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dew-line · 5 years ago

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Life, death, and rebirth – developing and redeveloping a personality on a progressing timeline

So. I had a little fun today. The last task on the psychology course was to write an essay on personality development based(ish) on Mischels theories about personality development. The guidelines were a tad loose, and I choose to run with it. The text below is what I submitted, hopefully I’ll get som feedback on it tomorrow or in a few days and I’ll keep you posted on that. :D //Jimmy How does one begin to describe, in any relatable fashion, the development of one’s personality, especially as it is a work of perpetual process? One must, I assume, begin at the beginning: I was born. Then there was nothing until I developed a basic sense of self awareness and the ability to define myself in relation to other people and objects. In that very moment I created the world; but you may rest easy, for I am a humble god. Especially so since I stopped demanding the immediate satisfaction of my basic needs and allowed myself to be shaped into this present form by the mold created by my parents and by society; by boundaries drawn by cultural and linguistic traits Thus, like the Christian God I was made flesh and blood – now writing before you as this maculate conception, ever learning as I progressed over the years, constantly striving to fill out this rudimentary sketch of “me” drawn by my parents with ever more content and subject matter. I learnt of poetry and philosophy – the power of word and thought, and thus, in my late teens, I entered a new phase. Let it begin with these words from the gospel [abridged] of St. Charles the Inebriated.

”Born like this

Into this

Into these carefully mad wars

Into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness

Into bars where people no longer speak to each other

Into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings

Born into this

Into hospitals which are so expensive that it's cheaper to die

Into lawyers who charge so much it's cheaper to plead guilty

Into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed

Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes

Born into this

Walking and living through this

Dying because of this

Muted because of this

Castrated

Debauched

Disinherited

Because of this

Fooled by this

Used by this

Pissed on by this

Made crazy and sick by this

Made violent

Made inhuman

By this

[…]”

Charles Bukowski – ”Dinosauria, We”.

Now, I may not have turned out quite as bitter and fatalistic as the aged Bukowski, but I do confess to a certain faiblesse for the absurd, in Camus’s use of the term, that existence is without meaning and purpose, and that beauty lies in –the absurd– meeting between this knowledge and continuing to striving too, despite this knowledge, fill life with love, beauty and personal meaning.

I was born into a classical working class home at 09:28, December 25th 1974, the first child of a young mother and an alcoholic and controlling father; two parents that had the unusually common sense for their time to realise that they should not be together, and thus early becoming a child of separation – my parents were not married. I was doomed to the life of bi-weekend migrations between families – as this was long before the enlightened era where parents manage to handle child care in an adult fashion and share the weeks equally – a conduct that, in my case, created a feeling or rootlessness and a sense of drifting rather than establishing solid connections within either family – my mother and my father’s new families respectively. This rootlessness in turn created the foundation of a lifelong fear of abandonment and also of a shyness that manifested itself in an extroverted way – acting like the class clown, hiding emotions behind first erratic behavior and later, as I grew older and developed an arsenal of wit and amassed at least a modicum of knowledge – in early attempts at humor. I also developed the foundation of a contrarian mindset that is still present to this day. I despise the consensus – mainly because a consensus promotes a lack of progress and a lack of progress is the base definition of death. However, when I was a child the main reason for causing disruption, even if I was not aware of it at the time, was that it is easier to hide where there is disorder. Being judged by one’s behavior was far more preferable to being judged on who I actually was.

It was at this age, around the age of seven or eight, that I came to the conclusion that religion was not the answer. Being introduced to a light version of Christianity in an after-school setting, being taught the core concepts of the New Testament, I promptly told the teacher that it was nonsense and, if I recall correctly, was not invited back for the second semester. Much to my mother’s dismay, I presume. By this time, we had left Uppsala and moved out into the countryside, a move that lead to an increased isolation on my behalf – this suited me perfectly as my main interests, especially as I started fourth grade, turned into literature and music. My mother had always read out loud for us when we were little, and I have always had a strong imagination – making the immersion into literature both smooth and welcome. Music also became an important present at this early age – literature and music has followed me ever since. The main part of the eighties was spent in my room reading and listening to music.

What beautiful time it was.

Reading has had a huge impact on the forming of the person that I am today. All adults that I was surrounded by, in a formative sense – part from teachers – lacked any higher education and we did not really discuss much at, particularly not on my mother’s side, where I spent most of my time. My father, on the other hand – and this is based on long term memories, I cannot vouch for the validity of these memories as I have not spoken to the man in over 20 years – had a creative side – he tried to keep up to date, enjoyed certain intellectual activities. And whisky. And to listen to music. And whisky. And occasionally to beat his kids. Personally, I can’t remember to have ever being beaten by him, that seem to have developed later. My two brothers on my father’s side got to take the brunt of it as I can remember, however – he also had a knack for the words and was happy to share his opinions on how useless we were. That one has stuck with me. As I grew up and became older, and also stronger, this abuse increasingly became a greater and greater problem for me – culminating in me eventually starting to step between my father and my younger siblings when he got ”into the mood”. Eventually, however, I came to the point where I could not keep doing this and as I neared adulthood the relationship with my father and also my father’s side of the family slowly ebbed out. Initially, and for some years I felt that I had let my siblings to fend for themselves, but that feeling is long since passed. I have processed this, and I have moved on. It had to be done.

I once asked my mother why they did not put any pressure on us when we were younger. Why they never pushed us to do better in school or had any opinions on what we choose to study in high school. The answer was that they wanted to let us choose for ourselves, that we should study what we wanted. The guidance counselor, I remember, told me to look find a job in a warehouse. Packing vegetables at the COOP. The direct result of that was that I ended up studying for two years to become a bricklayer. I had no ambitions. I choose what I knew, since my stepfather and my father both worked in construction. I should not have been there. My only proper skills after being through the Swedish school system in the 80’s and early 90’s was a decent grasp of English. There were no jobs for me in construction, nor would I have been interested if there were any. If change was to come it was not through family, the school system or anything else. It was through me.

Looking back, however, it is interesting to see how much my life has been formed from the experiences of these formative years. I have no friends or acquaintances from before I started studying at university for the first time in 1998. Non whatsoever. I was social, I had friends – but I have never been sentimental – and I would rather let friendships run out from time or distance. No strong ties, no risk for emotional trauma. One might say that I started to reconstruct my life in my early twenties, I got into a new profession, I applied and got accepted into Grythyttan, Sweden’s premier hospitality industry education, a higher education under the management of the university of Örebro. This pretty much meant everything. Getting away from Uppsala and then – by the slight detour of three years in Grythyttan – to Stockholm meant everything. There is a reason why the Stockholm tends to draw people to it: the chance to rebuild yourself, to turn you into the person you want to be, to let yourself take center stage, if you will. Those were the formative years. They were great years. Working in the restaurant business in Stockholm in the early 2000’s was a smorgasbord of hedonism; food, wine, spirits, drugs. The sky was the limit. What a time to be young. And had not an underlying feeling that there must be more to life kept on nagging me I’d probably still be there today, standing on the brink of being a burned out wreck – but instead I got out, I diversified and got into wine import, into copywriting, photography – always searching; and I think that I am finally starting to get an idea.

I woke up one morning in December 2018, taking stock of my life. What I had done, where I had been, where I was and what I wanted to do. The same day I applied for a late admission course at Södertörn and started studying the very next month. I am very curious to see where I will end up.

#the DEW line #psychology #mischel #essay #forfunsies

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