What I'd Tell My Younger Self as an INFP

I remember the day I discovered I was an INFP. I had recently turned 18 and, as I sat in my study, reading through the personality type descriptions, it suddenly all made sense. 

The daydreaming that parents would often call me out for, the emotional intensity that made me feel like an alien, the projects I'd started and abandoned, the way I could feel a stranger's sadness from across a room—all of it finally made sense.

I was a Healer, an Idealist, a Dreamer. I felt validated for the first time. There was nothing wrong with me. I was just different, and different was actually special.

This “newfound” identity provided comfort for a while. But I realized that knowing my four-letter type was not enough. The real growth came from understanding my cognitive function stack and a deeper underlying architecture of how my mind really works.

If I could go back and sit with my younger self, here's the wisdom I'd share with her.

1. Your Inner World Needs an Exit Strategy

My dominant function is Introverted Feeling (Fi), which means my internal value system and emotions are how I make sense of everything. While other people naturally look outward for validation or direction, my first instinct is to check in with myself. I know what feels right or wrong without needing anyone else to confirm it.

My “inner world” is where my authenticity lives. It’s where I process experiences, sort through emotions, and develop my moral compass. When I was younger, I spent hours in this inner world, replaying conversations, imagining scenarios, and feeling my way through every experience.

I was unaware that my constant use of Fi was both my greatest strength and my greatest weakness.

And now that I'm in my mid-thirties, I wish I'd known sooner that my inner world should inform my outer actions, not replace them. Spending days processing feelings about a conflict instead of addressing it isn't deep emotional work; it's avoidance. Similarly, imagining the perfect novel instead of writing the messy first draft isn't honoring creativity; it's hiding from vulnerability.

Now, I realize that my Fi requires space to express itself. But without balance from my other functions, that inner world becomes less of a sanctuary and more of a place where I hide from reality.

2. Stop Hoarding Possibilities and Commit to Something

My auxiliary function is Extraverted Intuition (Ne), which is basically why everything looks like a possibility to me. Give me a blank page, and I don't see emptiness—I see a thousand different stories waiting to be written. I have a casual conversation with someone, and my mind starts spinning out all these potential futures. And a single idea pops into my head, and within minutes it's become this whole elaborate thing.

When I was younger, I thought everyone's mind worked this way. Doesn't everyone imagine 17 career paths before breakfast? No, they don’t!

This is my Ne—pattern-seeking, possibility-generating, connecting the dots others don't see.

The gift of Ne keeps me open, curious and creative. The curse is it keeps me perpetually searching for the next shiny idea instead of committing to the one in front of me. I've initiated so many projects that I've lost track. Each felt like THE ONE until another possibility appeared.

I wish I'd understood earlier that Ne and Fi are meant to work together. My Ne is what makes me wonder about endless possibilities, but my Fi helps me choose which ones matter. I need to pause and ask: "Does this idea actually resonate with my core values, or does it just seem exciting right now?" If it truly aligns with who I am, commit. If not, it's okay to let it go.

My Ne will always generate more ideas than I can execute. That's a feature, not a flaw. But I have to choose which possibilities to bring into reality, or I'll spend my whole life dreaming instead of doing.

3. The Lessons You Keep Ignoring Are the Ones You Need Most

My tertiary function is Introverted Sensing (Si), and I ignored it for most of my twenties. Si helps me learn from past experiences, notice patterns, and build useful routines. For me as an INFP, it felt boring and restrictive.

I wanted to live spontaneously, chasing inspiration wherever it took me. But without any Si, I wasn't being spontaneous—I was just ignoring my own past mistakes. How many times did I quit projects the moment they got hard, never stopping to wonder why I kept doing this? How many times did I pursue something that “felt right” only to experience failure in the same way, on repeat?

Here's what took me too long to figure out. Si isn't about becoming rigid or killing my spontaneity. It's about actually learning from my own experience instead of starting from scratch every time. It's about paying attention to what works for me—not what should work in theory, but what has actually led to growth versus burnout in my own life.

When I finally honored my Si, I realized I do better with gentle structure than total freedom. Certain environments drain me while others energize me. My creative process has a rhythm, and working with it makes everything easier.

4. Logic Isn't Your Enemy—It's the Bridge to Your Dreams

My inferior function is Extraverted Thinking (Te), and for years I treated it like the enemy. Te is all about organizing the external world, creating systems, measuring results—basically everything that felt opposite to my Fi (Introverted Feeling), which cares about authenticity and staying true to my values.

When I was younger, I genuinely resented Te. It represented everything I wasn't and didn't want to be; logical, organized, practical, efficient. The world seemed to constantly push me to be more like Te-dominant people, and I hated it.

Jobs demanded productivity that could be “measured” when all I wanted was meaningful work. People asked for concrete plans when I preferred keeping my options open. It felt like being asked to betray who I was.

But here's what I missed. Te wasn't trying to change who I am—it was offering me tools to actually bring my inner world into reality.

All those dreams I've been carrying around, for instance, the novel that I want to write, the business that I want to start, and the non-profit for cancer survivors that I want to support? Te is what transforms them from beautiful ideas into things that actually exist in the world. It's the bridge between “I wish this existed” and “I made this happen.”

My mistake was trying to use Te the way Te-dominant types do as my main way of seeing the world. But I'm not wired that way. I lead with Fi (Introverted Feeling). I did not understand that I don't have to become a productivity machine. I just need enough Te to be able to execute the things that matter to me based on my values.

But now, I can see that Te is a tool that serves my values, and not as a cage that confines me.

5. Beware of The Fi-Si Loop 

There's a destructive pattern called the Fi-Si loop, where INFPs get stuck between their dominant (Fi) and tertiary (Si) functions, completely bypassing Ne (Extraverted Intuition). It happens when we retreat so deeply into our inner world that we stop taking in new information and just ruminate on past hurts.

I've been in this loop more times than I care to admit. Someone hurts or disappoints me. My Fi feels the injury deeply. My Si reminds me of every other time I've been hurt this way. I build a narrative where I'm the misunderstood victim and everyone else is shallow or incapable of understanding me.

The loop is seductive because it feels like deep emotional processing. But I'm not actually processing anything. I'm just reinforcing the same story, getting more convinced of my righteousness and more isolated.

What breaks the loop? My Ne (Extraverted Intuition). I am forcing myself to consider alternative possibilities. What if their behavior wasn't about me? What if there's information I don't have? Could there be other valid interpretations besides my own?

I used to think questioning my feelings was betraying my Fi. Now I understand that Ne doesn't invalidate Fi—it enriches it. My feelings are valid, and other perspectives can be valid. Both can be true.

What I Know Now That I Wish I Knew Then

If my younger self could read this, I hope they'd understand that there's nothing wrong with being an INFP. But there is work to do. 

I've learned to create boundaries around my need for solitude without feeling guilty about it. I've learned to recognize when I'm overthinking and channel that energy towards taking action. I've learned to start projects even though I know they won't be flawless. And I now understand that a messy draft that exists is more valuable than a flawless idea that never leaves my head. Most importantly, I've realized that my sensitivity, imagination and drive for authenticity aren't flaws I need to fix.

A Note to Fellow INFPs

If this resonates with you, you're definitely not alone. All of us are dealing with the same challenges.

The goal isn't to stop being an INFP. It's to become the fullest, most balanced expression of your type. To use your beautiful Fi-Ne core while developing your Si and Te enough to actually create the changes you envision.

Understanding your cognitive functions can transform your relationship with yourself, and it will give you a roadmap for navigating life as an INFP. It helps you understand why you operate the way you do and shows you how to channel your strengths effectively.

This is the self-discovery work that pays off. So don't let this be another thing you start with and abandon. Because you deserve to live the life you envision.