An Inherent Longing

I realise recently I’ve been writing rather sappy posts, full of wonder and optimism. However, like any other INFJ, such idealism is usually simultaneously felt with a healthy amount of reality, practicality, or sometimes, I daresay, pessimism. How we are capable of seeing both sides of this coin still baffles even myself. That said, this one might not be as much sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns as my more recent posts.

While, yes, my life and its current changes have been breathtakingly enjoyable, amazing, and thrilling, there has been an obstacle obstructing my path. Now, it’s not some treacherous, villainous creature threatening to undo everything; though, it very well could. It’s just Life, and Life is messy, especially mine.

What it is, is a reminder. A reminder that works like a spell to unmercifully prick my memories to stir up years of tormenting pain, casting its vision over me that I might lose my way and forget how far I’ve come, where I’m going, and who I am.

Now, this is not intentionally or directly done by those involved. In fact, I’m an INFJ, remember? I might feel the tempest raging inside me, but to others, I’m as stoic as stone. Thus, no one knows this pain and its depth which I’m enduring, except one.

Does this make it all the more painful? Yes…and no. Yes, because I feel alone, though I know I’m not. No, because I fear what would happen if I was honest with the others involved, because if I revealed my sorrows, it might hurt them, and that’s the last thing I want. At the end of the day, I can endure my pain for their sakes because I still care about them, deeply. Besides, it’s just pain. It’ll go away eventually, right?

(Ah, the complicated enigma we INFJs are… I can hear my rabbi now, “Altruism in itself is a sin.” Don’t ask me what that means. I’m still trying to figure it out myself. If I had context, it’d probably help.)

Sure, I realise I’m probably making all this more difficult for myself. I know my pains are legitimate, and if brought forth into the open, confessed to those involved, it could be addressed, beneficial even. However, my trust is broken at the moment, which is why I’m withholding this possibly vital information.

You see, this reminder stings with a bitterness I’ve known all my life, a twang deep in my soul. It stirs up in me an inherent longing I cannot control nor deny. Trust me, I’ve tried. It’s insatiable. So what is it?

I want to be believed in.

Allow me to explain, and yes, I will be using some MBTI language to do so. I’m not sure what other vernacular I’d utilize simply because nothing articulates with such precision. Of course, I will be describing my supposed plight as an INFJ feeling alienated by this world, which only adds to the countless other articles on this Internet regarding us mystical, pretentious creatures. That said, my version is merely experienced and communicated through an INFJ lens. My specific MBTI does not mean there are others who are not INFJs that do not experience this. It is, I think, a human condition, one which we all experience and suffer. MBTI has nothing to do with it.

When I say I want to be believed in, it could be interpreted as “understood”, but to me it’s more. It means I want someone to come along side me and tell me my goals, hopes, fears, and dreams are legitimate, that I am not crazy, that this idealistic world I’ve envisioned is not some empty pipe-dream leading me nowhere but heartache and failure, but it’s possible, achievable. It’s believable. Additionally, I want someone who can listen to my incessant rants, emotional outbursts, and bizarre intuitions and see the validity, not the insanity.

Recently, I had a conversation with a friend. I asked them which of the four elements they thought they were. When they asked what I thought of myself, I honestly answered.

“People usually see me as fire: this impassioned, volatile thing. But I don’t think that’s what I am. Maybe, on the outside, but I think I’m really like the wind because—” And they so poetically interrupted me to say, “You’re free.”

I paused. I never thought of it like that. Sure, I was probably projecting my delight in the Air Awakens series I read a few months ago (and still haven’t recovered from). But they were right. And like the wind, though you can see it, can’t capture it, can’t harness or control it, I’m here. I exist. I’m real. You can feel me. My invisibility isn’t something to doubt my existence. Rather, it makes belief in me all the more significant.

Of course, what I’ve endured has been the complete opposite. People closest to me, those whom I thought I could trust with these intimate parts of myself, have had some rather shocking, and thus consequently painful to me, reactions when I crack open my soul a bit to show them who I am.

But I don’t need a shrink. I don’t need to be tested, observed, psychoanalysed, or locked up in some asylum.

I need a friend.

I think this is rather universal for all us humans, and especially common for us introverted, intuitive types (INFJs, INFPs, INTJs, and INTPs alike). It’s also why we tend to become even more reserved and private than we initially are.

We become isolated, forgetting the touch of another’s acceptance and love. After experiencing the amount of rejection and pain we’ve endured, it’s beyond difficult to open ourselves up to anyone who feigns interest. Learning to trust, let others in, share ourselves, open up, etc. is probably one of the most difficult challenges we face.

For me, there is no greater example of what I have grown up feeling, desiring, and experiencing than the Disney film Frozen. Regardless of the pop-culture icon it became, or whatever discrepancies you might have against it, you cannot deny how marvellous a film it was.

Like Elsa, I felt that my inner self, the core of me, was always seen as some sort of magical witchcraft, despised and rejected by those closest to me as well as society. Except one.

My sister.

I remember the first time I watched Frozen. My family went Thanksgiving Day, err Thanksgivukkah Day, as a part of our festive celebrations. During that opening sequence, I was mesmerised. Then, like Disney so artistically and effortlessly does, my heart was ripped out. When the unforgettable Do You Want to Build a Snowman began, tears streamed down my face. Soon, I was silently weeping. Never before had my life’s story been so beautifully encapsulated.

And my Anna, my sister, sat next to me watching, too. Granted, she felt as much like Elsa as I did (probably because she’s my opposite, an INTJ), thinking me her Anna too, but isn’t that the point? That we as sisters share a bond so inexplicably strong, we constantly are instinctively striving to bring out the best in each other? Of course, growing up, it was much, much…much more painful. Excruciatingly.

But love won. It always does.

There were times when myself, those aspects of me likened to Elsa’s powers, did to my sister as hers did to Anna, hurting her and freezing her heart. I remember shutting her out, too, trying to keep her protected, safe from me. I remember her confusion, the deeper pain it caused her. However, like in the film, my sister never gave up on me. Never. No matter the vicious, malicious pain I inflicted on her, she was always there for me.

In my life, there is no one who comes close to comparing to my sister. She is the most exquisite, fascinating, beautiful person I have ever known. She taught me how to believe in myself, stand up for myself, and fight for myself. She still does. She is my inspiration, my supporter, and above all, my friend.

I’m not perfect at telling her this, at expressing it, and we still have our moments, but I will never stop trying until she continuously knows how much I care for, cherish, enjoy, and love her. (And she does.)

Thus, while I face this new obstacle, wishing those involved believed in me too (because to me there is no greater display of their supposed love and affection for me), I will not ask for it nor even express the need.

I probably should. It would probably be the wise thing to do, but I would be lying if I said such honesty terrifies me. I’m only now beginning to let others into my life, learning and allowing others to love me, when before I shut out the world. Whatever happens, I look to Hashem to guide me, to tell me what to say, how to react, etc., for He knows my story even better than I do. He’s the One writing it after all.

Above all, though, I will not allow the pain to consume me as it once did. Sure, it hurts, but I’m not driven to despair and without hope. I know what it feels like to be believed in, to be loved. I just need one person, and I can overcome this. We can. Together.