What AI Thinks My Personality Is (After Two Years of Conversations)

Note: This post began when I jumped on a recent trend and asked my ChatGPT AI assistant to turn me into a sketchbook character. The illustration was generated by ChatGPT. The self-reflection, however, is entirely mine.

The Prompt

(Upload a picture of yourself)

Please draw the character in the image, "<your name>", in a free and stripped sketch style. On a bright white background, freely distribute full-body drawings, face close-ups, small scribbles, full-body sketches and chibi/deformed versions so that the page conveys the character's humour and personality. Don't do it like an organised character sheet, but like a sketchbook full of information drawn at will by an illustrator and then stacked. Use everything ChatGPT knows about me from our conversations, including my personality, habits, strengths, quirks, profession, and overall vibe, to imagine how an illustrator would interpret me as a character.

The Character AI Thought I Was

The sketch included notes such as:

- Systems thinker who happens to care deeply about people 🤔
- Curious under pressure (definitely not calm all the time) 🧐
- Can turn a simple question into a three-hour research project 🤯
- Little patience for nonsense 😤
- Gets irritated by avoidable inefficiency (workflows, people, systems) 😠
- I may overthink, but I also over-deliver 🤩

ChatGPT didn't pull these observations from a personality quiz. It synthesised them from hundreds of conversations so far, including every random question from me that began with, "I have a question..." Apparently, my AI assistant had been observing and taking notes.

The Parts That ChatGPT Got Inaccurate

Before the version above was finalised, the initial generation wasn't entirely accurate.

The first inaccuracy was that ChatGPT drew me as noticeably slimmer than I actually am. Apparently, even AI is biased: apparently a professional working woman should look tall, lean, and elegant. 🙄 For the record, I'm neither tall nor lean.

Next, ChatGPT described me as "calm under pressure". That made me laugh. Well, I'm not naturally calm.

Ask anyone who has witnessed me dealing with unnecessary bureaucracy, inefficient people, or a process that requires seventeen approvals for something that should take five minutes.

The more accurate description was something we eventually revised together: Curious under pressure. This one felt right.

The Tiny Detail That Felt Most Accurate

Oddly enough, the line that felt most true was this: "I may overthink, but I also over-deliver."

Sometimes I do worry if I ask too many questions or if I analyse things too deeply. Sometimes I disappear down too many rabbit holes. But I guess perhaps that tendency isn't entirely a flaw.

Perhaps it is simply how my brain works: I explore, connect dots, form ideas, and eventually I build something useful from them.

Conclusion

In conclusion, I can now see the core reason behind all my thinking and questions. The older I get, the more convinced I become that systems matter because people matter.

For example, better healthcare systems help patients; better communication helps people understand; better education helps people grow; better technology helps people solve problems.

The systems have always been interesting, but the people have always been the point.

After analysing years of conversations, my AI assistant concluded that I'm a curious person trying to understand how the world works and how things can work better. Honestly, that's a character description I'm quite happy to keep.

My Creative Type (Updated) from Adobe Create Quiz

When I took Adobe's Creative Types quiz in 2022 to discover the power of my creative strengths, my result was The Dreamer.

The Regenerator

This time, I took the same quiz again, and the result was The Regenerator.

Based on the description, my sharp and analytical mind is constantly at work, investigating the world and methodically solving problems. I tend to apply new ways of thinking to old challenges, evolving them from within rather than discarding them entirely.

Setbacks are seen as opportunities for reinvention. Apparently, I like breaking things down, understanding their essential parts, and reassembling them into something stronger. I also bring a sense of resilience and adaptability to every challenge I face.

My creativity is rooted in keen observation. A deep care for the world inspires me to look closely at ideas, systems, and structures to find ways to improve and adapt them. When limitations present themselves, I reinvent. Dismantling and deconstruction become necessary parts of the creative process.

I'm not particularly drawn to flashy disruption or abstract ideals. Instead, I believe in thoughtful restoration and repair. I understand that outdated ways of thinking have contributed to problems, and I'm willing to rebuild from the inside out. I focus on structural integrity and long-term impact.

I also tend to work best in solitude, with ample time for deep focus and reflection.

Zone of genius: Adaptive problem-solving

Deepest aspiration: Overcoming challenges

Growth opportunity: Staying positive and motivated

Creative partner: The Luminary

The full description of "The Regenerator" can be found here.

You can also take Adobe's "Creative Types" quiz if you're curious to discover your own creative strengths.

Why My Dreams Became Medical Dramas

Note: This blog post is written after recounting a series of vivid hospital-themed dreams that stayed with me long after waking up. My AI assistant later helped me explore the strange intersection between healthcare, identity, midlife transitions, and the subconscious. What emerged was unexpectedly thoughtful.

The Strange Psychology of Dreaming About Hospitals

Recently, I had two unusually vivid dreams.

In one dream, I saw my own obituary, except the face on the obituary wasn't mine. Somehow, I was supposed to have died as a terminal patient, but I had apparently "skipped" the obituary and was still alive, travelling, and moving through life.

At one point, I saw a hospital administration placard that mentioned a patient code being recalled because the patient was "no longer in danger". Then someone casually asked me how I was coping because I had "coded twice".

A few weeks later, I had another vivid hospital-related dream. This time, what began as a period somehow became a miscarriage (blood everywhere)! I was in a hospital again, while a specialist looked visibly perplexed, trying to figure out what was wrong.

I now think somewhere between these two dreams, my subconscious has fully absorbed the healthcare ecosystem.

When Your Subconscious Starts Speaking in Medical Language

I have spent years orbiting around healthcare environments, not as a clinician but close enough to absorb their rhythms, language, systems, and emotional atmosphere.

Think hospital corridors, medical terminology, patient journeys, specialist consultations, disease awareness campaigns, and conversations about survival, prevention, treatment, uncertainty, and recovery.

Over time, healthcare stopped feeling like merely an industry I worked around. It became one of the ecosystems through which I understand human life itself.

And perhaps that is why my subconscious now processes emotional transition using hospital logic. This truly feels deeply symbolic and hilariously bureaucratic. LOL.

The Hospital as a Psychological Space

The more I reflected on these dreams, the more I realised hospitals carry symbolic meaning far beyond illness.

Hospitals are transitional spaces. People enter them suspended between "before" and "after". Between uncertainty and diagnosis, sickness and recovery, fear and relief.

Perhaps that is why hospitals appear so frequently in emotionally significant dreams. It's not necessarily because we are afraid of death but because hospitals represent moments where human beings are forced to confront vulnerability and survival beyond our control.

And maybe that is also why neither of my dreams actually felt frightening. Both dreams ended with continuity, i.e., the patient survived, the code was recalled; life continued, and people were checking if I was okay.

So, my dreams were not about endings. They were about recovery.

Midlife Changes the Way You Think About the Body

Perhaps midlife changes the symbolic role the body plays in our subconscious.

As younger adults, many of us unconsciously assume the body will simply cooperate forever.

Then one day, as you age, you start to notice the hormonal shifts, fatigue, the need for health screenings, preventive healthcare, specialists' consultations, and the growing awareness that health is not guaranteed.

Perhaps my dreams are simply reflecting that transition and a growing awareness of the body as something that requires care, interpretation, maintenance, and attention.

Maybe This Is Also What Healing Looks Like

What fascinated me most was not the medical imagery itself, but the emotional tone.

In the dreams, I was calm and almost nostalgic, as though my subconscious was not warning me about something but quietly processing a difficult season I had already survived.

I still do not know exactly what these dreams "mean". Maybe dreams are less prophetic than reflective. Or maybe they simply borrow the emotional vocabulary of the worlds we spend the most time inhabiting.

And perhaps after years spent around hospitals, specialists, patient stories, disease education, and healthcare systems, my subconscious has decided this is now the language it understands best.

Which honestly explains a lot. 😭

Maybe I Was Never Watching Crime Dramas

Note: This post started with me realising that almost all my favourite shows involve traumatised people investigating murders under permanently grey skies. My AI assistant later helped me unpack the psychological patterns behind that oddly specific preference. It's slightly alarming but deeply accurate, though.

Recently, I looked at my Netflix streaming history and realised something mildly concerning about myself. Haha.

Apparently, my idea of "relaxing entertainment" involves emotionally damaged people investigating murders in foggy forests while carrying unresolved childhood trauma. Lol.

As I browsed through the list of TV series genres I enjoy, I realised that I tend to gravitate towards storylines that include some combination of the following:

- psychologically exhausted detectives

- emotionally restrained women

- brilliant but difficult personalities

- haunted families

- isolated towns

- grief disguised as supernatural horror

- intellectually sharp people quietly falling apart

The Shows That Made Me Realise This

The pattern became obvious when I looked at the titles I genuinely loved and remembered amongst the numerous series that I have watched for the past years:

Bones (currently watching)

The Mire (currently watching)

The Graveyard (waiting for Season 3)

The Chestnut Man

The Haunting of Bly Manor

The Haunting of Hill House

The Invisible Guardian

The Legacy of the Bones

Offering to the Storm

Cracow Monsters

House

Well, these titles seem unrelated because some are supernatural horror; some are crime thrillers; some are medical dramas; and some are dark folklore stories. However, emotionally speaking, they all belong to the same universe.

I Realised I'm Drawn to "Wounded Competence"

Almost every protagonist in these stories shares the same emotional structure.

They are usually intelligent, functional, and capable, but they are also deeply unhealed. Many of them appear highly composed, but underneath that competence is grief, loneliness, guilt, emotional isolation, trauma, or some form of unresolved pain that quietly shapes how they move through the world.

I think that is what keeps me watching. Not the murder mystery itself or the plot twists. It is the emotional tension of watching people continue functioning while carrying invisible weight.

The memorable series are those that refuse to simplify human pain. There are no neat emotional resolutions in these series. Trauma is rarely "fixed". Grief does not disappear after one breakthrough conversation. Relationships remain complicated. People make contradictory decisions. Healing is uneven and incomplete.

That feels more emotionally honest to me now than stories where everything becomes meaningful and resolved by the finale.

The Atmosphere Matters More Than the Plot

Another thing I noticed is that I care deeply about emotional atmosphere. The setting itself often feels like a character: cold forests, rainy towns, dim apartments, decaying family homes, muted lighting, and silence that feels emotionally loaded.

A lot of European storytelling especially seems willing to sit in discomfort without rushing to explain everything. There is less emotional spoon-feeding and less urgency to make viewers feel reassured.

And oddly enough, I find that comforting.

Even the Horror Series Are Really About Grief

This became especially obvious with The Haunting of Hill House and The Haunting of Bly Manor. Technically, these two are horror series. But the real horror is never the ghosts.

It is grief, memory, guilt, love, loss, emotional inheritance, and family wounds that follow people into adulthood. The supernatural simply gives emotional pain a physical form.

That is probably why these stories stay with me longer than conventional horror.

Even My K-Drama Choices Are Emotionally About Grief Too

The pattern became even clearer when I looked at the K-dramas I tend to gravitate towards. Yeah, you guessed it right; I don't watch rom-coms. I really don't like 'lovey-dovey-happily-ever-after' stories.

Even when the stories involve monsters, spirits, the afterlife, or supernatural worlds, the emotional core is rarely horror itself.

Instead, many of these series revolve around unresolved pain, regret, memory, emotional liminality, people unable to move on, and grief that quietly follows people through life.

Tomorrow explores despair, emotional rescue, and the invisible struggles people carry before reaching breaking point.

Missing: The Other Side centres around forgotten dead people whose stories remain unfinished, turning grief into something almost physical.

Even Gyeongseong Creature uses monsters and horror to explore survival, fear, cruelty, and what happens to humanity under extreme suffering.

At this point, I had to admit something to myself: apparently even my supernatural dramas are still emotionally about grief.

Apparently I Also Like Emotionally Difficult Geniuses

This explains my attachment to House and Bones. Both series revolve around brilliant people trying to intellectualise emotions they cannot fully process.

One hides behind logic, the other behind cynicism. Both are emotionally awkward in completely different ways. And somehow, that feels more believable than perfectly adjusted television characters with healthy communication skills and excellent emotional regulation.

Maybe I Was Never Watching Crime Dramas

Maybe I was watching stories about emotional survival. Stories about people trying to continue functioning despite grief, trauma, loneliness, obsession, guilt, or emotional exhaustion.

Not because they are heroes. But because life keeps moving whether people are emotionally ready or not.

And perhaps that is why these stories resonate more deeply with me now than simpler narratives ever could.

Not because they are dark. But because they acknowledge something quietly true:

Human beings are complicated, healing is uneven, and some people carry enormous emotional weight without ever making a spectacle of it.