I’m an INFJ. I’m thinking that the reason I seem so confusing to myself is because I’m unlike so many other “categories” of the population that I’ve read about. Many of the books I’m reading right now read like the author can “peg” me under a lable that will magically clear my thinking and get me on the “right course.” It’s not working.
Maybe I can get my hands on an “abuse book” written by and for an INFJ. That would be so much easier than figuring it out myself (although not nearly as satisfying).
I’m in a better mood after cleaning up around the house, making a “Free Kittens” sign (because I actually HAVE free kittens not because it sounded like a fun thing to do), and talking with my boys about nothing for a while.
It’s amazing how “getting out of myself” can regenerate and rejuvenate me. Now if Mother Nature would drop the monthly load on me, I think the rest of my depressed mood would disappear.