For most people that statement will mean absolutely nothing, for others it will be an abundance of information about WHY I am WHO I am. If you don’t understand anything about the theory concerning personality types you can find out more information here. What’s more, I’m not an expert on all things related to MBTI personalities or even about other INFJs. Honesty compels me to state that I don’t have all the answers about myself either.

Still, stating that I am an INFJ isn’t something I would normally offer up, it wasn’t until recently that I even admitted to my best friend what my type is. It seems really personal on some level, almost a very private affair. However, I have always known that I was not like everyone else and to the best of my knowledge I have never met another INFJ that I know of. Even as a child I knew, I could see, that I was not like either of my parents. My mother still finds it funny just how adamant I was about them not being my parents, that maybe they had adopted me or stolen me from my real parents. Unfortunately, they couldn’t understand that I saw them differently than myself, I was different. I’m not saying it was a good or bad different but a fundamental difference of who they were versus who I was.

Growing up I fit in rather well with the other kids but I knew that while we played together there was always a barrier, a gulf, between them and me. We didn’t see things the same, we didn’t think the same, they were always oblivious to things around them that I noticed and saw and felt. It didn’t take long to understand this when we would talk so I learned to keep that part of me silent. Even as I got older I noticed that those around me had almost a fixed personalities that I didn’t seem to have. They had patterns, for the lack of a better word, like a map of who they were and how they reacted to things or how they thought about things. Meanwhile, I had a fluid personality. I felt as if I were a Chameleon blending in with what, or who, was around me – I was still me but I showed a part of myself that fit best with those around me. I could move nearly seamlessly between different types of groups of people, I could talk and relate to just about anybody while others had a difficult or near impossible time relating to other groups of people. It wasn’t until much later that I heard this blending referred to as mirroring – but it was always me they saw or rather a part of me that was like them.

I also was able to “feel” things or situations. I could feel the way someone was feeling, or when the mood changed in a person or a conversation or even a room. I had always been called “moody” but it was eventually like a sudden realization that this was happening. Afterwards I’d have to question if what I was feeling was me or someone else. I also understood that I could tell when someone needed emotional help and that I could to some degree take their pain or hurt. I understood how to talk with them, to see the problem and help them untie the knot of the issue – usually though not always. However, this only worked when I “mirrored” the person, when they saw themselves in me, it never worked just being myself.

I found that I could help people in small ways, personal ways, invisible ways. acquaintances or strangers it didn’t matter, they all saw me as they saw themselves but none saw me for ME. It didn’t matter. I could not help others if they saw me for who I am, they needed to see me as they saw themselves. They had to fix themselves, I was just a facilitator, I guided them but they needed to do the work, to make the realization, to let go of the hurt at which point I could help take it from them. When I say it, or type it, it sounds crazy but it’s been my life. I’ve sat with complete strangers who have suffered silently from guilt or loss. I have urged many to love themselves (something I have always struggled with), to forgive themselves for problems great and small alike. Sometimes, it just seeing someone and knowing, and I mean knowing, they need someone to see them and acknowledge them, to ask how they are doing or tell them something my heart bids me say.

I am no one special. I have no walls to hide who I am only mirrors. I am silent most of the time because I realize it’s really not about me, it’s about you. Truly, I mean you. We are all connected regardless if you believe it or not. None of us are truly alone though we often feel like it and mourn the sensation of it, but we are not. Sometimes not being seen gets the better of me despite knowing I am connected to so many people. I throw myself a little pity party but I remind myself I could always let people see me if I drop my mirrors but then I wouldn’t be able to do what I do for those who need me and don’t know it.

I am an INFJ.

Cheers