There’s Nothing Wrong With You

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.” —Albert Camus

From left to right: Susan Olesek & Alan Brooks shelter under an umbrella.

I recently asked our newly forming class in San Quentin Rehabilitation Center, “Why are you here?”

To be clear, I’m not asking what anyone did to end up in prison. I ask everyone I work with the same question—whether they’re a CEO or behind bars. I know why I’m there. I’m there because working with the Enneagram compels me to look more deeply into why I do the things I do; every time I work with it. Other personality tools show patterns in behavior; I’m interested in what drives people—the why before the what. 

Over the years, the depth of self-inquiry I’ve witnessed in prisons using the Enneagram has convinced me that a compassionate approach is the most effective one. Going gently begets the kind of honesty I think inner work requires. Folks are terrified of their unconscious. I want people to experience me as a guide, not a judge or critic— they already have one or both of those.

My work on the inside inspired me to found Enneagram Prison Project (EPP) in 2012. Our vision is to free people from the prisons of our minds. 

It’s working.  

Alan is the first one to answer my question. He clears his throat and says, “I did 49 years in prison I don’t want anyone to do the kind of time I did. I spent decades trying to free myself. I was stuck, and I really want to help you to not be stuck that long.”  If we were playing Poker, Alan would be our ace in the hole, but this is no game; the folks in the room are not messing around. Alan is an EPP Ambassador. We met in a classroom at San Quentin eight years ago. I’m bursting with respect for him.

The Enneagram is a psychological system, a map of what’s right about you. Alan identifies with Type 4, the Romantic. Fours come to teach the rest of us about depth and beauty. True to type, Alan’s words drop everyone in the class into more presence. The other men in the room have been doing “The Work” together for years in the same self-awareness training course Alan took way back when. Most of them will go before the Board of Parole Hearings within the next year.  

Alan is the real deal. He went before the Board of Parole 24 times before they found him “suitable,” a word I dislike, but one I also accept. I respect the commissioners who serve on the board. I wouldn’t want their job. I work with Type One on the Enneagram, called The Idealist. Type Ones come to teach the rest of us about goodness. When I am present, I can see the good in pretty much everyone, but it took me a long minute to get present to myself. 

When I met Alan eight years ago, he sat to my right in a newly assembled classroom of 50 men in blue. I asked the same question then, “Why are you here?” Alan was tight in the grip of personality at that time, and responded provocatively. 

“I’m dying,” Alan said. Enneagrammers call Fours a “Truth-Teller.” It fit. To look at him, I didn’t doubt that he was dying. He was pale and gaunt. Of course, existentially, we are all dying, but I didn’t know then that Alan was in his fifth decade of incarceration. I also didn’t know all the ailments he had.

“And, why are you here?” I asked Alan again that day.

“I have been diagnosed with narcissistic tendencies and antisocial personality disorder. I’m here to find out what’s wrong with me.”

I took a breath and told Alan the truest thing I could think to tell a Four in that moment. 

“Alan, there’s nothing wrong with you.” He stuck around for eight years to find out for himself whether that was true. Today, Alan is alive and well. He knows that what’s right about him is the authenticity and heart he brings to every space and to everyone in his presence.

In response to my question, another Type Four spoke up and said, “There’s an old joke that goes, Doc, it hurts when I go like that. The Doc says: Don’t go like that.’ We start to chuckle, but the Truth-Teller isn’t trying to be funny. He continues intently, “All the groups I’m in seem to say, ‘Hey, don’t go like that.’ EPP was the first class that asked, Why do I go like that?”  

I take a breath; it’s going to be a great six months together.