Anon wrote: Hello, dear mbtinotes. We are two sisters who learn a great deal from your writings and truly enjoy reading them. I am an INTJ and three years older, while my younger sister is an INTP. I would like to begin by thanking you for your insights and apologizing for any possible mistakes in my writing, as English is not my native language.
There are many things I would like to ask you about my INFJ father. However, I want to do so without blaming him and without holding on to the anger, hurt, and disappointment I feel toward him—although I honestly do not know how to let go of those feelings. I want to understand him and perhaps see things, even a little, from his perspective. Neither of us has been able to do that, and as a third-party observer, I am sure you can see things more clearly than we can.
As far as I can remember, things were not the way they are now when I was a child. Because my mother was rather neglectful and critical, I loved my father deeply and almost saw him as a god. I knew I could run to him with any problem and trust him completely. But my sister never felt the same way. Even though she loved him and was always sweeter and more accommodating toward him than I was, we both knew she was pretending and that her feelings of love and respect for him were not entirely genuine. Back then, I could never understand my sister. There was always a wall between her and our father. She could probably see the cage we were living in even as a child, while I could not.
I am now 25 years old and studying at university from home, while my sister studies in another city. We still do not have financial freedom or independence, so I cannot simply leave either.
While writing this, I realized that I still have not even reached the main point. My father has always been someone who sees the worst and most disturbing possibilities in everything, constantly implying them and teaching us to see the world that way as well—especially when it came to men. Without even realizing it, I spent the last ten years fearing men and avoiding them, and even now I still struggle to become close to them.
My father is extremely religious and sees his beliefs as the only truth. Because he feared both the dangers of the outside world and the untrustworthiness of men—and because relationships between girls and boys were already considered sinful in his view—he always believed his behavior was justified. He taught us that the outside world was terrible and that the safest thing was to return home before it even got dark.
My sister was not affected by these things in the same way I was, so perhaps she managed to protect her mental health better than I did. As for me, I developed agoraphobia and became unable to leave the house alone, which eventually led me to therapy. My panic attacks were severe. I cannot even say that I have made much progress. There was a period when I even put my studies on hold because simply going to school felt terrifying. But back then, unlike now, I could not yet see how much responsibility my father had in all of this.
Because I was the naive one, I did not simply wake up one morning and suddenly realize what was unhealthy or wrong. The first time I was truly shocked by my father, I was ten years old. There was a woman wearing a short dress on a television program, and out of nowhere my father said, “If she were my daughter, I would kill her.” (Sorry for if it’s not allowed to mention or disturbing) I thought he must be right—that it was a sin, after all. I was ten years old. Years later, when I brought it up to him, he said, “I was never serious, and I’m sorry for frightening you so much,” but that did not fix anything.
The second incident happened during a very difficult period in our lives. My mother had fallen into such a deep depression that she could barely leave her bed, my father’s shop had completely failed—we were never financially well-off to begin with—and we had moved to a village I found unbearable. I had important exams at the time, and no one except my sister seemed able to adapt. I was 17. One morning, while my father was driving me to school, I kept repeating that we needed to go back, and in frustration he said, “I have no other choice. What am I supposed to do, kill myself?”
That morning, something truly changed for me, and not in a good way. I realized that I did not have the strong, solution-oriented father who would never give up—the father I wanted and believed I had. It felt as though I had lost him that morning. And that was when my anxiety began.
Over the years, there were no other major incidents that stood out in the same way. My sister and I both started university, although even for my sister we arranged things so that she could stay with our grandmother in another city. My mother was satisfied with how things were. She was also extremely anxious and overprotective.
While all of this was happening, we were getting older, and my father would constantly give us contradictory messages. On one hand, he would say, “You are grown up now, you need to stand on your own feet,” but on the other hand, when I was twenty-two and wanted to go on a simple one-day trip to another city with five female friends, he said, “Let’s not take the risk, it could be dangerous.”
And despite all of this, up until just the past month, I was not even angry with him. Can you believe that?
A few years ago, influenced by the cases of girls running away from home that he watched on a low-quality morning TV show, he said, “You can have a boyfriend, I allow it, as long as you don’t run away.” As if this were not something we were inherently entitled to.
And I, foolish as I was, was even happy about it. I already had no men in my life anyway, partly because of my fear of men. I may be blaming him more than I should for this situation. My lack of a boyfriend might also be related to the fact that I chose a field of study that is mostly female-dominated and not very socially active. I am sure that even if I had liked someone, I would have kept my distance anyway.
His “permission,” which I previously thought of as insincere, also feels somewhat contradictory. In a strange way, I am not even afraid of him, and recently we have even managed to assert dominance as two sisters and eventually get him to accept what we want. For example, I stopped participating in a religious ritual that we had always performed, even though I did not want to do it anymore. Despite his two-week-long sulking, emotional arguments, and even crying, he eventually accepted it, even though he kept saying things like, “If you were in my place, what would you do? I am sure this is the right path, and I want to protect my loved ones from God’s wrath.” Still, he accepted it.
My sister had a major influence on my decision. She seems very unhappy with her life and appears depressed, similar to my mother. I knew she hated this ritual but would never say it out loud—both because she was afraid and because she felt hopeless. I am a strange person in that, despite not wanting it at all, I had also adapted to it and had stopped feeling discomfort about it since childhood. But her unhappiness triggered something in me.
My sister once said, only once in her life, “If I didn’t have you, I would have no one.” She is also my best friend and perhaps the reason I am able to cope with life at all. So when it comes to her, I no longer feel any fear.
Last night, I told my father about all of this as honestly and unfiltered as I could. He said he understood and agreed with me, but he also seemed angry—like he was trying to suppress his anger. When I asked, “Are you sure?”, he said, “Men are very trustworthy. Don’t you see what’s happening around you?” and then brought up disturbing things that even a religious figure had recently said. I realized then that changing him would be impossible.
I guess I should learn to deal with it until I leave home.
Another problem is that he is a somewhat obsessive person. Even if he does not cause harm, he fixates on people. Because of this, me leaving home would not have solved anything. Last year, he used to take my aunt’s daughter to school in the mornings as well, along with me. He has seen her as his daughter since her childhood, or at least he says so, and he was extremely overprotective. The girl was an orphan, and in our religion it is considered a great virtue to take care of orphans like a father, so I believe his sincerity. In the end, the girl became overwhelmed by his behavior and said she did not want to stay in contact with him anymore. He did not accept this for a long time, kept messaging her, saying “let’s resolve whatever the problem is, you are like my daughter.” I told him, “If she doesn’t want it, she doesn’t want it. Let her go. Everyone has their own life,” and after a while I managed to shift his focus away from her. Even this process says a lot about him. In general, he has a tendency to fixate on people. I cannot even imagine, even in my wildest nightmares , as his first child, I do not want to see him anymore. On the other hand, I am in a state of deep guilt, anguish, and pain because everything has come to where it is now. I am angry. I just want to live.
I also believe in the same God he believes in, but for completely different reasons. However, whenever he tries to exert pressure, I feel disgusted when he talks about religion.I have started grieving for the father I wished I had.
At university, I have a professor, a respected and well-known academic. One of the best in his field in the country. From many details he has shared about himself, I am almost certain he is an ENTJ. He suddenly came to our university last year, and this had an unexpected effect on me. He showed me great interest and appreciation. He liked my intelligence and the way I think; when he would start a topic with “let me tell you something interesting,” both his eyes and mine would light up. I had suddenly become his favorite. Being valued by someone I admire and respect so much made me feel valuable. Although this feeling is completely unfamiliar to me, it made me feel good in an unhealthy way. That man became the father I had imagined. For the first time, I was encountering someone like this. My fear of men aside, I felt a strong sense of trust, being understood, and closeness toward this man. Maybe for the first time, I thought, “men can sometimes be wonderful as well.” My fears at school would disappear when he was there; on the days he was at the university, I felt safe. But this time there was the fear of being percieved as an idiot or a failure. He cares the exam scores too much. As you can see, my life has become tangled and everything is mixed up; this is not a healthy relationship either. I need every perspective, every solution, every approach you can offer.
With love, take very good care of yourself.
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I'm glad you and your sister like my blog, thanks for saying so.
Generally speaking, long-running issues with feeling "tangled up" in relationships could be due to a variety of factors, some of which may be interrelated, including: 1) lack of independence, 2) lack of healthy boundaries, 3) self-esteem or self-worth issues, 4) lack of social skills. These topics have been covered a lot, search the tags.
You are in university, which means you are an adult, yes? You do not think or act like one, though. As an adult, do you not have every right to make your own decisions based on what you believe is in your best interests? Independence, psychologically, means you do not allow yourself to be unduly influenced by extraneous or irrelevant forces.
What your mom and dad choose to do with themselves is none of your business. While your loved ones know you and may offer good help and advice, at the end of the day, you are the one who is responsible for your actions and must bear the impact they have on your well-being and personal growth. At the end of your life, you are the one who cares most about whether you lived it well.
It seems you have not given enough thought as to exactly who you are and what you want out of life, so you look to others for guidance, but it means ceding control to them. Do you want your well-being to always lie in the hands of others?
People don't get stuck for no reason. What is it you hope to gain from your entanglements? It sounds a lot like you want approval. Well, the cost of seeking approval is being reliant on the praise of others to boost your self-esteem and self-worth.
The antidote to low self-worth is self-acceptance. Examine the ways in which you judge yourself and why you need others to approve of you. Why can't you see your own potential and develop it? Envisioning personal potential and pursing it should come easily to Ni doms.
Generally speaking, INTJs are not approval-seeking creatures. Ni+Te tends to produce a strong sense of independence. Either you are mistyped or something has gone awry with your development. I don't have enough info to comment on either case.
It's not your fault if your father sheltered you or prevented you from growing up properly. As a small child, you don't have control over such matters. However, it is your fault if you allow it to keep happening as an adult. As an adult, the onus is on you to think for yourself and draw boundaries to protect yourself from harmful influences.
Healthy boundaries are derived from a foundation of self-respect. You must understand your worth, know your rights, and advocate for your needs. If you won't, who will? This is an especially important lesson for young women to learn because they are generally socialized into being too agreeable and accommodating.
As long as you are desperate for approval, you always leave your door wide open for bad actors to exploit your insecurities. Bad people do not segregate themselves by gender or religion. Bad people can be found in every demographic. You will never be safe from them as long as you are too easily manipulated by a few words of praise and encouragement.
Speaking of bad people, it's good you've realized that your father's view of the world is naive. This is generally a consequence of limiting one's learning to religious doctrine. Oversimplified thinking is a common symptom of poor critical thinking skills, and this can unfortunately be passed down to children through parental influence.
A lot of people prefer the world to be simple and easy to understand. That way, they don't have to expend a lot of effort to learn and they don't have to confront all the scary unknowns of the world. In other words, a lot of people prefer to live in a bubble.
However, the consequence of living in a bubble is being unrealistic. Your view of things is woefully narrow, and this will certainly make it difficult to make good judgments and decisions as you go through life. This is your father's legacy, but you don't have to accept it, do you?
Being unrealistic can have a terrible impact on relationships. Your father tends to "fixate" on people? And now you're doing the same thing with your prof. It's also difficult to avoid bad people when you don't see people realistically.
Your parents did not model healthy relationship behavior, which may have led you to adopt an insecure attachment style. I suggest you learn more about relationships so that you at least have a theoretical understanding of what a healthy relationship ought to look like. You may not be able to avoid every bad person every time, but you should at least arm yourself with the intellectual tools to spot them sooner rather than later, before you get in too deep.
You exhibit a tendency to idealize people, only to be blindsided by the truth later on. This problem can afflict anyone but is exacerbated by unhealthy N use. Your father did not model the right way for you to use N, so this is something you must work on, if you hope to avoid falling prey to the bad side of your N function. Consult the study guides.
University is a unique time of life. It ought to be a time of self-determination, self-exploration, self-cultivation, and self-insight. It ought to be a time of expanding your horizons, growing your social network, and exploring all the possibilities available, both professionally in terms of career and personally in terms of relationships.
One of the big disadvantages of living at home during university is that you may not be able to escape home influence enough to freely learn and grow and mature. Being aware of this constraint, it means you ought to make every effort to learn as much as you can about yourself during this time, away from the judging eyes of your father.
I'm not talking about living a secret life of debauchery. I'm talking about creating enough space to get the life experience you need for popping your bubble and reconstructing a more realistic worldview.
