When the world’s on your shoulders

And the enemy is in the guest room

My daughter keeps telling me I’m a 1. She ostensibly doped this out because of a free, short Enneagram test that she read to me over the phone, but it helps that she’s been by my side for 22 years.

I finally looked it up yesterday, and I really have no argument. In fact, as much as I’m a Gemini, and an ENFJ (or an ENTJ, depending on the day), I fit the Enneagram 1 profile as if it were written for me.

I like most of what I read. I do feel a need for purpose in my life. Mission. Cause. I believe that I could engage in moral heroics, if the situation arose; in fact, I think there are opportunities all around, and it often breaks my heart that I can’t address every last one.

But that’s a good thing and a bad thing.

With the rise of nationalism and hate in places that were more stable for most of my adult life, it’s been nigh impossible to check myself before I wreck myself. I’m a white woman with a college education who has finished single-parenting her daughter, so I could, conceivably, tune out the worst of it. But my significant other of ten years is a diehard, card-carrying member of the Republican party and a fan of Trump, so much so that he says “we” when arguing a point. As in “we conservative Republicans,” versus my…