Life and the INFJ Mind.

I came across a reference in a Google search today to some place in America which has a club for introverts – ‘to help them find a social circle.’ Putting aside the whiff of a suspicion that there is something inherently absurd about introverts searching for a social circle, I imagined myself walking into the meeting room of a club for INFJs.

The sudden sense of panic quite surprised me. It felt claustrophobic (we INFJs are no strangers to experiencing real emotions in imagined situations because the inside of our own heads is where we spend most of our time. Ergo, it’s our natural environment and therefore the most real.)

So why claustrophobic? Well, because you’d be contained in a situation where you couldn’t get away from yourself, and that would be not so very different from being shut in a tiny cell without sufficient space to have a good stretch or jump up and down. And what about the tedium? Being in a room with a load of other people who all think the way you do would be like having roast beef, potatoes and carrots for dinner every night. Worse than that even, it might lead to the growing conviction that you’re not human at all, but a mindless robot learning to intone ‘resistance is useless’ in concert with fifty other JJBMk7 models at the touch of a button. And since the other occupants of the room would also be INFJs, how long would it be before we’d all collapse in unison and froth at the mouth before being swept up and dumped in a wheelie bin, there to live out our miserable days with no hope of escape.

The nightmare scenario didn’t last long. I made a hurried withdrawal and focussed instead on something else I read about the INFJ. It said that the union of an INFJ male and an ENTP female is ‘a match made in heaven.’ Cue to go and find the nearest club for ENTP females where I engaged my famed INFJ observational skills in determining which of the gathered multitude had the most pleasing legs. (Legs matter a lot to me, you understand, even at my age when it’s no longer relevant. Maybe it’s an INFJ thing. How would I know?) Having made my choice, I felt very much better.

And by the way, yesterday the first two lines of a new ditty dropped into my head. That’s a very rare event in these debilitating times. Unfortunately, as earnestly as I searched I couldn’t find a pair to match them. And now I’ve forgotten the first two. That’s how life is these days.