There is more to me than meets the eye. Several months ago, I decided to take a Meyers-Briggs personality test and discovered that I was an INFJ. As a skeptic, I read the results while inwardly thinking that this was likely some gimmick intended to provide unnecessary labels. However, as I continued reading the strengths, weaknesses, and various characteristics, I became almost uncomfortably aware that each hit entirely too close to home.
INFJs are extremely self-aware, and there was a resonating and liberating feeling in knowing that my oddities were normal, at least for me. I overanalyze everything. I enjoy interaction with others, but on my own terms and with recovery in isolation needed afterward. All this introspection and self-awareness creates caverns and tunnels invisible to others, leading to a diverse range of emotions daily. While others may see a subdued introvert, it is quite possible that we (INFJs) feel like a starship captain taking charge. Conversely, friends may see a content and stable person coming apart at the seams internally.
Yes, I’m a paradox of a man. Easygoing, yet riddled with anxiety. Portraying strength and composure amid weakness and inner turmoil. I crave depth and substance while struggling with vanity. Most people will never get a glimpse inside my comedy, tragedy, or the points in between, but the few who do may be shocked, offended, and delighted all at once. I’m a philosopher at heart and a sucker for a good turn of phrase. I desire so deeply to be understood but let so few close enough to see who I am.
The aphorism “know thyself” may seem simple, but it is nonetheless profound. Knowing myself comes easily to me. It’s letting others know me that proves difficult. My introversion is just a cloaking device for my extroversion. It allows me to go undetected and emerge when I’m ready to make first contact. And so if you can see me in my invisibility, chances are you’re invisible too.