Embracing Being a Scanner, An ENFP and my inner Kate Winslet
Shot on the road in Goondwindi last week.
Most days I have so many damn ideas floating around in this little old brain that their sheer volume presses on some strange nerve inside and renders me paralysed.
Unable to choose one. Unable to act on any. Unable to move forward.
Compound to this the discovery that I am a classic ENFP personality type – no really, I even did the test twice – and there you have it. I get so inspired and excited by the next shiny, new idea that I fail to complete whatever it is I was just working on. Really, I should just take a moment to appreciate the miracle of me not having eighteen babies by now. (But they’re just so…NEW!)
On one personality profile breakdown (which, by the way, I couldn’t recommend anybody doing this more highly – it really blew my mind, and then my husband’s when he did his, it was spookily accurate in terms of…well everything from how our personalities affect our relationships, our parenting, our career, our reaction to reading personality profiles…) it said that the key to my success was this:
PRIORITISE. FOCUS. AND FOLLOW THROUGH.
So that is what I’m trying desperately to work on over here at Comic Mummy HQ.
Already though, I amuse myself no end with my rebellion against these “helpful” guidelines. No kidding, the little tantrum I put up internally at having to narrow down my current focus projects to three was not unlike a hippy chaining themselves to old-growth.
“Nooooo!” shriek my inner rebels, rallying for dear life against the bulldozers of discipline. “We shall not be defeated! You shall not pass!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” say the voices of organised reason. “I’m not LOGGING your damn ideas, I’m simply putting them out to pasture. Just for a bit. Where they will be happy. And continue to become old growth. Let go! Let go! Let go!”
“I’ll never let go!” say the hippies, somehow morphing into Kate Winslet. “I’ll never let go, Jack.”
But, as we all know, even dear old clingy Kate found it in herself to let go of poor old Leo, eventually, thrusting him downwards to his icy fate. (In her defence, she was rather chilly as I recall, and I know my brain turns to mush when I catch a cool breeze).
Point is, she did let go. And so shall I.
Image courtesy of http://www.meh.ro
I don’t know about you, but I’ve got Celine Dion playing in my head right now.
Never a good thing.