There were two instances in my life when my jaw dropped as I read something online.
The first was when I chanced upon The Necessary Teacher Training College in Denmark while I was a graduate student at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. It was a totally wacky four-year program, the highlight of which was a four-month bus drive from Denmark to India and back. I will tell that crazy story another time.
The second instance was when I came across the MBTI personality testing page and discovered that I was INFJ. As I read the description of that personality type, I was shell-shocked to find such an accurate description of me, better than what I would have written myself.
As the shock gave way to tears (oh yes I cry a lot), I found it hard to believe there were a whole lot of people out there with quirks and struggles that I thought were uniquely mine.
For many years, I had tried to explain to my then-wife that large gatherings sapped me of energy and that I needed one-on-one conversations to thrive. Yet, the former was thrust upon me and the latter was denied to me, and this became one of the points of contention in our marriage that eventually led to our separation.
When I found on this webpage a description of my struggle, I could show it to her and say, “Hey, this is what I have been trying to tell you, and there are others like me who experience this too.”
I found validation for who I was (if such a thing is ever needed)! Many of the things I gravitated to intuitively made sense now. While earlier I had internalized that something was wrong with me for feeling or thinking a particular way, this discovery helped me reframe and then reclaim my sense of self.
Also, discovering her personality type (ESTJ) helped explain a lot of the difficulties we were having in our communication and decision making.
But this piece is not about my marriage. It is about me. Being INFJ.
I have more than a hundred bookmarks related to the INFJ personality type. I have read and re-read many of these articles, and some books as well. I suppose that should make me an expert on the subject. There is only one way to test that: explain what I have internalized and see how clear it is. Ha!
The greatest benefit of discovering my personality type was that I found a framework with which to understand myself (and to some extent others), and a language to describe my inner world. Having grown up with Krishnamurti’s teachings, I had developed a (healthy?) suspicion for frameworks that attempt to explain who we are. Labels tend to be very limiting and I resisted anything that involved categorising people.
[Aside: When I was teaching at a prestigious journalism college, one of my colleagues introduced me to a visitor as “the in-house techie” as I was in charge of the computer systems in the college. I was not a techie even in the best sense of the word (and I know she didn’t mean it that way), so I responded, “I don’t think I am a techie”. To which she shot back: “So are you an intellectual then?” Taken aback by the put down and the polarization of attributes, I asked her, “Why do I have to be one or the other?” to which her response was, “If I don’t know which category you belong to, how can I relate to you?”]
Yet, here was a framework that made sense to me and I took to it immediately. Despite its categorization of people, this framework helped me understand my inclinations and behaviours, and I wanted to learn more.
There are two ways to understand the INFJ personality type, both related but somewhat distinct. The first is through the four letters – I, N, F and J. While this is usually the more popular way to understand one’s type, focusing on the letters and their unique combination can make one’s personality seem like a static, fixed quality. [Hence, the resistance to the framework.]
The second approach is through what is called the function stack, an ordering of the “functions” that define how we perceive the world, make sense of it, and take decisions. An understanding of these functions, how they work in combination, and how they can be strengthened brings a more dynamic quality to personality typing. This approach is more aligned to the idea that all human beings can grow [towards individuation], and I have found this to be more empowering.
There are other websites that explain these concepts in great detail so I am not going to deal with that here. Instead, I want to write about how this framework has thrown light on that which I have grasped intuitively but have struggled to explain. I also want to talk about one of the most insightful books I have read on the subject of INFJ, titled Beyond Rare.
For as long as I can remember, I have listened to my gut when making decisions. They have often taken me down roads less traveled. Many of them have been tough choices, but I own them. I know when my decision is internally aligned, and when it is not. This compass is sharp and well-honed; and the few times I have acted against its urgings, I have come to regret those decisions.
This instinctive process made more sense to me once I understood the role of the dominant Ni (Introverted Intuition) function, which is constantly trying to put together pieces of a jigaw, to be able to see the big picture and create meaning. And when things fall into place, then I know it is time to act. This picture however is available only to me, and it is extermely difficult (and tedious) to explain to another how I came to the conclusion that I did. Often I end up giving different reasons to different people based on what I think might make most sense to them. While this might seem dishonest, it really is not. It is a natural consequence of trying to communicate what ultimately cannot be expressed in words, where one approximation is as good as another.
It is really hard to find people who “get” you, and whenever I have found those few who do, I have tried to hold on to them, but unfortunately I have not always been successful!
Despite the challenges of authentic communication, the written word has been my dear friend for the longest of time. I discovered the magic of writing through letters. My father introduced me to letter-writing, and nurtured it during my years at Rishi Valley School.
Having sensed that home was not a happy place for me, he enrolled me into a residential school, a place that I would come to see as my home away from home. My four years at Rishi Valley were my happiest, and I have struggled in later years to find the sense of safety I experienced there.
[Aside: It has taken me many years to recognize the primacy of safety in all my relationships. Where this element is missing, I struggle.]
For those four years, and beyond, my father wrote letters to me every weekend. Blue inland letters. He wrote every week, without fail. Sometimes twice, if there was news.
In turn, I too began to write letters every week, and I discovered that I could ‘talk’ through them in a way that I couldn’t do in person. Somehow it was possible to express myself more freely, clearly, and easily through writing.
I discovered I could now say what I felt, and I would write of things that I didn’t realise I had been mulling over at the back of my mind. This was in contrast to how I would struggle when asked in person what I felt or thought about a particular matter. It would take time to cast around my mind, and I would find there were so many interlocking threads, all relevant and useful, that I would just freeze up. By the time I framed a response, the other person would have moved on. How I wish I had been able to say this instead:
You must understand, young Hobbit, it takes a long time to say anything in Old Entish. And we never say anything unless it is worth taking a long time to say.
JRR Tolkien, The Two Towers
Looking at this process from the perspective of the INFJ function stack, it makes complete sense: Ni (Introverted Intuition) finds its expression through Fe (Extraverted Feeling), and it takes time and space to make sense of the workings of Ni. Without expression, Ni remains nebulous and unfulfilled. So writing is a natural ally of Ni-Fe.
Strangely, one-on-one conversations work brilliantly too! But that should not be too surprising because strangeness is the norm when it comes to Ni-Fe. Such conversations tend be long, deep and winding, punctuated with companionable silence.
When Fe is repressed, all hell breaks loose for an INFJ, as I discovered during my Dark Dark Days. One way to claw back to sanity is to use Fe. Or find love. Same thing, really.
During the summer holidays when I returned home from school, I would witness constant conflict between my parents and often had to be their peacemaker. They had long ago stopped talking directly to each other, and I was used as a messenger between them.
My parents, separately, found in me a good listener who would uncomplainingly absorb their complaints about each other. It was common for my father to sit with me on the terrace and talk to me about my mother for hours at a stretch. I have no memory of what he said but I remember feeling overwhelmed, helpless and anxious. We would do this for days, and then years.
From my mother, the words were more scathing. Gosh, she could be so skillful at using hurtful words with unerring accuracy to find their mark and cause maximum damage. They would make me cringe and withdraw.
[I have often wondered which of the two approaches impacted me more. I still can’t decide but they both took something vital away from me.]
When they were together, I had the role of a mediator, to help each of them see the other’s point of view, both of which were so blindingly obvious to me. I kept at this for years in the hope that what I did would help their relationship. I thought, “I can fix this.”
To anyone else, from the outside, it was probably obvious that it was such a lost cause, yet I kept at it until the age of 25 when it finally broke for me and I could not do this anymore with either of them. But with that I also decided to hide away my strengths so they would not bring me more pain.
Anyone familiar with the INFJ personality can see the obvious patterns at play here: wanting harmony above all else, being counselor/mediator/peacemaker, seeing multiple points of view, listening empathetically, absorbing others’ emotions, and difficulty identifying (let alone articulating) one’s own needs.
It was as if some of the best qualities of my personality had been turned against me, and with that the seeds of self-doubt, self-sacrifice and self-loathing had been sown.
In the middle of this maelstorm which swirled hot and furious sometimes, and cold and biting at others, writing letters to friends (and receiving replies) was a welcome break, indeed it was a lifeline. During these troubling holidays I found that I could use letters to connect to others in deep and meaningful ways.
Letter-writing became an art form for me. It was something I did with joy and anticipation. I could easily write long letters of several pages, interspersing narratives of what was happening around me with questions that were bothering me and my thoughts on books that I was reading. This was a first glimpse of what I then did not realize was really a gift or a talent.
Sadly, with the advent of email, friends stopped writing letters, and I lost a great way for me to connect with people. I have had to find newer ways to build and sustain friendships, and I am still learning how to do that.
[PAUSE]
Gosh! There is so much more to say, and some of it is painful. I don’t know if I can go there now. Perhaps I should pause and come back to this another time, if at all.
I realize I have not written a word about the book Beyond Rare. I will have to do that separately.
This is an abrupt end but I can’t help it.
As I have written this piece, I see that discovering INFJ has helped me be kinder to myself, understand the struggles of the boy that I was, and start owning my strengths. For that, I am deeply grateful.
The very act of writing this blog is a step forward for me. Some of the words may sound bleak but I am discovering strength by shining light on that which has been dark. Just because I write about times of great difficulty does not mean I am a sad person. Far from it. I am actually in a very good space.
I take inspiration from Van Gogh’s words:
Art is to console those who are broken by life.
During times of difficulty, writing has been my ally, largely through my journal. Though I found it impossible to write during the Dark Dark Days, I am delighted that I am writing again as I have discovered new strength to move forward. I find consolation in my own writing, and I hope these words help you find solace too, if that is what you need at this time in your life.
Remember you are always just one conversation away from finding strength, purpose or love.
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