A Name for What I Am

The first 10 years of my life were undoubtedly unconventional. I mean, it's not every day the firstborn 3-month-old baby of missionary parents travels on the Queen Elizabeth across the Atlantic Ocean to Kasangulu, Democratic Republic of Congo. But what did I know other than I was being raised by loving parents in what I knew as my home? But I suppose this was the beginning of a life journey that would be atypical to those whose lives mine would touch.

Needless to say, after living in my "home" country for 10 years, it was a considerable shock for me to return and adapt to the United States. I mean in my eyes, Detroit, Michigan was the extreme opposite of my home in the Congo. I was now in a foreign country.

Over the next decade, I struggled to fit into a so called "normal" life. It is not that I was a recluse and stayed in my room all the time. I had friends and participated in social events, but I was always overly sensitive about what people thought about me and continually felt misunderstood. I was happier living inside the latest novel I was reading than participating in real life. Was I just having a difficult time adjusting to America? Was I adopted? Was something wrong with me?

Then, one day, I took the Myers-Briggs Personality Type test and it all became clear. I am an INFJ.