A tool, not a label.
Not long ago, while casually chatting about work with my boss, she suddenly asked, “Is there a ‘J’ in your MBTI?”
I instinctively replied, “Nope, I’m a P.”
She smiled and said, “Then I guess you’re the kind of person who gets different results depending on when you take the test.”
I mumbled to myself but decided not to respond right away.
But recently, I came across a YouTuber interviewing an MBTI expert, and that finally pushed me to write this.
To be honest, I quite like MBTI as a tool. I also enjoy astrology, I Ching, and other forms of divination. But before I learned how to properly use these tools, I, like many others, once fantasized: Maybe if I knew my type, I’d find out where I was meant to go in life? Maybe others would finally understand me? Or maybe, just maybe, I’d finally feel like I belonged somewhere.
Take this for example: I first tested as an INFP when I was younger. Back then, I wondered—does this mean I should become a teacher someday?
But teaching seemed tough. Being around kids didn’t seem that easy, and dealing with parents? That sounded like a potential career hazard.
Besides, I was studying electronic engineering. If I really wanted to be a teacher, wouldn’t I need to get a master’s, maybe even a PhD, just to have a shot at teaching in a university? And when I looked at how professors lived their lives… well, it didn’t look like something I wanted.
So, was the result really that accurate?
Back then, I’d also heard that MBTI had no real validity—that it was just pseudo-psychology. So I took it for what it was: a fun personality test. I figured, there’s nothing wrong with learning a bit more about yourself.
And so, over the past ten years, I’ve explored quite a few tools—astrology, natal charts, I Ching with friends, psychology books, history, theories on human origin… The topics that fascinated me all seemed to revolve around one essential question: “What is a human being?” Or more personally: “What am I?”
Honestly, I don’t even know why I’ve been so drawn to this question. In recent years, I’ve even been reading Buddhist views on life and liberation. Maybe, for me, the most meaningful thing about being alive is to understand myself—and to spend a lifetime learning how to live alongside that self.
Last year, during a period of unemployment, I saw that one of the MBTI experts I’d been following was finally offering a formal course. Despite financial struggles and weeks of hesitation, I decided to sign up and took the official MBTI assessment.
That was when I finally understood the tool’s foundation—understanding innate cognitive preferences.
I came to realize that MBTI is less about telling you who you are, and more about showing you how your mind naturally works—especially in how you tend to react when something happens.
I remember during an interview for my current job, I asked the boss an odd question: “Do you think you’d enjoy a path that involves constant selling?”
Whatever her answer was, I remember thinking right after: “Wow, you’re doing it again—asking about how people feel.”
But that’s my natural tendency. I like understanding how others perceive things—what they value, how they feel about their choices, whether they’re satisfied with those decisions. For me, when I understand someone’s core values, I can better predict how they’ll respond under stress or pressure.
So does MBTI help point out this tendency? I believe it does. It’s a tool to understand preferences—not a personality verdict.
To me, MBTI is more like a mental checkup. It helps me figure out which muscles I’ve been using more often—and which ones I’m naturally better at using. Only, this exam is about the mind.
Take my earlier question to the boss for example. Because of what I learned from the MBTI course, I now understand why I’m so drawn to asking questions like “Do you like it?” or “How does it feel?”
It’s because, deep down, I want to experience life through others. Even if I can’t truly live someone else’s life, I want to understand it, imagine it, digest it.
MBTI helped me see that this is my habitual mode. It also pointed out my weaknesses—like getting too lost in imagination and struggling with execution.
Honestly, that’s why I’ve started keeping a journal these past few years. It was a response to my blind spot: seeing the trees but not the forest. I wanted to better manage the details, to stop relying so much on vague feelings, and instead look clearly at what’s actually happening—so I can know who I really am, and make intentional changes.
So back to the beginning—my boss said I seem like a J at work.
Maybe it was a compliment. Maybe it’s what society has beaten into me. Or maybe… just maybe, I’ve finally started walking the path where my “execution power” is no longer failing me.