A Journey

Today is the 24th of August 2025, and once again, I find myself in a state of uncertainty. Not that this is a constant state, but it seems to visit me often enough.

So, here I am, asking myself who I am — or perhaps what I am. I'm a white man in my fifties; of that I am fairly certain. But that's only the surface. Far more important is what lies within.
An interior that has made me feel like an outsider for most — no, all — of my life. There were brief moments, such as during my time in the Army, when I didn't feel so alien, but they were fleeting.

To be clear, I miss only the camaraderie and, to a lesser extent, the structure the Army provided — mostly the camaraderie. Even though I was fortunate never to see combat, the Army carries a certain aura, one you only truly experience there or in similar professions (police, etc.).
There are, however, aspects I certainly do not miss: alcoholism, or the games of war.

In 2018, I took four and a half months off work and rode my motorbike to Mongolia and back with some friends. In the preceding years, I had grown increasingly stressed and irritable — enough to necessitate a serious break.
The journey itself was rewarding, but I was so wound up that I couldn't fully enjoy it.

When I returned, I felt relaxed — but only for five to eight weeks. By early 2019, I had slipped into depression. The frustrating part was that I simply didn't know what was wrong with me.

After work, I did nothing. The first six months of 2019 remain cloaked in shadow. I must have eaten, washed, and done basic chores, but all I remember is sitting in my favourite chair, watching videos and films.
When I later rewatched those films, I knew I had seen them before, yet it felt like the first time — an experience normally alien to me.

Anyone who has suffered depression will understand when I say I lacked the mental strength even to ask for help. I couldn't bring myself to phone a friend.

Gradually, I began to feel a little better and sought answers. I knew I didn't have burnout; I had never considered myself more important than others, nor did I believe the company I worked for would crumble without me.
It was obvious I was depressed, yet I could not recognise it.

In 2021, I finally realised what was happening. Yes — it took me that long (a little embarrassing).
I had watched an interview with the German comedian Thorsten Sträter, in which he referenced another interview with Kurt Krömer, also a German comedian.
As I watched that video, something clicked. It felt like a huge weight had lifted from my chest: I finally knew what I had, and with that knowledge came the possibility of action.
Had I gone to my GP, she would have told me straight away — but, silly me, it never occurred to me to do so.

By chance, I mentioned it to a friend at work, who recommended his old therapist. Fortunately, she had availability, and after two sessions, I secured a permanent slot.

After eighteen months, I stopped therapy. I felt well, and the dark times had become fewer and farther between. They still visit occasionally, but never as intensely or for as long.
It seems common for INFJs and HSPs to experience these episodes sporadically or to be more susceptible to them.

I'm not sure if it was the right time to stop, and I sometimes think about returning — for different reasons.
During therapy, I noticed myself becoming increasingly sensitive. I had hoped this was merely a side effect of treatment, but it persisted. When I mentioned it, my therapist said: "You might just be very sensitive."
That night, I researched and discovered Elaine Aron's work on HSPs.

For about a week, my mind went into overdrive. One epiphany followed another, happening constantly — at work, while listening to music — and I loved it.
Suddenly, so many things made sense. I understood my reactions and behaviour across my life, and it made me smile.

As always, it is never just one person who helps you. A friend suggested two very useful strategies:

1. Create a timeline to place past events in order.
2. Give your negative thoughts a name.

The first helped me recall childhood events and organise my past, making analysis easier.

The second was pure gold. Negative thoughts can be overwhelming, but naming them allowed me to compartmentalise and filter them out. Sometimes I let them surface, just to see where they might lead — but always cautiously.

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Fast-forward to today.
Over the past months, I've found that the HSP label both fits and doesn't fit me. Reading Reddit's HSP section, the more I read, the less I identified as one.
This was disappointing because I thought I had finally found both an identity and a "place" where I belonged.

In 2023, I took the MBTI test and was classified as INFJ — a type with significant overlap with HSPs.
At the time, I felt well described, but soon forgot about it. Perhaps I wasn't "awake enough"?

Recently, I revisited the topic, researching INFJs in more depth. Many INFJs are HSPs, but not all HSPs are INFJs.

I retook the test on 16Personalities and the PRISM Ocean test. Both results were very similar. In 2023, I was INFJ-A; today, INFJ-T — which fits me better. The PRISM test mirrors the MBTI and is considered more accurate. In my case, both tests agreed. I have a rare personality, and even though it can be challenging, I enjoy being different.

There remains the question of whether I am an HSP. I certainly have traits of an HSP, but since there is a large overlap with INFJ, I can't be sure. When I read what people write in the Reddit section, I don't think I'm an HSP because the people there are far more sensitive than me.

Tests can never define you; at best, they provide a starting point. I will continue exploring typology and psychology, and perhaps one day I will truly understand myself.
Wouldn't that be wonderful? (I'd probably kick the bucket a day later :D )

And as Aerosmith said: "Life is a journey, not a destination."