They say when you take a psychology class, you feel as if you yourself have every disorder you are studying. I am in an Educational Psychology class for my credential program and presently I think I have dyslexia, A.D.D., and I am gifted. One of those may actually be true, but something that I discovered about myself yesterday can be denied by now one… I am a blue.
Yesterday in Ed Psych, we took the “True Colors Test.” (If you’re interested, you can take it here: http://www.truecolorsworkshops.com/test/true-colors-quick-assessment-test/) It separates people into four categories: gold, green, orange, and blue. Being one who adores every online quiz imaginable from Harry Potter House [Gryffindor] to “What day will you get married based upon your Chipolte order” [June 3rd, 2020], I was thrilled to find a new test… or at least I was, until our professor handed out the cards.
Each color’s card had a different representation on the front. Green was a mime looking stoic and thoughtful, orange had mimes snowboarding, gold had mimes surrounded by money, and blue was two mimes in a tableau of a romantic couple in Shakespearian garb. My face dropped. Dammit… I’m blue — the stupid romantic.
In college, the boy I was in love with said, with a roll of the eyes, that I “loved too much.” He was saying it in reference to a rant I went off on about something in class and not about himself, but nevertheless, it weaved its way into my psyche as a “bad thing.” I started shrinking. For years I attempted to boil down my passionate inclinations for fear of overwhelming people. My social anxiety stems directly from the paranoia of “loving too much” or “showing too much.” My favorite part of “My Shot” in Hamilton is when Hamilton says, “Am I talking too loud, I get a little overexcited, shoot off at the mouth, I’ve never had a group of friends before, I know I’m going to make ya’ll proud” and they answer with “Let’s get this guy in front of a crowd.” I love how they validate his passion in that moment. But every time I start in about my beloved middle schoolers, or Hamilton, or women’s equality I cannot contain my passion and then right before I make an excellent and important point — I shrink… trying to remember to “talk less, smile more.” I put a lid on boiling passion and attempt to blend in with the people who likely cannot give a thirty-minute passionate diatribe about where to sit for Disneyland’s World of Color.
So, when the color cards were handed out and I saw the depiction of blue, I started to shrink. I tried to shuffle them around, telling myself that I’m really a green — an introverted introspective with a great mind… but I love my professor, and I cannot disobey the instructions of those I love.
Then we flipped the cards over and I read the descriptions. THANK GOD, I screamed, the green card had far more descriptions that related to me than stupid blue. I moved the blue card over into the “less like me” section, filled with relief.
Then our professor passed out a quiz with the same terms. We were suppose to write a 1 for “not like me” up to a 4 for “really like me” as we read various attributes. I went down the line, not thinking much about it as I had already declared myself a green. Then I tallied… crap.
Gold – 13 points
Orange – 14 points
Green – 15 points
Blue… 23 points
I stared at the results in loathing. Stupid, over-romantic, over-enthusiastic, stupid self. I started blushing, no one had to know this was mine. I could go on claiming myself as green.
“Alright, everyone get in your color groups.”
I moved, slinking my way across the room, ashamed of my silly romantic heart.
I am frequently amazed at the people God places in my life at exactly the moment I need them. I slouched in my chair in the blue group and looked around at the gleaming faces. It was me, one girl, and four boys. They all seemed fine to be blue.
We were handed another worksheet, one where we were to write down what “Values/Joys” our colors had, what “Strengths” we had, and what “needs” we had. My group started brainstorming around me. Things I had feared about myself were being flung around the group as “positives.” Slowly, I started to feel empowered in my “blue-ness.” It was okay to be passionate. It was okay to need to understand something on a deeper level relationally. It was a good thing to need quality time. The negativity in the words of my college love started to melt away. Hell yea, I “love too much!” And that’s a good thing! It makes me loyal, trustworthy, conversational, a good listener, and an excellent teacher/mentor.
After we brainstormed, our qualities were read aloud to the room. Then we had to share one thing about another color group that people thought were positive. The gold group said blues were “best friends” and the orange group said blues were the people who created the things we live for to make life worthwhile: poetry, art, and passion. My blue empowerment was nearly complete. I had the approval of my peers and a fresh perspective of my own skills.
Today I read the take-home handout our professor gave us about the different personality groups. I read over blue with a new wave of appreciation. It says there’s rarely a great artist who isn’t a blue and that blues were great counselors and teachers. Looking back over the quizzes and processing eight years of “shrinking” away from passion, I have decided to embrace my blue.