How knowing your personality type can calm the noise in your head and help you live in the moment

For a majority of my life, I’ve had this recurring nightmare. I walk into a conference room with enough tables and chairs to seat two hundred. People are sitting at the tables, talking in groups or milling around the coffee table. I search for an empty table and quickly take a seat. I pull out my phone and begin scrolling, waiting for the presentation to start. I pretend to look busy while avoiding eye contact with those near me. I sigh in relief when the presentation begins and finally relax into my seat. The nightmare ends. Truthfully, it wasn’t a nightmare, it was the way I entered every social situation with strangers.

I’m an INFJ. The most common characteristics of my personality type are the need for harmony, constantly gauging the mood of the people around me, planning or rehashing conversations and avoiding any occasion that involved strangers, especially if I had to talk to them. For years, I felt there was something wrong with me. I would mentally berate myself for not being more outgoing, interesting enough or for being unable to come up with the “right” thing to say. This meant my brain was constantly in a stage of heightened flight or fight. What I didn’t know was that those things that made me feel different were actually characteristics of my personality types.

My “differentness” began in middle school where it first became apparent that I didn’t fit in. Attempts at friendships fell flat. A yearning to be part of what I perceived to be the “in” crowd. Moments of colossal embarrassment that I still feel to this day. And above all else, I thought I was alone. No one felt the way I did. My peers were funny, outgoing and didn’t want to be seen with a loser like me. What I didn’t understand was, I was an introvert.

Armed with these thoughts and feelings, I entered adulthood with a distorted view of myself. This was “before” I understood what it means to be INFJ. I saw my need for harmony as a weakness. People would say things at parties or work and even though I disagreed, I’d say nothing. In fact, my husband and I have hardly ever argued (I think he’s an INFJ, too, but good luck trying to get him to take the test). I wanted harmony more than I wanted to challenge a point of view or causing discord.

Like typical INFJ’s, I loved to rehash conversations or plan what I’d say if the opportunity presented itself again. “Next time, I’m going to say” or “I should have said” were frequently used phrases. I’d also rehearse upcoming conversations with my boss or husband. Heck, I’ve even planned what I was going say to the dentist.

INFJ’s are keen observers. Put me in a room full of people and I can immediately pick up on the couple that had a fight before they arrived or pick out the pained smiles of those listening to the same story over and over again. I not only recognize those emotions, but internalize them, so even if I was comfortable, the emotions in the room can leave me feeling exhausted.

As I illustrated in the scenario above, I have an adverse dislike of large crowds and strangers.

Depending on the situation, I can be riddled with anxiety, sweating, sick to my stomach and completely out of the moment. I focused so hard on what was happening around me and how to cope with it, that I get little or no enjoyment from it.

Even with a rudimentary understanding of my personality type, it wasn’t until I read Jenn Granneman’s article “10 Secrets of the INFJ’s” that everything changed for me. I no longer perceive myself as being “different”, instead I’ve chosen to embrace those qualities about myself and learned to accept them. Now, I live in the moment with contentment and peace.

I’m able to disagree without the world ending. I’m able to express my viewpoints and realize that it’s okay to disagree without fear of hurting someone’s feelings.

Rehashing conversations and planning future ones is the hardest one to break, especially at night, right before going to sleep, I still find my mind being drawn into this habit. But now, I recognize it and tell myself “that’s an old story” and it breaks the thought loop.

I still gauge the mood of the room, but I don’t let others drain me emotionally. I remind myself that I’m not in charge of their happiness. I can be concerned about how they are feeling, but I don’t need to fix it.

And strangers? I still don’t initiate a lot of conversations, but I’m also not in fight or flight mode in a crowd either. Which I’m sure was the vibe that I used to give off. Now, I’m relaxed, confident and focussed on the moment. Not sitting with every sense on high alert, worrying about if the person next to me is going to talk or should I talk first? And what do I say? Going through a number of responses and rejecting them all. While listening to all the chatter in my head, I’ve missed whatever is going on.

I encourage you to learn the characteristics of your personality type and take some time to be self-aware of how they show up in your life. They aren’t something that you need to fix or “bad”. They just are. And that’s okay. Accept them and you’ll find that when you’re brain is quiet, you’re living in the moment.