SELF-IMPROVEMENT
Prisoner of Personality IV
“10-Gallon” Problem: How Big Personalities May Lead to Big Trauma… and Big Opportunities
“We are ‘10-Gallon’ people, but we may have been born into families of people who have pint capacities.”
That’s how Bishop T.D. Jakes explained it on Season 3: Episode 13 of Oprah Winfrey’s show, Life Class. He continued “And when you are a ‘10-gallon’ person and you want love, you want it on a ‘10-gallon’ level.”
…A FERAL CHILD OF NATURE…
I’VE ALWAYS UNDERSTOOD that we all have different capacities, desires, abilities and needs for fulfillment. We thrive in various environments unique to our personal experiences and make-up. However, while I knew that we all struggle with specific conditions, complexes and limitations, the term “10-gallon” person was a revelation to me. Though Bishop Jakes and Ms. Winfrey were mostly speaking of the capacity to give and receive love, I was captivated by the all-encompassing illustration they drew of a particular type of personality — my personality; I resonated deeply with the idea of being a “10-gallon” person in all areas of life.
In my youth, I was energetic and independent — a feral child of nature — wild, clever and strong-willed, the master of my own reality over whom no one had authority. (At least, that’s what I thought at five or six years old.) I was forever seeking the forest and questioning the make-up of the world. Running, climbing, tumbling, talking — I was a “10-gallon” creature who flooded the world with my intense presence and vibration.
My self-expression thrived in the moment of my immediate drives, desires and needs. And I reveled in the high of my impulsive and impatient exuberance. I wanted what I wanted when I wanted it, and hated the inconvenience of waiting and having obstacles in my path. To fly free, to be right, to be in bliss — it was all I needed. And whether I was in joy, or despair, or ennui, or mania, I was often emotionally charged and unconcerned with the experience of others. In fact I could be so engulfed in my own giant personality and its encounters in existence that I could take over a space instantly and completely, leaving little-to-no room for others to have or enjoy their own experience of a situation. They were “prisoners of (my) personality”.
…A VAST POOL OF SELF-FULLNESS…
ADHD, THEY CALLED IT. Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. A neatly packaged way of saying a lot of things — even contradictory or unassociated things — at once… Can’t pay attention. Hyper-focused. Won’t sit still. Experiences paralyzed states. Impulsive. Indecisive. Compulsive, competitive, combative. Hypersensitive. Highly extroverted. Isolates from society. Disassociates from reality. Dysfunctional…
“Gifted” was another diagnosis. As if it were something only certain children could be. As if only certain traits were valuable. Retains information readily. Learns languages easily. More physically capable than her peers. Good at understanding systems. Capable of complex thoughts. Picks up skills quickly. Intuitive…
They told me I was “special”, which meant I was expected to perform exceptional feats in life. They said I was “mentally ill”, which meant I was expected to be a burden. In time I was surpassed in practical application and social fluency by most of my peers because I had no idea how to use my “special” or address my disorders so I could create or take advantage of opportunities for myself.
Then there were the conditions that had yet to be diagnosed. Social and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Depersonalization/Derealization Disorder. Major Depressive Disorder… I don’t know if there’s a term for it, but I was (and still am) empathic to the point that being around other personalities (especially strong ones) or energetic environments could throw off my focus, intuition and functionality if I couldn’t navigate their or regulate my own energy. My mind was always turned on. I entertained a myriad of ideas, designs, and insights; words, images, emotions and sensations constantly whirled in my being. There wasn’t a moment of silence or darkness in my mind.
With my combined powers, I had immense potential trapped in a cycle of detachment and self-sabotage, along with paralyzing doubt, paranoia and angst. I didn’t know how to discuss it, let alone do anything about it. The forces pulsing through me were tyrannical, and I had absolutely no idea how to deal with my situation. This “10-gallon” kid was drowning in a vast pool of self-fullness.
…THE WRONG TYPE OF ME…
AS I GOT OLDER I LEARNED TO “MASK” — the term for hiding your conditions so as to appear normal. It wasn’t easy. I used massive amounts of energy and effort to focus on appearing like I was functional. It wasn’t until later that I realized very few people were being fooled. A lot of them simply ignored, overlooked or forbore my character flaws and erratic behavior. The breakdown from the farce took its toll over time. I fell deeper into depression and anxiety because I was terrified of making a mistake, of embarrassing myself, of being hurt, of causing others pain, of always being excluded and ostracized, of missing out on all the things my peers were experiencing… I was too weird, too smart, too thoughtless, too pretentious, too clueless, too impulsive, too conceited, too verbose, too disconnected, too loud, too wild, too much, too much, too much. My “10-gallon” cup runneth over with the wrong type of me.
The major problem was that I struggled with responding appropriately to my circumstance, especially public situations. I didn’t know how to behave appropriately, and I didn’t know how to learn to behave. It was an elusive characteristic that everyone else had — some innate ability they were born with or something they picked up along the way. Either way I didn’t have it. And no one was talking about self-regulation, or personal work, or manifestation. There were no therapists or life coaches or shamans in my sphere. I didn’t have a guidance counselor at school, not even friends I could talk to on such a level. And my parents certainly weren’t prepared to guide me through the chaos that was my being. Everyone was a “prisoner of (my) personality”, including myself. So, not knowing how to appreciate or utilize my talents or regulate my “inferior” qualities, I was left in limbo. And alienated from the life I wanted, I ended up in survival mode — a wild animal in a cage, with no place in the world.
Each year brought me further into a self-loathing in which I lost my passion for life and angst turned to apathy and anhedonia. My spirit had been thoroughly broken and my sense of self lost in space and time. Shrinking into the abyss of self-deprecation, I became a thimble-sized person in a pint-sized world. Starting in early adulthood, I trudged through existence, a faded memory of my power and potential. I bonded with despair dressed as friendship, coupled with sadism pretending to be love, desecrated the temple of my soul, and finally landed under the bottom of the rock I kept crashing into.
…MY GREATEST GIFT TO THE WORLD…
BUT I CONTINUED TO EXIST. Against all pain, and suffering, and pleading for death, I unfathomably had not died. And after a considerable number of years drifting in the fog of a half-life, I found that I truthfully did not want to die. I did not want oblivion. I wanted a satisfaction I thought impossible — to live authentically and love myself and life as I had in the innocence of early childhood, but to do so with an appreciation and consideration I had never experienced before.
The realization gave me a glimmer of hope. That hope gave me a new direction. And ever-so slowly I began to prod and drag and push myself away from the hole I had buried myself in. Millimeter-by-millimeter I called in healthier experiences, compassionate people, more-supportive vibrations, better care for myself. I started building a new self from the excavation of the ravaged house of my soul, learning how to self-regulate and to nurture my being.
This is the process I’ve been building upon for the last several years. It isn’t glamorous or romantic. It’s exhaustingly cruel to have my buttons continuously pushed so I can become a better, healthier, more joyful person. This surgical lens of self-scrutiny is painstakingly difficult shadow-work that permeates every area of my life, keeping me honest with myself and supporting my journey forward.
I wish I could say that I have found belonging and acceptance at the level I desire, that I’ve learned how to navigate the intense sensations that permeate me. But I can’t. What I can say is that I’m taking the joy where I find it and celebrating the wins, even the little ones. I know I’m worth the effort of continuing with the process of being the mastery of life. My “10-gallon” personality, as cumbersome as it was, was my greatest gift to the world. And I want it back. I want to be vivacious. I want to thrive. I want to participate in life in a way that’s satisfying to myself and beneficial to the world. I want to feel that I belong here in this time, in my own way.
And how will I accomplish this?
I get to choose in each now-moment how to respond to all that life presents. I get to embrace my “10-gallon” practice — I’m learning to let go of what was, embrace who I am now, and envision what I truly desire to experience. I no longer measure the faults of my personality to ascertain my value; I measure my accomplishments — how far I’ve come compared to where I used to be, the goals I set and meet, how honest I am with myself, whether or not I integrate lessons learned. That is a tremendous distance regardless of what anyone else might think. I refuse to go back.
And I also know I’m not alone in this. Whether “10-gallon” or “pint-size”, there are many who have struggled or are struggling with the complexities of expressing their authentic selves in a collective experience. With so many hearts yearning to break free of their “prison of personality”, there are more opportunities for like-minded and like-hearted community, support and camaraderie.
But regardless of my circumstance, I know my worth. I know it grows every day that I work to accept, appreciate, ellevate and love who I am. I get to be in gratitude for the many blessings I can now see and the abundance that’s filling my “10-gallon” life.
I appreciate you taking the time to read my work. This is a part of an ongoing series. Though the pieces share similar themes, can be read in chronological order, and link back to each other, they are also self-contained. Feel free to examine the other sections in whatever way works for you.
If you’re interested in something different, you can peruse my poetry and short stories on my profile and my personal publication, The All-Self.
