I am going to talk about the ISFJ/INFP thing rather than ESFJ/ENFP, because the former is closer to my heart. Oh, how about this - I'm an aspiring writer. Why don't I communicate my thoughts in the form of a story?
The girl who wears flannels and puts flowers in her hair. The girl who's always lost in a book or carrying journals upon journals of introspective musings. The girl who's never felt like she never quite fit with society. The girl with a quick mind and an ache for mystery. The girl who makes up her own fantasy lands and prides herself on being a dreamer. The girl people wonder about - what is she like? The girl who lives in her head and just wants to find her way. The girl who doesn't care much for pop culture and small talk, preferring to talk about meaning and things that light her up inside. The girl who wants to express herself in everything she does. The girl who wants to work alone, not in groups. The girl who loses everything and can't keep up with the world. The girl who would rather stay in with a good book and a cup of tea than go see her relatives. The girl who cares very much about who she is and what she wants. The girl teachers describe as profound, imaginative, and sensitive. The girl who's a freethinker. The impractical girl. The girl who writes and doesn't take things at face value. The girl who won't settle until she has meaning. The girl whose mind works like fireworks and trampolines.
This girl, in her pursuit of self-discovery, stumbles upon typology - unfortunately, Keirsey and other stereotypes. She reads about INFPs and feels something click inside her. Those descriptions are so much like her. Something has come close to pinpointing some of her wayward identity, so she attaches to it. It becomes another little branch on her tree of identity. Fascinated by type theory, and craving to know more about herself, she joins a typology forum. Finally, she feels, there is a place for her. All is well until a few people say, hey, you might be an ISFJ.
The girl feels immediately that she is being attacked. Because she is a searching soul who has finally found a piece of herself, as an INFP, she feels especially upset. That little branch is being cut off, and it hurts. Everything she has read about SFJs goes against who she is. She's read that SFJs aren't intellectual; that they don't have wild imaginations or wandering spirits; that they're hypertraditional; that they want to stay inside, wear aprons, and bake pretty little cakes for the Ladies Auxiliary. She doesn't see ISFJ as a suggestion; she sees it as an insult.
She becomes annoyed at anyone who questions her, but yet, she is afraid. She has clung to this dumb little label, and she will protect it. In an effort to convince others that she really is that label, she overcompensates, and comes off as fake and simple, which goes against her values of realness and truth. She has become attached to the INFP label and doesn't want to give it up - to do so would feel like giving up her identity. She's built the INFP type out of the building blocks of stereotypes, but more importantly, building blocks of
herself. Because she is a supposed INFP, everything she does is INFP. Abandoning the INFP label would feel like abandoning herself. Being an ISFJ would mean adopting that sickeningly stereotyped image that has been painted in her mind. So, when confronted with an objection to her type, she digs her heels in and becomes defiant. No. She knows who she is, and she won't have any of your drivel. After all, she is independent and freewheeling.
So here we have it, folks. A young, potential ISFJ drunk out of her mind on stereotypes. It's pleasant there in the blurry stupor, in the INFP delusion. Tomorrow, she'll be greeted by the reality of what she truly might be. Tomorrow, she'll be hung over. So she clings to the bottle and takes another drink of stereotypes...
and another...
and another...
What do you think about that!?!? Bwahaha.
