The Switch

I'm writing a list of cliched and ridiculous titles for a book that either I'll never write or you'll never read, including:

Always the Diplomat: From Campaigner to Advocate

Advocacy: Off the Campaign Trail

Advocating for Diplomacy

Campaigning for Diplomacy

Campaigning for Advocacy

Advocating for...Campaigns?

...and every iteration of that.

If you recognize these words, then you probably know where I'm going with this. Well...if you recognize these words then you probably speak English, but if you recognize these words as a collective, then we're probably on the same page. Also, I've been asked by a dear friend to write again; to write about something invoking and spiritual and true to me. Today I'm in a trendy, open-concept cafe in the Harajuku district of Tokyo with nothing but time on my hands, and I finally have something to write about -- something of which I've been suspicious for a while. A post-medication personality change.

Now, I don't know how to really write about this because I'm not sure if it's really true that the meds I take can change or have changed my personality, or if it's just circumstantial. Simply put, I couldn't determine beyond a reasonable doubt that it's the meds. Can't prove it. No judge would rule in my favor, and I don't need that kind of validation anyway. It simply is or isn't, and I'll probably never know.

All I know is that at some point over the past five years or so, I switched from a Myers-Briggs ENFP (Campaigner) to a Myers-Briggs INFJ-T (Advocate.) Both exist under the Diplomat category, so it's not a super dramatic swing; my N and my F have stayed, as intuition and feeling are probably pretty hard-wired into my system. Switching from a P (perceiving) to J (judging) seems about right, and the T (turbulent) is pretty unsurprising...but flying over to the I from the E is something I never thought I'd do.

In retrospect, though, figures my salty, singer-songwriter self would end up more of an Alanis Morissette than a Will Smith. 

From being and being perceived as extroverted for most of my life, it's been a true adjustment to first realize and then lean into my deep, wide introversion. There was a very real time, during my adolescence and young adulthood especially, when I was the voice for the group; outgoing, loquacious, inviting. My last years on stage, literally and perceptively. 

But now I associate that extroversion with...almost simplicity. Not that extroverts are simple; often extroverts are just as complex as introverts. My extroversion, though, was an expectation and somewhat of a bandaid. I used it to surround myself with friends and to play into the "enthusiastic, passionate team player" mantra we robotically repeat before job interviews in the US.

This ideology I now associate with aggressive, billionaire-sustaining capitalism and systemic evil, but anyway. Another topic.

My point is, this doesn't reflect who I turned out to be. Instead, I turned out to be more discerning, more critical, and more observational. 

Due to the amount of time I spend traveling by myself, this change could both be surprising and unsurprising. Unsurprising because (duh) I'm perfectly alright traveling by myself and spending time in my own company, but even that has its concrete limits. Surprising because it's perhaps then difficult to understand how I combat loneliness in a strange place.

If I'm not actively making friendships, then how do I have so many wonderful friends all over the world? 

Because somebody else is almost always the catalyst.

I make friends with extroverts, or extroverted introverts, or whoever feels like saying hi to me. I am more than happy to engage in a conversation with most anyone. I often put myself in an inviting position; whether it's opening the curtain surrounding my bunk bed in a hostel dorm, sitting at a bar, joining a table in the common room...in anticipation that somebody will say hello or invite me in, and they almost always do. 

Apart from the benefit and inclusion of having a new friend and new travel pals with whom I can explore a new place, it also takes the burden of commitment off of me. When I need time alone, it isn't me who has invited me along, so to speak. I can break off, I can rest, I can work, I can spend time by myself in a flower garden which, of late, is my absolute favorite thing to do. 

I still honor my commitments to the very end, but I'm not in charge of the group's social calendar. I have no desire to do that, but I'm more than happy to participate and contribute. 

I remember noticing the switch before I started taking meds, in the sense that I felt a noticeable spike in my social anxiety. I was a little bit homeless at the time, though, so that's probably more to do with the stress and trauma of getting by than anything else.

But then, when I started to get used to the regimen of medication I also noticed an implosion in my head and chest. A concavity that wasn't necessarily empty, but turned more inwardly than normal. It wasn't a bad thing, but again, surprising.

But looking back, it's a far more accurate descriptor for who I am now. That's why I flipped through the test again last night and ended up with INFJ-T, The Advocate, the rarest of them all which, I admit, I quite like. 

As self-reflective and introspective as I am, it has taken me quite a while to take the test again for further evidence of something I had already suspected, known. It isn't really that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, but I spend so much of my time trying to understand and reconcile myself that it's a very big deal for me. And with that, I'll leave you with a picture of me doing my favorite thing of the season.

Get you somebody who looks at you like I look at flowers.