BBC Quiz: What am I like?

Results

Counsellor

The four aspects that make up this personality type are:

Summary of Counsellors

• Search for meaning in their life and develop powerful insights
• Are dedicated to helping others reach their potential
• Think of themselves as gentle, peaceable and cautious
• Others may find it difficult to get to know them

More about Counsellors

Counsellors have a natural understanding of human relationships and the complexities of life, which they use to help others. They search for meaning in everything and develop complex insights.

Counsellors feel most relaxed and creative when their surroundings are organised. They are deeply private people who only share their insights with trusted friends; however, they will defend their values if challenged.

In situations where they can't use their talents or are unappreciated, Counsellors may withdraw from the people around them or become resentful. Under extreme stress, Counsellors may feel overwhelmed and be driven to organise small parts of their lives such as their kitchen cabinets or their record collection.

Counsellors typically prefer a few close relationships to a wide circle of friends.

Counsellor Careers

Counsellors are often drawn to jobs where they can help people develop emotionally, intellectually or spiritually and where they can use their imagination.

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You scored as Eating Disorders, Congratulations! You have an eating disorder! You know what it's like to have "fat" eyelids and that there's exactly 58 calories in one medium-sized green apple. Western society has discarded your well-being for sickly, paper-thin models and celebrities; welcome to the club, sister. Eating Disorders 100% Unipolar Depression 58% Borderline Personality Disorder 50% Antisocial Personality Disorder 17% Schizophrenia 8% Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder 8% Which mental disorder do you have? created with QuizFarm.com

Surprise, surprise!

I don't care if it hurts...
I want to have control.
I want a perfect body.
I want a perfect soul.

Superbad was... superficial. That's all I can say about it, really. It was pretty funny, but it was also extraordinarily shallow. I can't imagine living the sort of empty existence where alcohol, house parties, and completely unemotional sex ruled my life. Of course, my own existence is not really that much more fulfilling, so who am I fucking kidding here. I'd so get plastered just to forget about this shit, and I've done so in the past. Actually, the movie made me want to get plastered again so I can forget about my goddamned life for a little while.

I don't know what the fuck is going on with me lately, or what to do about it. I think I'm getting depressed again, but I don't even know why, let alone how to fix it. My weight is somewhat stable, at least for now, but I feel like my eating has been shit -- completely inconsistent and often terrible. Half the time I don't even like food, don't want to eat it at all, but then there are many occasions where I eat far beyond comfortable satiety, and I end up feeling packed full and guilty and generally disgusting.

My psychologist doesn't help me at all, and the appointments are a load of bullshit that usually make me feel better temporarily, but don't really help in the long run. I don't want to switch AGAIN, though, because that's too exhausting and I'm sick and fucking tired of getting bounced from psychologist to psychologist. The whole thing is a crock of shit, and I want OUT. That being said, though, I don't know if I actually can stay out indefinitely without feeling like... well, like this. Depressed and hating my life and not knowing what the fuck to do about it. So I might make an appointment anyway, and plan what I'm going to say in advance, and then actually SAY IT. Because I get in there, and the fact that she's nice erases any remote traces of assertiveness I might have had before going there, and I get all passive and more interested in having her not hate me than in telling her what I actually think. And what I actually think often isn't very nice, or very tactful, but I don't know how else to say it and still get across what I need to, so usually it just gets wiped out of my head as I try to subliminate how horrible I really am. But I can't do that again. I CAN'T. And yet I may end up doing it, and therefore waste more of my own time, more of my own life, wallowing in this crap in my own head.

I still don't understand why the fuck this shit had to happen to me.

Please note: I am not asking you for sensible, rational, common sense answers. I am sick of fucking common sense. If it was a matter of common sense IT WOULD BE FIXED BY NOW. It is clearly not even remotely fixed, so it clearly has nothing to do with common sense at all. So please refrain from making so-called helpful "constructive" suggestions.

The aftermath of Katrina: Two years later

A few of the places in this article look worse now, two years after the hurricane... but most of them are just as beautiful as they were before, if not more so. I think it's a pretty great testimony to how nature really will repair itself after major disasters -- things do eventually bounce back -- etc etc. (Insert extended optimistic ramblings here.)

If you don't want to listen to me whine and bitch and pity myself, skip this one.

I mean that. I don't want any negative comments on this entry, or even negative thoughts. (PS: Post a negative comment and you're getting an instant permaban.)


I have no empathy anymore.

In fact, I have no emotions anymore.

I don't feel anything deeply. People around me laugh and smile and intuitively enjoy themselves. Sometimes I have moments of superficial happiness; but half the time when I watch other people interact, when I listen to their conversations, my brain will not allow me to just flow with it. After so long it completely shuts off my thought and emotions paths, and says, "What's the point?" Or "That doesn't even matter." Or "That's a waste of time." And then my brain... well, it tries to lead me to other things that are supposedly not a waste of time. But I think my brain is getting it all backwards.

Somehow I managed to train myself to think that anything which was not contributing DIRECTLY to a goal I had set for myself was a waste of time. So, for example, in my goal to become a clinical psychologist, the bachelor's degree, the master's degree, and the internship are not wastes of time. However, everything else is. Every hour I spend working at --place--, every hour I spend engaging in leisure activities or sleeping or eating and whatever... none of that is important. Basically, my brain tells me that the actual act of living is not important -- only those things that contribute to a goal are important. It will not allow me to relax, to take time over anything... instead, after I spend a very short amount of time doing any one activity, my mind automatically tries to make me flit to the next thing. I spend a lot of time on the surface of life these days, and hardly any in its depths. And I absolutely HATE that; but I can't seem to make my thought processes stop doing it.

I think this began to happen when I was pushing myself into restriction. It takes a certain amount of brainwashing to believe that starving yourself for an objective is worthy -- and, of course, part of the rationale would be the end result. So I told myself that it did not matter what was happening here and now -- it didn't matter how shitty I felt or how physically miserable I was or how pathetic my life was in general. Since I had this arbitrary, open-ended goal of restricting food intake and (nearer the end) at least not gaining any weight, if not purposely losing, the rest of my life was unimportant. The goal was what mattered, not the living.

The problem is, I don't know HOW to MAKE my mind flip around. I mean, how exactly do you make yourself enjoy life? How do you force yourself to believe that things are important? How do you force yourself to view life as you saw it before, not as you see it now? How would anyone else actually know, anyway, since what you're trying to artificially accomplish comes more naturally to them than anything else in the world?

++++++++++

Today my coworker told me that I looked like a clinical psychologist. But then she said something about how I'm not warm, but I'm not entirely cold, either. All I could glean from that was that I'm not wholly aloof or bitchy, but I don't exactly strike people as empathetic or approachable. How the fuck can I possibly be a clinical psychologist if people think I am that remote? Or, worse, if I am that remote?

Something has to change, but I don't see how that is possible. I'm convinced my current psychologist has no clue what the fuck she's doing, evidenced in the fact that she never sticks to her guns about ANYthing, and has never yet given me any solid, constructive feedback that has actually helped me. She does not dig deeply into issues; in fact, if you don't bring an issue up, SHE doesn't, either. She told me that she believes things will come out when the time is right... which, in her world, means you either specifically and pointedly bring it up, or it never ever gets spoken of. Now, forgive me, but ISN'T IT HER JOB TO ASK ME QUESTIONS ABOUT WHAT'S WRONG?? And isn't it also her job to realize that sometimes, when something is hard for a person to talk about, they might skirt around the issue or try not to talk about it at all? Isn't that HUMAN FUCKING NATURE? WHY does she expect me, and apparently all the rest of her patients, to somehow be elevated to superhuman status? It's complete bullshit, and I'm so totally fucking through with her and trying to get through to her, because it will never work. And, actually, she's got me jaded towards all psychologists. If she, supposedly so good and probably one of the best this province has to offer, has no fucking idea how to do her own job, who the hell am I going to find who CAN?

I don't know. I don't know, and I'm incredibly frustrated with it... or as frustrated as I can be when I detach myself from my own emotions most of the time. My guess is that there are a whole bunch of things I find too painful when I let myself actually feel shit, but I wouldn't know, because I have nowhere to safely explore that, not having a psychologist to go to who is any good. You see why I'm NEVER going to get better? You see why I will never achieve my dream of being that (actually good) clinical psychologist, and will end up being a failure who is never able to deal with her own fucking emotions? BECAUSE NOBODY CAN FUCKING HELP ME BECAUSE APPARENTLY I CAN'T FUCKING BE HELPED, BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE 100% INSIGHT INTO EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE AND I PUSH PEOPLE AWAY WHEN IN FACT I REALLY WANT THEM TO KEEP PUSHING SO I'LL FEEL LIKE IT'S SAFE FOR ME TO TELL THEM SHIT.

It's totally not possible to lose 0.6 lbs in a day, but apparently I did. I think I was retaining water before. Still, though, I'm sure most of you understand when I say it's nice to see the scale go down, even when you didn't lose any real weight.

Yeah. That's all I really wanted to say. I have to go work now, and after that I'm going to a friend's birthday party. Wish me good fortune -- and non-excessive eating! :P

What is the point of being available on the Internet for hours at a time, on MSN, AIM, and email, when hardly anybody ever takes me up on it?

I feel like the biggest fucking loner/loser on the face of the planet.

I'm so upset.

I've been REALLY triggered to the restriction a LOT lately, and I'm on the point of actually doing it again. I feel disgusting and unworthy and like everyone else is getting the attention that I could get, too, if I just started restricting again and lost some fucking weight. Plus I feel like I'd look SO much better (read: not fat) if I lost like 10 or 15 lbs, and I really fucking wish I could, and afhgsfdsafhshdfsd.

Maybe I just need a fucking nap. I'm really goddamned tired.

But I'm just so upset these last couple of days. I have actually considered cutting and everything, and I'm starting to hate my life and myself again, starting to feel alone and unwanted and unloved and not understood again, and I don't know where it's all coming from or why it's all hitting me so hard NOW or what the fuck I can even do about it. Or if I even care about doing anything about it.

My goals are meaningless. My life is useless. It really doesn't matter if I sit down, withdraw from everyone, and slowly fade away until I am just a memory -- if I even become that. It doesn't matter what I do at all, because no matter what I do, I am never any happier and nobody ever understands me any better and I am always, always motherfucking ALONE.

WHY THE FUCK DO I HAVE TO KEEP LIVING THIS KIND OF STUPID LIFE, EVEN AFTER I HAVE SUPPOSEDLY COME SO FAR IN MY "RECOVERY"? WHY??????

I bet if I never posted a single entry here again, the majority of you wouldn't care at all, and possibly wouldn't even notice. I mean, I know a few of you would care... I just don't think most of you would.

Nobody's really replied to any of my latest entries, either. Is it just because nobody knows exactly what to say, or because none of you are really all that interested?

It's no wonder I haven't been writing in here lately. Why would I bother, when I can just write in my private handwritten journal and get exactly the same amount of feedback. Right? Right.

So apparently I lost a pound... wtf? I'm pretty convinced my scale is lying to me, so I'm not exactly in rejoicing territory right now. Maybe if I continue to weigh myself and it sticks, I will... I dunno. *shrug*

You know, one thing I've noticed about myself is that when I'm bulimic (or, previously, restrictively EDNOS), I lack vitality, passion, and most of the other major qualities that make me me. But I know that, usually, passion is one of the things I want taken away when I do it.

See, I'm basically scared of it. Of my own intensity. And, I mean, I keep thinking I have good reason to be. Didn't I land myself in hospital a bazillion times last year, because my intensity made every negative emotion overwhelming, so overwhelming I couldn't deal? Didn't all my problems, for years and years and years, come from the fact that I had so many fucking feelings and no outlet to express them? My loneliness and my desire clashed against each other, ripping a void inside me which managed to fill itself only with turmoil -- never with anything that might have patched it over or, god forbid, FILL it. No. I remained continually alone, and things spiralled down and down and down until I hit rock bottom in a few different ways.

I made the desperate decision that I wanted to change, that I wanted my life to be better -- but has it actually gotten any better? Let's look at the objective facts. I'm employed, which I haven't been since August 2005. However, I'm not going to be in school this September, which continues to depress me and make me feel angry and extremely neglected. Not to mention that the combination of full-time in fast food + no school makes me feel about as useless as a pea pod. I mean, I can't help thinking that if I wasn't doing this job at A&W, someone else would be... it's not like I make some sort of shining contribution that others would not be able to do the same way as me. Fast food? Most people can do that at least decently well. You know?

And emotionally, has it gotten any better? I've delved deeper into a few areas I was previously afraid to touch -- gotten more in tune with myself -- but is it actually any better? Getting in touch with the stuff that I have has made me feel even more alone and separate. Of course, I can also see possibilities in the future, and in several months that could start to change a little bit... but then again it might not. I can't know for sure until things begin to unfold. And, of course, I have a very tumultuous past that has to be dealt with at every turn, seemingly, and will possibly hinder the things that could happen. Argh. I'm being really vague and possibly not making much sense, so I apologize if that's the case.

Anyway, the fact remains that I continue to be lonely and lack any really close IRL friendships, or the ability to confide in, well, just about anybody. The whole therapy thing is turning out to be a bunch of bullshit -- I'm on the point of wanting to see my psychologist, er, almost never. It doesn't matter if I'm symptomatic or not, because either way she is not helping me deal with anything. She told me herself that it is not her "style" to push people, and I am always too afraid to just say things out of the blue, so I don't think we're quite compatible in that regard. On the other hand, I'm not sure that even if my first therapist was around here, I'd be all that willing to talk about some of this stuff. Of course, she also wouldn't just give up on me the second I said "I don't want to talk about that", which is what the current one does. (I mean, come on... who WANTS to talk about stuff that's extraordinarily painful to them? That doesn't mean they shouldn't talk about it! Jesus!! I think my current therapist is a bit of an idiot about some things, and that's one of them. But anyway.)

I'm... peeved, and alone, and I have to cope in whatever fashions I can figure out on my own, since I have no one I really, inherently trust to ask for opinions. I do not inherently trust the therapist, and basically no one else even knows most of my history, or my current situation, or how much some things frustrate me. So I am alone, and I pretty much see fit to do whatever I want to do. If that happens to be bulimia, then, well, fuck whoever is trying to tell me to stop. That's the long and short of it, really. I don't have to stop if I don't want to, because I control me and nobody else controls me, so I really feel like just ignoring all those people who tell me I should recover, etc etc.

I mean, when things emotionally suck, where exactly is my motivation coming from to get better? I gave it a shot -- I waited -- I tried to have "hope". I cannot continue to have that indefinitely, for months and months, without results. I cannot live hanging in suspended animation, living for the sole purpose of waiting for a change that doesn't happen and doesn't happen and doesn't happen. I just can't do it. I have to live in the place that I am right now; I cannot continue to ignore it. And if bulimia and vague depression and existential issues are where I am right now, well, that's all there really is to it, from what I can see.

So a friend expressed interest in hearing from me, and I wanted to write something somewhere this morning, so I figured this journal was as good a place as any. Probably the most private place I have right now, actually... but I'll explain that in a second.

Emotionally, I've been feeling pretty much like crud. I've also been ridiculously bulimic, for me, and it's starting to drive me crazy... and sometimes I feel like I mean that literally. As Marya put it (probably not verbatim), it's starting to take on a life and force of its own -- and it's getting ridiculous and out of control, and I really have to try and put a stopper on it NOW before it spins so far out of control that I can't see myself without it. If that happens, I don't know if I actually will be able to stop.

I know I'm just doing it to cope. It's not even about the weight loss anymore -- although I wouldn't mind losing some more weight, if I'm being perfectly honest here. The fact is, though, that I'm not really actively restricting per se. I think I'm eating enough to sustain myself -- I really do -- and that's the aim. Overeating makes me uncomfortable and horribly guilty, so I have to try and avoid that at all costs. The problem is that when I get the urges to overeat, they are difficult for me to resist; or, I start doing it because at that particular moment I'm apathetic, and then as I continue I start to feel panic-ridden and guilty and start thinking about how I can get it out of me when I'm finished. Usually, of course, that leads to a binge, because if I'm going to be a pig anyway, why not do the thing until it's done? That's what I always think. If I ate that much, I might as well eat more, and get rid of the whole lot of it once I'm done.

I'm still petrified of gaining any weight at all. I am around 127 at the moment, and for me 130 is the absolutely intolerable limit. If I got to 130, it feels like, my whole world would crash down around me, and remain in pieces until I dropped a few pounds. It's pretty ridiculous that 3 or 4 pounds matters so much to me, but it really does, and it continues to boggle my mind while at the same time I almost feel like a scale worshipper. I mean, I know I've been WAY worse than I am now -- daily weigh-ins, anxiety if not actively losing, etc -- but the fact that this still has such a strong hold on me is just ridiculous. And yet it continues along like this.

I also feel like my outlets for venting are becoming fewer. Just recently I had one of my sister's friends subscribe to me on YouTube -- which, of course, means that there's a 99% chance that my sister now knows about the account, too. So this makes me feel like I can't be open about anything I'm currently struggling with, ED-wise or otherwise, since she might see it. Naturally this also made me start thinking: Who else might be able to stumble upon my channel that I wouldn't want watching? So this makes me think about what subjects I can cover when I am afraid that other family might watch, coworkers, even people who I have on Facebook or whatever that know me distantly. And it makes me want to hugely censor myself; and the fact that I have to do that at all makes me very angry. But I guess it was kind of inevitable that one day I would be discovered by someone, and "outed", so to speak. I hate having to enter the realm of private videos, sent only to my Friends list, but that's exactly what I'm going to have to do. *heavy sigh*

Anyway, I have to go. I have to be at work shortly, so I have to leave... er, now. Hopefully some of you read this, though. That would be nice. I feel really alone lately, misunderstood, blah blah blah... but I think some of you will understand some of what I've written here. I really hope so, anyway.

Au revoir.

Some of you know that I have been vaguely considering doing a Bachelor of Science instead of a Bachelor of Arts, which would usually have been my default choice. A couple of you were pretty surprised that I would even consider majoring in sciences instead of arts, and with good reason. I was, too, actually. But I figured out why I was even thinking about it.

See... science is safe. With science, you just have to learn the material and recite it back, robot-like. There are right answers and wrong answers. There is no grey area of essays and opinions and research, where people can criticize you and judge you and find fault with every argument and statement and source. I mean, obviously there is a point at which science can start to be questioned -- but all that is based on empirical evidence, solid facts, whatever. It is much more impersonal, and less widely open to interpretation, than arts.

That being said, science can be pretty cool, and very useful, and I actually have liked science ever since I was young. I never really saw myself as having a scientific career, but I always liked science.

So... am I just pursuing it because I'm afraid? Would it be a mistake to do the science thing? Am I really an arts person who'll be doing myself a great disservice with a B.Sc? I don't know. I'm just... confused a lot lately. I don't seem to have much idea who I am or what I like or what I want to spend my time doing or what my passions are or who I want to be in the months and years to come. And I've been trying to figure all this out on my own, but I'm not sure I'm going to be able to do it on my own, and I find attempting to sort out everything in my head very overwhelming and difficult, but I know I have to eventually.

God. Why must I overthink everything and make all this shit so complicated?? Holy crap. I need to shut off my brain somehow. Only I have no idea how to do that, either. *headdesk*

I'm getting to the point again where I feel as though no one truly likes me, and I have always been alone and always will be alone, and I don't like it. The worst part is that it's not any one thing that drives shit like this -- it's a bunch of things which all seem to lump together in my head, in ways I can never predict and am not usually able to follow as they progress, and so the end result hits me all at once and it seems to come from totally out of left field.

But maybe I am actually alone. Maybe I always was. It certainly feels that way, anyhow. And there are still aspects of myself which I feel I must keep hiding from the general public, and I don't see how that's going to change... but unless it changes, I will always feel horribly alone and unacceptable to people. And I have no fucking idea where to even start resolving this issue.

Why is my brain so fucking screwed UP?!?!

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

I was purging.
Guess I was pretty loud, cause the sister heard.
And she sends me these lovely messages on MSN:

FUCK OFF.
RIGHT NOW.
IM SICK OF HEARING THAT FUCKING BULLSHIT FROM YOU.


So these are the messages I send her back.

#1:
YOU fuck off. I'm sick of you trying to guilt-trip me into bullshit. Leave me the fuck alone.

And then a few minutes later, message #2.

PS: You know why your opinion doesn't matter to me on this issue?
Because you could give a rat's ass about ME.
The only reason you give a shit at all is because you think it's "gross" or something stupid like that.

It doesn't matter to you what's going on in my head. All you care about is your own convenience and comfort. You you you.

Well, I'm fucking tired of living to try and please other people. Not like it ever fucking works anyway. All anybody in this family ever does is bitch at me for this or that. So you might as well just give it up.

The day you actually give a fuck about what it does to me, instead of what it does to you, send me a real message.
Until then, fuck off, because I don't want to fucking hear anything from you.


I mean it, too.

I'm fucking sick of her, of them, trying to control me.
I'm sick of her acting like she owns the fucking place, and trying to boss me around.
I'm sick of the way she acts like she is the center of the universe or some shit, and I should cater to her because she is her.

No.

I'm sick of this bullshit, and right now I could care less what she knows about my purging and what she doesn't know. What she knows is not important. In fact, what my parents know is not even important.
What's important is that, for once, I am going to do what I fucking want to do, and they are going to have NO SAY AT ALL in it.
And that's the way it's going to fucking be.
And that. is. FINAL.

So, sister, you can screw the fuck off.
I don't want to listen to your bitching and whining and complaining anymore.
If you can't have any compassion, just shut your goddamned fucking mouth.