I have almost invariably found that the very feeling which has seemed to me most private, most personal, and hence most incomprehensible by others, has turned out to be an expression for which there is a resonance in many other people. It has led me to believe that what is most personal and unique in each one of us is probably the very element which would, if it were shared or expressed, speak most deeply to others. -Carl Rogers
All INFJs are built to work in the world like this. They are driven by self-improvement because it leads them toward the utopia that lives in all INFJ brains.
My relentlessness in taking myself to the mat resonates with people because I take no prisoners. I will cut myself, over and over until I’m bleeding…… because if I don’t feel anything, you won’t, either. If I am an emotionless robot, that will be my writing voice, too. I get out of it what I put in, and art imitates life just as easily as it does the other way around…… because my art might not change you……… but the writing down of the world around me in my own voice so that I can look back on my memories differently than almost a hundred percent of the world? Priceless.
It’s more valuable than anything I’d make from this site, which is good, ’cause I don’t make much. I have a PayPal button where you can donate if you wish, but there’s no subscription fee or charge to look at the back catalog, etc. I don’t have a big enough audience to make that a sustainable reality. Being talented and being well-known are two very different things. Deserving money for art is valid. Having enough patrons to make it a reality is difficult, especially when few people know who you are (relative to Wil Wheaton, Dooce, and The Bloggess, my contemporaries). The reason I’ve specifically started saying things over again that readers who keep up with me would know is that I’ve had a huge influx of new readers.
So, I remember to say things like Zac is private intelligence during the week and Navy intelligence in the Reserves. That Lindsay works in Washington but lives in Houston. That Bryn lives in Oregon. That my family still lives in Texas. That Supergrover is, essentially, my castle on a cloud…. but in our story the last chord is definitively major.
To people who read every day, my writing isn’t all that confusing because they have context. For people who drop in and out, they don’t know the cast.
It’s great to have new readers, sometimes hard to gauge how much I need to back up because I do have a stunning amount of reader retention because I notice the same user ids popping up. For instance, purpleraysblog has come up for a solid nine or 10 years. They’ve been with me since the beginning. And they’re not the only one. I love OG fans, especially the ones who’ve been with me since “Clever Title.” They quote me to me, often in order to make fun of me…… it is both frightening and hilarious how much they remember of what they’ve read.
Like, I just write the blog. I don’t actually read it. Psh. Kidding. I remember a lot of what I write/read here, but not everything. So, when people quote me to me I’m often caught off guard….. because the way they quote me to me is not to tell me it’s me until the end for dramatic effect. So, the words sound familiar and I’m scrambling to figure out where I read what they’re saying because I know I’ve read it before……… and have never once assumed that anyone would quote me for anything, Jumping to the conclusion that I didn’t read it, I wrote it is just too arrogant.
Therefore, I am often surprised at how much I’ve learned, because I think I’m a wonderful writer when I don’t know it’s me.
If I had to choose one word that describes me, it’s chaotic. I can’t control my feelings, my attention, or my outward emotions. It’s all on display, all the time. If I’m hurt about something, you’ll see it written all over my face because I wear my heart on my sleeve, always. It gets beaten up that way, but stronger for the long haul because scar tissue is a beautiful thing. It makes what was once weak strong again. All of the sudden, your heart has more tensile strength than it did previously, and you can handle bigger emotions without exploding emotional landmines.
It’s a hard thing to explain to people, handling large emotions. Most people just want me to be less. I encourage them to take a right and surround myself with people who think I’m amazing no matter what. And not in the way that says “praise me.” In the way that says “even when I have to kick your ass, you’re the love of my life.” Believe me when I say that’s a two way street, and I’ll always allow it, especially if you throw in jokes to release the pressure valve of being really, really uncomfortable.
Some people are better at being uncomfortable than others. I am actually pretty good about it, but there are caveats. Make everything clear, especially if you don’t have a timeframe for our next interaction. Ask for what you want, and don’t make me divine it. A guessing game pushes me away faster than anything else, because I don’t have the mental capacity to work in grey area 100% of the time, and shouldn’t have to do it at all when it comes to friends’ needs. My partner as well, I just don’t currently have one. I have ended a lot of romantic relationships due to the same problem. Yes, I can prepare for what you’re going to need later, but only up and to a point. Grow with me, not against me.
I can sit in cognitive dissonance for years on end if people let me know when we’re going to work on resolving it. I walk away when there’s an unwillingness to figure it out…. even when all of the nastiness is familiar and none was ever meant.
Unless someone hits a trigger, and then I will go scorched earth because I have to. It hits several things at once. Making me mad enough to walk away because I couldn’t do it otherwise. Realizing that there are very few people who actually listen to me the first time and don’t second guess what I’m saying, so keep those friends close and the other ones can take a right. In my haste to protect myself, I piss people off. It’s my superpower, apparently. The J part of INFJ is judgment, the opposite of perception. I call ’em like I see ’em. Sometimes I’m right, sometimes I’m wrong. I pay those taxes all day, every day. What I don’t do is let people walk all over me, because they have forever and I’m done.
Being a preacher’s kid was amazing and a rough gig. I don’t want to live in a fishbowl. I don’t want to care what other people think of me. I don’t want to dress appropriately, whatever that means. I don’t want to wear make-up because “it always looks like you don’t feel good.” And for the love of God, I do not have false eyelashes, especially when I was in seventh grade. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, thank God you were there. Jesus has always had my back. We’re basically the same person. If you don’t think I would go after tax collectors with a whip, apparently you have not seen me in mad sprite mode. I have this image in my head of my anger reflex going off and having someone pick me up, put me on a shelf, and walk away.
“Angry sprite mode” will burn the whole world down, and has stopped caring. This is because it means something to me when someone hits a trigger if they’ve been warned over and over where it is. I would never do it to someone I’d just met, but if we’ve known each other since my original hair color, you probably know where all my landmines are. When you intentionally step on one when you’re in combat mode, I will end you. Just not physically. It’s much worse than that. You’ll hear me in your head forever, because my trauma reflex is a very good writer. It remembers what buttons to push so that if you hit mine, turnabout is fair play.
Rarely do I go off anymore, which makes the swings even bigger. It’s not that I mean more harm. It’s that I care so much less. Either you’re important enough to me to fight until we’re through the worst of it, or you’re not. You’re important enough to me to hash it out, or you’re not. If you don’t feel the same way about me, that’s fine. Just don’t expect me to be happy about it. I rarely leave room for grace because so few people are that precious to me. It’s seriously the most Jesus part about me, because he was so human. As I have said before, “we were never meant to be Jesus. Jesus was meant to be us.” And by that I mean that Jesus loved his friends with an intensity that’s unusual (he’s an INFJ. He gets it.), but it didn’t mean that he didn’t kick ass when he thought people deserved it. Jesus’s righteous anger doesn’t make me feel good about mine. It makes me feel more human, the experience Jesus was supposed to have in the first place.
I made a blink decision to cut someone out of my life because I needed them to leave me alone. I needed them to stop hurting me. I have a feeling they would argue that I should have stopped hurting them, and they’re not wrong. I am sorry. Just because I have trauma reflexes, that doesn’t make my words okay. It also doesn’t excuse anyone else for their bad behavior. It only apologizes for my part, because no problem is 100% all me or vice versa.
I also cannot abide people who think that working on issues is always bad. That I am only dredging up the past, not trying to clean the “junk drawer of the soul.” I am not putting out “nastiness.” I am saying “here is the problem. Here’s how I think we can fix it. How do you?” And, of course, when someone has hit a trigger, that reaction is sometimes accurate and sometimes buried under a lot of rage.
Rage is not my favorite emotion ever. It only happens when my trauma reflexes work faster than the others. If you say you’re out, I will HELP YOU PACK. Good luck moving home. In most cases, you’re just another person I don’t trust/respect/like because I don’t feel safe.
This is because like I’ve said before, if you agree to be a friend, you agree to be a lockbox. Once I don’t feel like you’re mine, bye Felicia…. Bye.
I wish I could be more loving, more open, all that. I just can’t until my trauma reflexes calm down, and that will come with time. It’s not that I don’t know there’s a problem. I do. I just can’t do anything about it right this moment because reflexes are ingrained. They will never change all at once. It’s a process.
Impatience will always eat my lunch, but only when I don’t know what’s going on. But do I regret throwing an actual emotional bomb that was meant because of it? No. Because their way of dealing with a problem was to not do anything to change it. Then, when I realize I’m giving too much energy to a problem and you seem uninterested, I don’t want that problem anymore because it takes two to fight and two to fix.
I am not going to fix anything anymore. I’m not going to do other people’s emotional work for them. I have before and haven’t regretted it until now, because what I realized is that I was taking on everyone’s pain and no one was taking on mine, but not in terms of everything everywhere all at once. In terms of defining the problem and the priority.
I don’t expect any of this if you’ve just walked into my life. I expect it from people who have known me long enough to see me.
Stories That Are All True 