Why Knowing Your Personality Type Can Be an Act of Compassion

Over the past two years or so, I’ve become more and more interested in personality types - not as rigid boxes that trap us, but as gentle explanations. A language for making sense of how we each move through the world.

For me, the MBTI has been the most useful of these imperfect tools. It’s helped me see the architecture of my own mind, and given me more patience with the ways in which I process life.

I fall broadly into the INTP category (Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking, Perceptive). But it’s not a perfect fit. My feeling is a tad stronger than many INTP profiles allow, and my extraversion isn’t negligible - it hovers close to half. Still, my default is unmistakably INTP in one crucial way: I need to see all the logic trees. I turn a question over from every angle, trace the branches to the furthest twig before I arrive at a conclusion.

To someone wired differently - especially a strong J-type (Judging) - this can look like dithering, or inefficiency. They want the decision, the conclusion, the plan. I want to wander the terrain first, see where all the paths might lead. It’s how I arrive at the bigger picture. How I make sure what I build stands on solid ground.

The reverse is equally true. J types, with their instinct for structure and resolution, can make me feel behind in life. Less capable, somehow. They’re decisive. Efficient. They look up the Google reviews before stepping into a restaurant. They pull up the local map before taking a walk. Meanwhile, I’d rather trust the moment. See where the streets carry me. Let serendipity decide. My need for flexibility and spontaneity - which feels like oxygen to me - can be intensely frustrating to them.

Knowing our types doesn’t solve this. But it does soften it. It reminds us these differences aren’t flaws, just variations. And that comparison is often pointless. A P-type will never feel as satisfied by a rigid itinerary as a J-type will, just as a J may never delight in the aimless drift that lights me up.

It’s also taught me not to be so hard on myself. Because personality is mostly default wiring. It’s not destiny, but it’s a deeply ingrained starting point. Knowing that helps me stop measuring myself by someone else’s standards.

And maybe more importantly, it’s given me more compassion for others. When I notice a loved one triple-checking our plans, or a colleague bristling at a last-minute change, I can see it as a natural extension of their type - not a personal affront. Just their nervous system reaching for what feels stable to them.

Personality typing isn’t perfect. It’s a shorthand, a rough sketch of infinitely complex people. But in a world that often pits difference against difference, it’s one more tool to helps us to understand - and be gentler – with ourselves, and each other.