leaving reporters unable to spin his story into a short and emotionally wrenching video for lazy able-bodied slops to feel inspired and quote at parties as if they personally knew him.

http://throwcase.com/2014/09/08/disabled-kid-not-an-inspiration/