Type Three and Anxiety
Tsivya Larson (Type 3)
Enneagram Type Three (the Performer), the ideal of our culture with its projections of boundless health and self-confidence, hardly seems the place to begin research on anxiety. However, a Three who has begun to practice self-observation may begin to notice that the air of self-confidence is a performance designed to hide anxieties from the audience consisting of oneself, as well as others.
The onset of an anxiety attack can be quite sudden. Those of us with type Three personalities can be the life of the party one minute and find ourselves obsessing over an offhand remark or a look the next. Often this begins in a moment of solitude after a period of social interaction when our attention is no longer focused outward. If we are prone to shifting easily to the suspicious, Six side of the inner triangle, the sinister nature of the incident might pop into our heads with the intuitive flash of the “aha!” experience, leading us to believe that it simply must be true. The stage can vary; it makes no difference if the anxiety is played out against the backdrop of the office, the family, social or religious group, or even the neighborhood, but the effects are always the same—and extremely unpleasant. The mental function obsesses over the language or gesture or the context in which the suspicious incident manifested, and tries to “think” its way through the quandary. The emotional function will respond with a variety of negative states, which may include anger and indignation. The body may behave as if it were under attack, with adrenaline and acutely tensed muscles, which, if left unchecked, may even result in the generation of illness. During a severe attack, we may find ourselves unable to be present to what is in front of us, unable to breathe, unable to concentrate, unable to sleep.
How do we deal with anxiety attacks? If we have access to counterphobic Six, we will confront the situation head-on to discover if our assessment of the situation is correct, perhaps packaging it to the other person as a “reality check” in order to save face. This strategy sounds a lot more useful than the phobic approach, which is to brood and avoid, but in reality it has very limited results. If we find, much to our surprise and delight, that our assessment of danger is incorrect, the thrill of relief lasts a very short time, and soon our machine is hot on the trail of another plot.
However we handle the situation, one theme is common: we are convinced that our well-being and happiness are dependent upon something external to us.
Because our lives are at a complete standstill during an anxiety attack, in the moment we feel like we are willing to do anything, anything, to make it stop. If we are particularly mechanical and external at the moment, we may decide to change jobs, end the friendship, or become ingratiating. If we are dabbling in Work ideas, we might resolve to stop whatever behavior we believe has caused the situation, such as talking back to a supervisor or arguing with the spouse. We might even, if we have been working on ourselves for a while, resolve further to not express negativity, talk less, and keep our energy more centered. And, if we remember to make these efforts, we might even see a lessening of anxiety.
However, the situation calls for a much deeper change, a change of attitude towards ourselves on the very basic level of self-definition. And then, deeper still, since the way we define ourselves also defines how we view the world and reality.
How did we ever get in this pickle in the first place? Let’s go back to a happier time, maybe a week or a month ago, when our “product” or our act received compliments. Who we are and what we do are two entirely different things, and yet the Three machine—OUR machine—would convince us that we are our product, we are our image. We define ourselves as the good mother or father, the compassionate friend, the wise shopper, the top salesperson.
The name of the role hardly matters; there are an infinite number of variations on a theme. They all have one common thread: we are the best, the most efficient, the Authority. As long as others agree with us—or, more accurately, don’t contradict our fantasy—all is well with the world. But let this position be threatened, and not just the role, but the very foundation of our existence, is in jeopardy. We are not afraid only that we will lose someone’s esteem or our job, but our very justification for existence. We fear not that the axe will lop off a branch, but that it will destroy our roots.
Paradoxically, at the moment that we embraced the role, we rejected the talents and efforts which we brought to it that resulted in success. In the moment when we could have sat with the knowledge that we have done the job well, when we could have eaten the fact that we are capable of doing a good job, we have rejected it for the role. The idea, “I am capable of meeting the demands of the moment” has a much broader range than just being the authority on a given subject. If I have let myself be capable of imaginative thinking and hard work, then it is possible for me to let myself be capable of other things, too, such as courage or sensitivity; the possibilities are endless. However, embracing a role excludes everything which is not defined in that role, and these things then become part of our unacknowledged dark side.
Let us go back further still. As young children, we were not dealing with issues such as approval, identity, and justifying our existence. We were content to be in the moment. Our finger painting was a joy to make and fun to look at and show off—for maybe five minutes, and then on to the next adventure. If another child said our painting was awful, our life and position were not threatened. Somewhere since that time we have picked up excess baggage, the belief that we have to do a job or be a role just to exist.
As children, when we were frightened or wanted something very badly, we made promises to heaven to be good or attend religious services if only we were granted our heart’s desire, and too often, when we did receive what we wanted, we went happily on our way without fulfilling our promise. Now, as adults, we do the same, making all sorts of promises which are forgotten when we are on the “feel good” swing of the pendulum. When we are lost in the false security of the “feel good,” we forget that the anxiety attacks even exist. And yet, therein lies the roots of the problem. If I did not place my sense of self in the product or the image back when it was being received favorably, then my machine would not feel threatened when the product is criticized or the image is tarnished. The Three machine really does believe, “Love me, love my product.” Further: I am my job, I am my role, I am my product.
Once a full-blown anxiety attack is underway, it must be treated with emergency measures, much the same as one would treat a medical crisis. One can attempt to distract the mind from obsessive thinking by putting oneself in a place where focused attention is demanded, to relax the body through vigorous physical exercise and deep breathing, to quiet the emotions by attempting to be more fully in the present moment. However, just as the most effective medicine is preventive, the real work must be done earlier in the cycle, when the machine, basking in approval, identifies with the role. The ego feels inflated and the machine feels large, but, in truth, we have just been reduced from the fullness of our humanity, with its glories and pain, to the superficial definition of a narrow role. Were someone else to do this to us—define us as a “sex object,” for instance—we would run quickly in the opposite direction, but when our machine whispers enticingly in our ear, we obligingly fall under the hypnotic spell. And that is the moment that the real work can take place, the work of separating from the lies of the machine.
Separating means holding it apart from myself. I am here, it is there. We—the feature and my Self—are separate and distinct. Separating does not mean arguing. Arguing serves only to bind us tighter together. When I separate, I can watch the Three machine as it postures as the Authority, identifies with the product, and places its sense of self in the approval of others. When I can watch this uncritically, then it is not me. Every little bit of energy which is freed up from having to shore up the machine, is that much less energy to feed the anxieties, and that much more energy available to be used for my real Self.
__________ Enneagram Monthly, Issue 183, December 2011
The onset of an anxiety attack can be quite sudden. Those of us with type Three personalities can be the life of the party one minute and find ourselves obsessing over an offhand remark or a look the next. Often this begins in a moment of solitude after a period of social interaction when our attention is no longer focused outward. If we are prone to shifting easily to the suspicious, Six side of the inner triangle, the sinister nature of the incident might pop into our heads with the intuitive flash of the “aha!” experience, leading us to believe that it simply must be true. The stage can vary; it makes no difference if the anxiety is played out against the backdrop of the office, the family, social or religious group, or even the neighborhood, but the effects are always the same—and extremely unpleasant. The mental function obsesses over the language or gesture or the context in which the suspicious incident manifested, and tries to “think” its way through the quandary. The emotional function will respond with a variety of negative states, which may include anger and indignation. The body may behave as if it were under attack, with adrenaline and acutely tensed muscles, which, if left unchecked, may even result in the generation of illness. During a severe attack, we may find ourselves unable to be present to what is in front of us, unable to breathe, unable to concentrate, unable to sleep.
How do we deal with anxiety attacks? If we have access to counterphobic Six, we will confront the situation head-on to discover if our assessment of the situation is correct, perhaps packaging it to the other person as a “reality check” in order to save face. This strategy sounds a lot more useful than the phobic approach, which is to brood and avoid, but in reality it has very limited results. If we find, much to our surprise and delight, that our assessment of danger is incorrect, the thrill of relief lasts a very short time, and soon our machine is hot on the trail of another plot.
However we handle the situation, one theme is common: we are convinced that our well-being and happiness are dependent upon something external to us.
Because our lives are at a complete standstill during an anxiety attack, in the moment we feel like we are willing to do anything, anything, to make it stop. If we are particularly mechanical and external at the moment, we may decide to change jobs, end the friendship, or become ingratiating. If we are dabbling in Work ideas, we might resolve to stop whatever behavior we believe has caused the situation, such as talking back to a supervisor or arguing with the spouse. We might even, if we have been working on ourselves for a while, resolve further to not express negativity, talk less, and keep our energy more centered. And, if we remember to make these efforts, we might even see a lessening of anxiety.
However, the situation calls for a much deeper change, a change of attitude towards ourselves on the very basic level of self-definition. And then, deeper still, since the way we define ourselves also defines how we view the world and reality.
How did we ever get in this pickle in the first place? Let’s go back to a happier time, maybe a week or a month ago, when our “product” or our act received compliments. Who we are and what we do are two entirely different things, and yet the Three machine—OUR machine—would convince us that we are our product, we are our image. We define ourselves as the good mother or father, the compassionate friend, the wise shopper, the top salesperson.
The name of the role hardly matters; there are an infinite number of variations on a theme. They all have one common thread: we are the best, the most efficient, the Authority. As long as others agree with us—or, more accurately, don’t contradict our fantasy—all is well with the world. But let this position be threatened, and not just the role, but the very foundation of our existence, is in jeopardy. We are not afraid only that we will lose someone’s esteem or our job, but our very justification for existence. We fear not that the axe will lop off a branch, but that it will destroy our roots.
Paradoxically, at the moment that we embraced the role, we rejected the talents and efforts which we brought to it that resulted in success. In the moment when we could have sat with the knowledge that we have done the job well, when we could have eaten the fact that we are capable of doing a good job, we have rejected it for the role. The idea, “I am capable of meeting the demands of the moment” has a much broader range than just being the authority on a given subject. If I have let myself be capable of imaginative thinking and hard work, then it is possible for me to let myself be capable of other things, too, such as courage or sensitivity; the possibilities are endless. However, embracing a role excludes everything which is not defined in that role, and these things then become part of our unacknowledged dark side.
Let us go back further still. As young children, we were not dealing with issues such as approval, identity, and justifying our existence. We were content to be in the moment. Our finger painting was a joy to make and fun to look at and show off—for maybe five minutes, and then on to the next adventure. If another child said our painting was awful, our life and position were not threatened. Somewhere since that time we have picked up excess baggage, the belief that we have to do a job or be a role just to exist.
As children, when we were frightened or wanted something very badly, we made promises to heaven to be good or attend religious services if only we were granted our heart’s desire, and too often, when we did receive what we wanted, we went happily on our way without fulfilling our promise. Now, as adults, we do the same, making all sorts of promises which are forgotten when we are on the “feel good” swing of the pendulum. When we are lost in the false security of the “feel good,” we forget that the anxiety attacks even exist. And yet, therein lies the roots of the problem. If I did not place my sense of self in the product or the image back when it was being received favorably, then my machine would not feel threatened when the product is criticized or the image is tarnished. The Three machine really does believe, “Love me, love my product.” Further: I am my job, I am my role, I am my product.
Once a full-blown anxiety attack is underway, it must be treated with emergency measures, much the same as one would treat a medical crisis. One can attempt to distract the mind from obsessive thinking by putting oneself in a place where focused attention is demanded, to relax the body through vigorous physical exercise and deep breathing, to quiet the emotions by attempting to be more fully in the present moment. However, just as the most effective medicine is preventive, the real work must be done earlier in the cycle, when the machine, basking in approval, identifies with the role. The ego feels inflated and the machine feels large, but, in truth, we have just been reduced from the fullness of our humanity, with its glories and pain, to the superficial definition of a narrow role. Were someone else to do this to us—define us as a “sex object,” for instance—we would run quickly in the opposite direction, but when our machine whispers enticingly in our ear, we obligingly fall under the hypnotic spell. And that is the moment that the real work can take place, the work of separating from the lies of the machine.
Separating means holding it apart from myself. I am here, it is there. We—the feature and my Self—are separate and distinct. Separating does not mean arguing. Arguing serves only to bind us tighter together. When I separate, I can watch the Three machine as it postures as the Authority, identifies with the product, and places its sense of self in the approval of others. When I can watch this uncritically, then it is not me. Every little bit of energy which is freed up from having to shore up the machine, is that much less energy to feed the anxieties, and that much more energy available to be used for my real Self.
__________ Enneagram Monthly, Issue 183, December 2011