So, I’m an INFP. A sensitive snowflake, an idealist. Well, at least as determined by a loosely administered personality test at a work retreat. I’ve known it all along but now the test “proves” it. According to the link, Mr. Rogers was an INFP so I’m in good company.
We had some laughs, me and those at the opposite end of the spectrum. Those extroverted, tough ones. Saying things like, “Well, that explains every conversation we’ve ever had.”
Some were surprised to learn that I’m an introvert and crave alone time, time to ruminate and worry, and fret about a tiny thing or a big thing. I told them I’ve learned to be extroverted in the work world which at times covers up my introversion. But don’t we all (introverts and extroverts) adapt to circumstances so we can survive, contribute, and more?
Although I very much enjoy people, public interaction quickly drains my battery. At the end of intense people days or work travel weeks with others, I want to withdraw and be alone and recharge in my home with only my family and dog.
The danger is going overboard and withdrawing too much from people-centric activities. For example, as I’ve gently dipped my toes back into the community of church, I’ve realized how much I missed the human connection outside work.
To jump back in to anything with both feet risks overwhelming my snowflake senses. Finding balance is key, which is of course life’s ongoing challenge with everything from spiritual to physical to mental.
I like people, truly. But I embrace and acknowledge my INFP status and know that I need much alone time. Perhaps David the psalmist said it best:
“God, my shepherd!
I don’t need a thing.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
you find me quiet pools to drink from.
True to your word,
you let me catch my breath
and send me in the right direction.”
Psalm 23: 1-3 (The Message)