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Re: No one is a pure type
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Re: No one is a pure type

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Posted by Josie ( on May 24, 2003 at 11:25:33:

In Reply to: Re: No one is a pure type posted by Damian ( on May 24, 2003 at 02:33:34:


So, you escaped the drama of your parents via 5ish solitude?

As for me, as a 7w6, I never felt that my 6w7 mother understood me at all. I loved to escape into my imagination and doodle all the time (I still do), and instead of appreciating my creativity, she'd throw my drawings away. That really hurt. And she never understood anything about me. And I believe, between a parent and a child, the owness to try to understand the other is on the parent. Anyway, she'd work from 9 to 5 five days a week (she still does), and I wouldn't see her much anyway. And that was okay because she doesn't get me at all and she never will.

My father is a 1w9. He seemed to understand my creativity a lot better, and he encouraged me a lot. He was a stay-at-home dad, writing novels while I sat in front of the TV watching Sesame Street. Of course, 1s need 'perfect standards' for things, and mainly for him, it was (and still is) the 'perfect' use of the English language, the 'perfect' way to write a novel or a story, and he's an Anglophile (he grew up in London during WWII), so he'd tell me all kinds of stories about his hardship as a kid and the 'perfection' of the British military compared to the rest of the world. (It upsets him that the U.S. gets more credit for winning WWII than the U.K. in North American media.) My father made sure that my toddlerhood and beyond was filled with books. By the time I was four years old and entering Juniour Kindergarten in Canada, I could already read Dr. Seuss books without a lot of help (but slllloowwwwlly... LOL).

I'm an only child, and I grew up in Ontario, Canada. My mother is Maltese, and she was born and raised in Malta, but she immigrated to Canada in the 1960s. My father is 'English', he grew up all around London, and he immigrated to Canada with a wife and three kids (my half-siblings) in the 60s, also. My mother gave birth to a kid, my half-brother Anthony, in 1969, his father was a drug addict who didn't spend a lot of time with our mother. But she married him.

My parents met each other at a business party in 1982. My mother had just divorced Anthony's dad. Anthony was raised by our grandparents (our mother's parents), as she didn't feel she could handle him. So, she lived alone. My father had divorced his wife (the mother of my three other half-siblings), and my half-siblings ranged in age from 16 to 20, and they lived with their mother. My mother was smitten by my father, because he resembled a James Bond type, he was a British man in his 40s who was considered to be very handsome, blah, blah, blah. My father basically liked my mother so much because she was a pretty woman in her thirties who worshipped him. They got married in March of 1983, and I was born in January, 1984. (I assume that I was conceived during their honeymoon... LOL.)

Anyway, basically, as Anthony was raised by our grandparents, she was desperate to raise a kid of her own, and she was thrilled that I'm a girl. She imagined putting me in frilly dresses and putting my hair in pigtails with pink ribbons. My dad's 9 wing just gave in to her desire to be a mother.

But ironically, I worshipped my father as a little girl. He seemed to know everything (of course, everything was always explained in a harsh 'right or wrong', type 1 style, with some 'I can't control anything, things will get messed up anyway, and if you care it doesn't matter' 9ishness in the mix). I grew up learning a lot about my British heritage, but nothing about my Maltese heritage. I even had a vaguely Londonish accent as a little girl, despite my growing up in Canada, watching American TV. My dad worked at home as a fiction writer, and his first novel was published when I was just entering Kindergarten. When I was that young, I just assumed that EVERYONE'S daddy had his works in the bookstore. Anyway, a dozen or more novels would be published during my childhood, including translations into different languages and reprintings, but under several pen names. (No, my dad is neither rich, nor famous.) Basically, he was discouraged from writing for much of his adulthood, but when he married my mom and fathered me, he got into it. And along the way, as a young child, he insisted on my using the English language perfectly, perfect spelling, perfect grammar, etc. So, my 6 wing grew out of an emotional and intellectual dependance on his 1ness. As for my being a 7, my mother never understood me. I learned early on, as a young child, that if I wanted anything, I'd have to get it myself. So I did. And now I have an addictive personality that just wants, wants, wants. (LOL) I know I'm a 7w6, and not a 6w7, because I find myself going to 1 (when I resemble my father's harsh judgementalness) and 5 (when I'm content to be alone, and stay in my thoughts, like my 5w6 boyfriend), but never 3 or 9. I see my 6w7 mother go to 3 and 9. When she goes to 3, she's obsessed with keeping the house 'wonderful', like her idol, Martha Stewart, and when she goes to 9, she just collapses onto the couch, kind of becoming 'one' with it after work. And the list goes on. It interests me, Damian, that you find you move along the directions of both your core and your wing, because I only find my core shifting from time to time.

I see my dad go to 4 (the world will NEVER understand how I SUFFERED!) and 7 (when he walks around the house singing silly songs, etc.)

As for me, I never became at all close to my mother's son, as he's an 8w7 who's rude and crude and never gave a damn about me. My dad's three children (all of my parents' other children are in their 30s and 40s now) are my eldest half-brother, who's also a 7w6, the middle son who's a 5 (I'm unsure of his wing), and my half-sister, who's a 2w3. My 7w6 halfbrother and especially my 2w3 halfsister have made an effort to get to know me and love me, despite living in different corners of North America. So, two of my halfsiblings I hardly know, and two of them I know better.

My childhood was spent daydreaming, drawing, idolizing my father, and playing on my own. But my adolescence was really interesting. When I was 13, I discovered my sexuality. I began to realize how I differ from other heterosexual females, I discovered how I'm sexually attrcted to fat guys, with a lot of help from the Internet. When I was 14, I started to get into a political movement. When I was 15, I attended my very first convention of Ontario's 'fringe' party, that is relevent to the movement. The position of Secretary in the party's executive was vacant. During that evening, I started to bond with the Ontario Freedom Party's founder, Mary-Lou Gutscher. (Despite her breaking away from the my to create her own party, she's very popular and well respected with my party. No, I'm not a Communist, socialist or anything of the sort.) Everyone at the convention noticed all the time I spent with Ms. Gutscher, and consequently, I earned respect, too. Anyway, the position of Secretary was up in the air, and on a whim, I decided to run for the position. I won it! I was only 15... I must be the youngest political party executive ever, or at least among the youngest, despite my party's status as a 'fringe' party. Anyway, that really changed my life. What also changed me, when I was 15, was that I started to hang around downtown Toronto a lot on my own. I lost my virginity to a drug dealer/biker gang wannabe. I was never attracted to him in the first place, I was just really naive, and flattered that any man would want to have sex with me. Anyway, in between attending party meetings, I contracted herpes from him (damnit!) and he made me pregnant (damnit, damnit!). I got an abortion, (no help from him, of course) and I never saw him again.

When I was 16, I was really desperate to move away from my parents. When I was 12, 13, I started to lose respect for my father, being hurt by his 1ness and his infidelity and emotional abuse of my mother. I found a fat guy who just turned 50 who I was kinda attracted to. He's my 2w1 ex. He thought he was 'rescuing' me from the streets. But we fell in love very quickly and I moved into his Muskoka home. My parents were devastated. We lived in poverty for two and a half years. While I was 16, I broke away from the OLP because I could no longer attend meetings regularily. At the beginning of my relationship with the 2w1, our relationship was very satisfying. He was super affectionate, as 2s tend to be. I know it probably makes a lot of people cringe to think about a 16 year old and a 50 year old together, but what we were doing was legal and I was never 'exploited' or 'molested'. I very much wanted him and pursued him. He resisted because of the age difference. To this day, as a 19 year old, I don't regret my relationship with him. But, by the time I turned 18, I realized his 'affection' turned into a state of being overcontrolled. And he hit me when he was really angry. I eventually decided that he'd never change, and enough was enough. To be 18 years old, and to have a 53 year old crying at your feet is an experience that makes one grow up very quickly as well. I was never a 'teenager', after childhood, I just jumped right into adulthood.

Anyway, last October I met my 5w6 at a train platform. I just thought he was the most gorgeous man in the world, far better looking than my 2w1 ex. Amazingly enough, my parents actually approve of him, even though he, too, is in his 50s. He's very slow to commit, and he doesn't even consider us to be lovers yet, despite our affection, and all of the money he's spent on me. He's been flying around the world since mid-January on his sabbatical from work (he's very fortunate to have a career that requires only working ten hours a week for three months per year, that gives him a very good income for the rest of his life, yes, it's legal, LOL), and hopefully I'll see him for the first time since, in the next few days. He plans to take me to New York City for a few days. He's been e-mailing me, phoning me and sending me postcards and gifts during his trip, but now I haven't heard from him since Tuesday and I'm very worried. If I don't hear from him this weekend, I'll REALLY start to worry. Anyway, basically, he's a man who keeps his word and is generous with his money regarding me, loyal, but slow to commit.

Whew! I wanted to explain how my childhood made me a 7w6, and instead I gave you my life story.

I guess, as a curious 5, you've read it all, and now you're analyzing me?


Josie the 7w6

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