INTJ Mom's - With ENFP Daughters

I have an amazing daughter.  She's funny and intelligent and absolutely lights up my life.  

She's also an ENFP.  A TEENAGE ENFP.  There is a terrific post about ENFP children here and it rings so true for her.  

What it probably doesn't say is that ENFP and INTJ relationships are one of the most laughed about and talked about relationships in MBTI.  Where the INTJ is cast as all serious and prickly, the ENFP is the enthusiastic, heart warming, people loving polar opposite.   

Lucky for her, I'm her Mom and I couldn't run away screaming like a normal INTJ response would presume (lol).   

Imagine my relief when I was finally able to "figure her out" and we discovered her ENFP-ness.  I think she felt the same kind of relief to understand me, at long last.  Now it has become a source of entertainment for her (and for me) to point out those differences.  It gave us some common ground on which to work and probably saved us from driving each other insane as she has morphed into teenage ENFP.  

I discovered a great tactic a while ago to deal with her emotional teenage outbursts.  I talk to her, hug her, give sage advise... and when none of that works I let loose with an incredibly uncharacteristic emotional outburst of my own, complete with arm waving, tears and a voice that raises about two octaves.  At that point she's usually so flabbergasted to see me in such a state that she calms down.  Someday she might realize that it's just a little premeditated  *cackle*  Survival of the fittest, sweety!  I feel totally justified in this since she uses her people-intuition to push my buttons at every opportunity.  

Earlier today, in fact, as I was typing my previous blog post she came up and wrapped her arms around me and said "You're in Thinking mode."  I replied "Yep" and kept typing. She then laughed, squeeeeezed harder and started chanting and yelling "FEEL! I WANT YOU TO FEEL! DO IT!" I began laughing and told her that I was beginning to FEEL something and she was about to be it's recipient.  

She laughed, giggled and squeeeezed some more with glee "IT'S COMING! I CAN TELL!"  I gave a fake growl, snuggled back with her... and then told her to never marry an INTJ. She skipped away, proud of herself for getting me to break concentration and respond to her irrational quest.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm not the most ill-prepared woman in the world to help this child grow into an adult.  She's a complete enigma to me and yet I love her unconditionally and fiercely.  The most entertaining person I know is this confusing little creature I call daughter.  I have no idea how I made something like that.  I'm so incredibly glad that I did.  

INTJ Children

Preemptive note:  This blog post is specifically intended for those interested in studying INTJ personalities.  It will be most helpful in hearing how an INTJ child viewed herself and the world around her, as well as hobbies and environmental factors.

I was a weird kid, I'm sure of it.  When I look back I find it difficult to separate how I felt and thought from the way others must have seen me.  I may be more self-aware now, but as a child I truly lived in a world of my own making.  There was zero concept of how my actions, words and interests were received by others, except to note from time to time a hostility aimed in my direction.  I didn't understand it.  

My thoughts were rarely angry and I never went out of my way to be purposely mean to someone... but I could build up intense dislike for bullies (even if I was not the one being bullied).  That would later turn me into a sort of champion and defender of the underdogs as I grew older.  As an adult I grow instantly wary of "public opinion" when whole groups of people choose to ostracize and attack a single individual.  I prefer to withhold judgement until I can make my own observations.  Quite often those "outsiders" become my friends.  

Children can be unforgiving though and when I look back on the course of my life I can't help but smile in pity and want to offer up a hug to the eight year old Me who felt so isolated and misunderstood.  I had friends (some of whom I still keep in touch with) but more often I found that I didn't quite fit in, and things that others seemed to do naturally were a complete mystery to me.  I wish I could have been there for her to offer up some advise but unfortunately she had to figure it out on her own.  Let me paint a picture.

My 5th birthday was three days too late to start kindergarten in 1985.  Thanks to my Aunt and cousin I was well versed on colors, numbers, shapes and alphabet singing... but I was "too little".  As soul-crushing as it was to have to wait "...a whole 'nother year!" it gave me a huge advantage the following year. By the time I entered school I could already read at a first or second grade level.  I was assigned to accelerated reading, writing and English classes in every school year (and yet I still repeatedly end sentences with prepositions).  I distinctly remember reading White Fang in third grade and being accused by my reading teacher (and all of my reading group peers) of lying about reading it and "creating" a storyline for my book report.  I literally had to show the teacher the ending of the book to prove that it wasn't at all like the movie (which I had never seen).  "White Fang does TOO end up in the South and in the end he has little puppies climbing on him!"  Whatever.  It seems that this incident still brings up feelings of resentment and indignation because expletives keep trying to leave my fingertips to make it onto this page.  I still have the original book... which is falling apart and has a most of the first pages missing.  I love that book.

Looking back it seems like teachers were always identifying me as "different"... sometimes in a positive way and other times very badly.  There didn't seem to be many passive spectators... they either offered me challenges or rode my proverbial arse constantly.  "Misty has so much potential.", "Misty doesn't pay attention in class.", "Misty doesn't complete her homework.", "Misty tested in the 95th percentile in the nation."  (Seriously, I kept this because I was shocked to learn that this 2nd grade teacher who I thought had hated me had written something like this to my parents.  I found it in my Mom's saved school works of ours when I was a teenager.)

Maybe because I "stood out" (for better or worse) I ended up in a large number of "special programs" and have no idea how it happened or who put me in them. I remember doing a movie-making class at the local tech college in fourth grade where we would ride a bus there and back, spending an hour or so learning how to use recording equipment and making a bad reproduction of The Wizard of Oz. On those days I was allowed to miss Math class... which was a blessing because she was another teacher who I'm pretty sure hated me.  I faked being sick more in her class than any other in the history of my school years and the school nurse began sending me directly back because I made such a common appearance at the same time of day so frequently.  One day the nurse caught me taking the long route back to class, hoping to delay my return until the period ended.  In that moment I was actually sad because I loved the school nurse and felt like I had let her down somehow.  I think that single year set me up for years of trouble in Math.  Add the lack of Math fundamentals to my avoidance of doing homework and it was a perfect storm.  Over the next few years I came to know the school principle pretty well because I never did my homework in elementary school... I knew him so well, in fact, that I helped organize a retirement party for him with the students years later.

One thing in particular stayed the same for my entire life: I LOVE books.  I had a great book collection by the time I graduated and I still own most of them. They were my most important possessions and I would still count my library among the things I might consider hauling out with me should the house catch on fire.  I'd probably die in a blaze while pitching classic novels out the window.  In grade school I literally walked around the halls with my nose in a book, allowing my peripheral vision and the elbows of others to direct me through the flow of traffic.  One year I lost one of my favorite library books (Shel Silverstein's "Where the Sidewalk Ends") and instead of paying to replace it I ended up "working" in the library after the school year ended to organize all of the books on the shelves and put them back into their proper dewy-decimal-ed places.  My "punishment" was the highlight of my summer vacation... I was in heaven.  If I had been brave enough I would have offered to come in at the end of every school year to help re-organize the books... but since this was supposed to be my punishment I figured I'd better not act too happy about it or they might find some different form of punishment for me.  I still have no idea what happened to that book.  I hope it didn't meet with some untimely demise. Books were my friends and the library was my second home.  It was quiet and talking was actually frowned upon!  Not to mention the abundance of new ideas, places, people and things that were inside the covers of books

Once, as a senior in high school, I found a book that some idiot had spit a huge wad of tobacco into and went into such a fit that I sat down to write a scathing piece titled "Literary Critic Comes to X-ville" to the anonymous criminal.  It ended up in the school newsletter and I still have a copy of it because it makes me laugh every time I see it.  If I can find it, I'll post it here.  It's hilariously obnoxious... INTJ Self Righteousness at it's best.  I felt better after I finished writing it.  Interestingly enough it was the only thing I ever felt strongly enough about to "speak out against".  Don't mess with the books or the wrath will find you.  Ahh... here it is:

I found hobbies and interests that weren't exactly sexy.  I was a Clogger.  I played the Trombone (not by choice).  I was an amazing color guard member in the marching band and ended up being recruited into the instructors indoor-guard group.  I wrote poetry... a LOT of poetry.  I studied handwriting analysis after a little machine at a carnival printed out an "amazingly accurate description" of me after I gave it my $5.00. I thought it was incredible that such things could be derived from handwriting alone.  

In ninth or tenth grade I signed up for the schools Peer Tutor program and would spend a couple afternoons a week in the elementary school working with K-4 graders.  I continued to work as a tutor until I graduated and found a huge sense of accomplishment helping young minds learn.  It was this work that led me to believe I would be a teacher when I graduated.

My junior year in highschool that tendency to be chosen for "special programs" actually changed the course of my life... and quite by accident.  We had a school assembly where some kids from our foreign exchange club (something I'd never paid any attention to) were talking to us about what they did and how great it was.  It sounded interesting but at the end, when they said that "anyone who wanted to learn more should stay behind after the assembly" I really only stayed because I didn't want to go back to Math class.  (Yep... still avoiding Math.)  Nine months later I was on a plane bound for Spain for a year long experience.  Oops.  The application and selection process moved so fast I barely had time to process what was happening.  Then I was fundraising and applying for a Visa.  Then came an orientation, then my first time flying on a plane... followed by culture shock and an accelerated course in learning more Spanish. Three years of highschool Spanish, no matter how good you are at it, does not prepare you for immersion in a Spanish speaking culture.  Not to mention the regional language that was spoken in the Valencia region.  I honed my potential career to possibly being a Spanish teacher or translator during this time.

Student Orientation in Spain

Classmates & Friends 

(Completely oblivious to the fact that flannel 

was not a thing in Spain... or maybe even at home.)

My Junior year I was also inducted into the National Honor Society.  It was a very proud moment for me to go through the induction ceremony and to receive my pin.

I have all sorts of odd paper clippings saved in albums, some of which included things like early references (a few years prior) to the Y2K issue and a "Leap Second" that took place in 1995-1996 at the end of the year.  Somehow I knew these things were important.  Apparently I do have a strong sentimental streak... but it isn't always for the things that are obvious.  

Its difficult to sum up my experience as a child except to say that sometimes I was "preparing" for something that I didn't even know I was working toward until it happened.  That seems to remain true, even today.  I worked hard and opportunities arose.  More often than not I found myself in a position to take advantage of them... which broadened my foundation even more.  I feel extremely lucky to have had so many experiences and for all the teachers, mentors and family members who encouraged me to work for goals, even when they seemed impossible.