One of the things you’ll notice if you read things written by INFJs (including the comments under web articles and blogs) is how much those four little letters mean to us. There are other Myers-Briggs types who couldn’t care less what label someone else “slaps on them” and certainly make no effort to search out a description of their personality type. They simply don’t see the need (which is, somewhat ironically, usually typical of their personality type).
INFJs are not like that. We’re on a search for what David Keirsey calls “self-actualization” even before we realize it. We know we’re different than most other people (about 99% of other people, in fact), but we don’t know why. Many INFJs grow up thinking there’s something wrong with them, either because they are flat-out told that or because they notice they are so different.
I discovered my personality type through an Internet quiz when I was in high school. These quizzes are not always accurate, but the one I happened to stumble across was close enough to recognize me as an INFJ. Everything I read in those results, and in the INFJ profiles that I hunted down next, sounded so familiar. Suddenly I wasn’t the only person with vivid dreams that seemed to blur lines between real and imaginary, or the only person who felt everything deeply and yet couldn’t seem to connect with someone in a conversation. My helplessness with numbers and difficulty working with facts might be inconvenient, but wasn’t abnormal any more. I didn’t have to try and ignore my intuition or try to come up with a logical reason for everything – I could simply accept the fact that intuition is how my mind works.
Other INFJs have similar stories, stories which I’d love to hear. In fact, I’m interested in any stories you INFJs out there would like to share. I’m writing an e-book, and think it would be so much more meaningful if I could include personal stories from other INFJs as well. If you think you might like to contribute, check out this post for details.