I know I haven’t really written any long-form pieces on here in a while as my moody so-called “poetry” has been taking up the pages of this blog, but today I have a little something different to share.
After years of feeling like the black sheep of the world, I finally discovered some staggering yet unbelievably comforting facts about myself through a lovely site called, Introvert, Dear. While I’ve always known that I’m a highly-sensitive introvert, the articles provided on Introvert, Dear were of utmost importance to me as I try to navigate my prospering career in music journalism along with life in general as a 27 year-old woman in a city that can break you down in an instant if you’re not strong-minded enough. This lovely site, run by Jenn Granneman, gives insight into what it’s like to be an introvert while showcasing each personality type beautifully in a way that helps readers not feel so alone – something the outside world often takes a large responsibility in.
With the help of this personality test, I recently discovered that I am an INFJ personality type. What the hell is that, you ask? Well, it’s a type of introvert personality – INFJ being an initialism of introversion, intuition, feeling, judging – used in the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) to refer to one of the sixteen personality types. The INFJ personality type is very rare, which explains a lot – my constant discomfort in the world around me, feeling alone in most situations, feeling like my morality is the devil in a morally bankrupt society, depending on my intuition, etc. By finally discovering this, I not only have a better sense of who I am but a better understanding of how I process things versus what I’ve always been told my entire life:
“There is something seriously wrong with you.”
Most introverts aren’t one for small talk or socializing. For me, it usually depends on the company. I prefer to stick to a very small group of like-minded individuals who I don’t have to explain myself to – which, make no mistake, isn’t easy to come by. It’s hard to find others who value the same things I do and who honor their morals with the utmost respect. There are those who make you feel safe; the ones you just click with, while others make you want to run into a hole and avoid them forever. After spending years of feeling misunderstood (which doesn’t magically disappear after you discover your personality type in an online test, by the way) I now have something that justifies everything that I couldn’t put into words for so long. It’s amazing how just one tiny tidbit of information can open up new doors. I even feel so liberated as to tell every single person who has ever made me feel like I’m boring or too intense to shove it where the sun don’t shine.
In the dark corners of my mind, I have a long list of things that are wrong with me; the damaged parts that have crept into the little crevices when everyone is looking – the things that others told me I needed to stop being in order to be normal or to fit into their perfect little lives. I’ve lived with these little demon fuckers ever since I started dealing with people in the sandbox as a little kid. As much as you try to wash them away, they remain inside and the more you try to not dwell on them, the more they reappear the second someone you once believed in starts to show you their true colors. It’s difficult for others, or in this case – extroverts, to understand that having alone time is what fuels introverts. Criticizing us for how we operate won’t earn you brownie points nor will it make us want to socialize with you.
When I look at others, I see everything I can’t be. That can either ruin a person or free them. In my case, it’s a little bit of both. Because I can’t be that wild, carefree girl guys want. I can’t be the friend who you can call up at any time and get drunk with. I can’t be the girl who goes to bars and clubs at night, looking for a (lousy, and let’s be honest, temporary) significant other. I can’t be the one who thrives off of attention at parties and I can’t be expected to survive large crowds. I can’t listen to their criticism of why I don’t want to hang out with them because people drain my energy. I can’t be expected to sit back and be told that I am wrong for any of this anymore. I just can’t.
Discovering that I am an INFJ has allowed me to educate those around me of who I am without sinking into a hole of defeat once they beat me down. If any of you reading this right now know the feeling, I urge you to take this test – not to shove the results in people’s faces while telling them to get off your back (I mean, you could!) but to have a better understanding of yourself while feeling that incredible wave of relief that who you are is incredibly valuable to our society, not the opposite, as we’ve all been told. This might remind you of the ending of Insurgent – the sequel to Veronica Roth’s Divergent. While Tris was told she was a nuisance to her society, she later discovers that she is crucial to her society’s well-being and the answer to everything the factions need.
So I’m an INFJ. Now what? I’m not entirely sure, but it’s freeing to know that, INFJ or not, there is nothing wrong with me. I am me and while I don’t need a name to categorize myself, I’m happy that for once in my life, something actually makes sense. As for the rest of the insensitive souls of the world – pardon my sass, but we don’t need a quiz to know that there are sticks lodged up their asses as it is pretty evident that assholes will be assholes no matter what we tell them. 😛
“Excuse me if I seem a little unimpressed with this
An anti-social pessimist but usually I don’t mess with this”