With elaborate minds and a struggle to communicate their deepest feelings,
the INFJ isn’t the easiest personality type to describe.
Only INFJs truly know themselves well enough to understand another person with the same
personality type - and so today, we’re going to be unravelling the INFJ using deep self-analysis
explanations from a tried and true INFJ Blog called the “INFJ Unraveled by Wendy Neeld”
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Let’s dive right into the video starting with: Memo # 1: “The Things I Hold Dearest”
My silences tell you more about what is important to me than my words. I love
many things. I am passionate about a variety of topics. But the things that are most dear to me,
the things that are too valuable, placed on the altar of my inner cathedral of identity
and order. Those things are not ones I often talk about - they are far too precious.
INFJs crave connection. We want nothing more than to find common ground, to dive into the depths of
an idea or a dream with someone who understands our need to explore the deep rather than skimming
the surface. We tire quickly of the day to day sensory conversations that permeate our world.
Statistics tell us that over 75% of Americans identify as Sensors, and while we appreciate them,
they exhaust us as much as we confuse and tire them. We want something deep and profound,
something that makes us feel we are not alone. Yet even in those moments, there are some things
that are too precious to share, too hard to explain and defend.
Those are the things about which we are silent. Memo # 2: “Putting Out The Fleece”
We don’t trust easily. We don’t trust easily at all. No matter where you grew up or what
your family was like, you wanted it to be perfect, the way you felt it should be; the way
you saw it in your head. It never was. And every time you dreamed up perfection
and lived through disappointment, the sorrow wove a dark crease through the
next dream. You never lost hope. We never do… …but you lost trust in the people around you.
INFJs are often called “walking contradictions,” idealists with the core of a cynic, counselors and
empaths with a dark streak of potential cruelty. And it’s true. But the source of that dichotomy
comes from the glory of our internal world coming into contact with the sad inadequacy of
the external one. It’s like putting a hot glass into ice water - the opposites tear each other
apart. Yet hope is an inherent part of the INFJ. We are people drawn toward the future, oriented
toward a holistic view of the world, it’s in our nature. We want people to care about each other,
to be as considerate as we try to be. We want people to notice each other’s needs and
care for one another. And we want people to notice our needs and care.
But they usually don’t. We know that. So we learn not to trust and we begin testing.
We disappear - to see if anyone notices our absence. We don’t eat - to see if anyone notices
and takes care of us. We stop talking - just to see if anyone was listening. It’s not a
healthy behavior; testing the people who say they care about you isn’t nice or necessarily wise.
But we do it. When we test the people around us, we’re calling out into the void, pulling on
the threads that bind us to one another. We’re asking whether we really matter - who we are,
not just what we do for you. We are asking you to affirm our value in your life by noticing us,
by Seeing us, even when we do not openly ask you to. Fail to see us, fail the test,
and we will step back, knowing that while we may love you, you are likely to disappoint us.
Memo # 3: “Finding Harmony”
It is the dissonance that hurts us. As INFJs we come into this world with a sense of how
things should be, an innate knowledge of how an encounter or a moment should play out.
Our inner world is rich and nuanced; it vibrates with a music that moves us and
lets our imagination dance through wonders. But reality does not move
to that same rhythm. It does not operate on how things should be; it operates on how they are.
For an INFJ, it is the difference between the inner and outer world, the constant dissonance
between the music of our soul and the chords of reality that hurts us and makes us feel like
aliens lost in a world that has no place for us. I cannot remember a time when I did not feel
that disconnect. My earliest memories are of the desperate longing to be in the company of others,
to find the special connection I had read about in books, to find the deep bond I
longed for and imagined made real. But the actuality was nothing like what I had dreamed
of. I found myself far more comfortable with imaginary friends than with other children.
But there are those moments. Those precious moments when the internal world and the
external one are in harmony. When it should be is the way that it is. Those moments lie
scattered across our lives like priceless gems, moments that give us a sense of peace and harmony
beyond the power of words. As we grow older, as we understand ourselves better, we learn to recognize
those moments and to lose ourselves in their precious harmony. It is only in those breaths of
wonder that we truly feel a part of this strange world and genuinely feel that we are understood.
Memo # 4: “The Small”
Sometimes, I ask myself…”is there value in the little things?” Around me, the world
clamors for the epic, the moment of saving the world, the bigger explosion, the master scheme,
and I find myself at a loss. I dance in the moonlight, bathe in the song of a small brown
wren, find joy in an hour of conversation. Am I then so boring, so insignificant?
As an INFJ, I see the needs of those around me in a way that I cannot ignore. They tug
at the edges of my vision, the edges of my heart, the seams of my soul. I see them,
and I know that I can meet those needs, so I do. And with every motion, I hope and pray
that someone will see me, someone will find beauty in that service, someone will think of me
as the beam of moonlight. But those hopes and prayers often whisper away in the breeze.
I am rarely grand and epic. I see the greater picture, but I see it as a web of needs,
of beautiful individuals mired in need and pain. I am overwhelmed with so much, so I begin to meet
the needs of those around me, those I can. It is not epic; it is small and simple. But I dream that
there is beauty in it nonetheless. Number 5: “Inner Landscapes”
It is only in time alone that an INFJ can remember who they are. In the normal bustle
of life there are thousands of us, shattered pieces of a mirror, each reflecting a slightly
different image in someone’s eyes. We are parents, friends, mentors, customers,
and unlike other types, each one of those roles is an instant identity, a full-fledged person
of a moment. Sometimes, we get lost in the myriad of people we feel required to be in our lives. We
lose track of who we are because we are too busy being who everyone else needs. It’s instinctive.
We do it without thought. And it leaves us feeling broken, hollow, alone, and strangely undefined.
Only in the silence, when we are allowed to explore our rich inner landscapes, can we truly
remember who we are, not who others expect us to be. We lose ourselves in the cacophony
of expectations and needs, but we are never gone. Perhaps the hardest thing is to preserve
the time to find ourselves, to stretch out in silence and remember, without guilt, who we are
and what things make us feel alive, only to be called back to who we are supposed to be.
Well, that wraps up today’s video, psych-os. Did you relate to these deep words
of INFJ wisdom? Let us know in the comments below! Don’t forget to leave us a like,
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