Diagnosing Me
My roommate thinks I have Asperger's Syndrome.
I don't. Nowhere near, but it made me laugh to hear it, and considering me mentally handicapped seems to help her relate.
I've gotten as many results for the Meyers-Briggs personality sorter as times I've taken it. The same roommate who thinks I am mentally challenged is also certain I'm an introvert, but I'm not at all sure anymore. Most of the results of my personality tests, and voter-type tests, etc. are skewed by the decisions I've made for what goes on in my head, and generally, they place me near the center - rarely squarely at any end of a dichotomous scale. Except the "which Marvel character are you" test, which swears I'm the Hulk. Apparently I'm too emotional for internet quizzes. And there are abberrations in my personality that are the direct result of personal lifestyle choices.
Let me suggest that no matter how scientific, multiple-choice tests cannot capture the complexity of a whole personality. They might offer insight into friction between people, or problem-solving styles, but they'll never tell you who you are and why you do all the things you do. If you want an accurate picture of who you are and why you do stuff, I wish you much luck, and snigger cynically behind my hand.
If I'm an introvert, I'm an extremely social one. I get lonely, feel neglected, and often need to reach out for a conversation or affirmation to keep my balance. I need outside ideas - that's why I listen to people. If I'm an extrovert, I'm an extraordinarily introspective one. I spend my most rewarding time inside my own head. I curate information, gather intelligence, sift through ideas, and . . . well, this blog. But then. . . this blog. But then. . . the other blogs.
Thinking about oneself is problematic, in that it's, well, narcissistic, and self-centered. My roommate would probably defend the practice of self-analysis (if she were inclined) by arguing that it's learning about how to relate to others, and how to get along in the world with other people, but what you get from analyzing yourself to deal with other people are skills to A) manipulate people, or B) develop an avoidance instinct.
If you want to learn how to relate well to others, learn about THEM as individuals, and practice a heavy amount of tolerance and forgiveness. But don't categorize us, file us, label us as "introverts" to excuse our bitchiness, or diagnose our mental disorders, as selfless as that might seem to you at the time. It's patronizing. It's insulting. It's human shorthand. It's lazy. Nobody's entire existence or personality is contained within a single diagnosis, any more than we fit into stereotypes.
I don't. Nowhere near, but it made me laugh to hear it, and considering me mentally handicapped seems to help her relate.
I've gotten as many results for the Meyers-Briggs personality sorter as times I've taken it. The same roommate who thinks I am mentally challenged is also certain I'm an introvert, but I'm not at all sure anymore. Most of the results of my personality tests, and voter-type tests, etc. are skewed by the decisions I've made for what goes on in my head, and generally, they place me near the center - rarely squarely at any end of a dichotomous scale. Except the "which Marvel character are you" test, which swears I'm the Hulk. Apparently I'm too emotional for internet quizzes. And there are abberrations in my personality that are the direct result of personal lifestyle choices.
Let me suggest that no matter how scientific, multiple-choice tests cannot capture the complexity of a whole personality. They might offer insight into friction between people, or problem-solving styles, but they'll never tell you who you are and why you do all the things you do. If you want an accurate picture of who you are and why you do stuff, I wish you much luck, and snigger cynically behind my hand.
If I'm an introvert, I'm an extremely social one. I get lonely, feel neglected, and often need to reach out for a conversation or affirmation to keep my balance. I need outside ideas - that's why I listen to people. If I'm an extrovert, I'm an extraordinarily introspective one. I spend my most rewarding time inside my own head. I curate information, gather intelligence, sift through ideas, and . . . well, this blog. But then. . . this blog. But then. . . the other blogs.
Thinking about oneself is problematic, in that it's, well, narcissistic, and self-centered. My roommate would probably defend the practice of self-analysis (if she were inclined) by arguing that it's learning about how to relate to others, and how to get along in the world with other people, but what you get from analyzing yourself to deal with other people are skills to A) manipulate people, or B) develop an avoidance instinct.
If you want to learn how to relate well to others, learn about THEM as individuals, and practice a heavy amount of tolerance and forgiveness. But don't categorize us, file us, label us as "introverts" to excuse our bitchiness, or diagnose our mental disorders, as selfless as that might seem to you at the time. It's patronizing. It's insulting. It's human shorthand. It's lazy. Nobody's entire existence or personality is contained within a single diagnosis, any more than we fit into stereotypes.
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