People who have the INFJ personality type tend to be writers. The article, “Why Do So Many INFJs Want to Write,” explains it this way:
INFJs are complex, deep thinkers with a keen insight into how people think and feel, so we’re not afraid of dealing with people’s complex personal problems.
This combination of understanding, sensitivity, and empathy creates a desire in INFJs to express our thoughts and feelings about the world around us and the people in it, with the ultimate goal of helping other people. We want to shed light on difficult situations and convoluted feelings and help people make sense of their lives and themselves.
INFJs are often natural writers. We not only have the empathy to understand others but as Introverts, we enjoy working alone. For many people, the solitude necessary for writing is the hardest part, but for INFJs, it often feels like a sanctuary. It gives us the time and space we need to stop and think, reflect on our ideas and express ourselves.
As sensitive individuals, we are always absorbing information around us, including sights, sounds, smells, temperature, light, and other people’s feelings. We are constantly processing this information and trying to make sense of it. Because we absorb so much, we need an outlet for all this energy. This is what gives us a creative drive. Without attending to our need for creative expression, however, we can quickly become ill or experience physical systems of being “blocked,” including skin problems, headaches, digestive ailments, and sleep disorders.
That is true of me. If I have strong thoughts, my stomach hurts and I can’t sleep until I pour them out. Writing is how I process things and remind myself of truth.
I read an article today titled, “Why You’re So Confused by Covert Abuse: The Doubt-filled Mind and Dysregulated Brain” It describes very clearly how abuse affects a victim, what victims struggle with, and why. It also explains why I loathe bullies who try to take away others’ freedoms, who pressure people to believe, think, say, or act as they want them to. It really is an excellent article.
Oh, and I dislike the memes that go around now and then at FB that says that it’s a simple matter to recover from abuse–all you have to do is choose to think positively or some other nonsense. I think emotional trauma is much like a physical injury. Yes, a person with a broken bone must choose to do what is necessary to heal, but healing doesn’t happen in a day, it involves enduring painful casts, surgeries, and exercises, and sometimes there’s setbacks and discouragement. Emotional trauma is sort of like that.
At his mom’s funeral, EJ picked up a couple of those little card things that usually have a poem, birth/death dates, and time of service. I’m sure they have an official name, but I don’t really know what it is. EJ was going to keep one of the cards for himself and take one to work to prove that his mom had actually died. Apparently, some people lie about relatives dying to get days off work. I put the cards in my purse for safekeeping, but the next day I couldn’t find it. I asked EJ if I had given it to him, and I even looked in his lunchbox. It wasn’t there. Then I found a couple tiny pieces of it on the bed. Hannah Joy, our “pit-pocket” dog, stole them from my purse and ate them. I don’t think many people would believe the old cliche’ excuse: “My dog ate it.” JJ also had a copy so we drove to his place on Monday morning to pick it up.
Earlier this week, I took Hannah outside to do her “business.” As we walked onto the porch to head into the house, a yellow jacket stung her. It was actually riding on her back so I think it stung her several times. EJ knocked it off her. Yellow Jackets have just built a nest at the base of one of the pillars of our porch. Poor, poor Hannah. She recovered relatively quickly though.
Our ten little chicks are growing very fast. The day they arrived, we put them in a box in the bathtub because they were so tiny. They noticeably grew larger from day to day, and even from morning to evening. They are already getting wing feathers. At first, when I put my hand in the box to pet them, they crowded away from me, but now they all try to climb on or in my hand. Today one of them was able to get out of the box and into the tub. I think tomorrow I will have to transfer them to the coop.
Our coop is actually a 12 x 10 shed. Inside the coop it an old wooden doghouse that the previous owners left behind, as well as a fancier coop from TSC. Most of the chickens like to roost on the fancy coop. Two or three like to roost inside it or in the doghouse. We can shut the chicks inside the fancy coop as we slowly introduce them to the older chickens. I read an article that said we can let the chicks join the flock when they are 6-8 weeks old.
Today one of my egg customers dropped by to pick up a couple dozen. I really enjoy my egg customers. I asked her if she’d like to see the ten little chicks. She did, and we had an enjoyable time giving them lovings. They are so cute and fluffy.