Ten years ago, I took the Myers-Briggs test for the first time. The result? INFJ – The Advocate. And honestly, it was like being handed a manual to my brain. Suddenly all the weird little quirks I’d been carrying around weren’t weird at all - they were personality traits. Fancy ones.

For the first time, I felt understood. Like, oh hey, you mean not everyone enjoys mentally preparing for phone calls 24 hours in advance? Or replays awkward conversations from three years ago like a cringe highlight reel? Just me and the INFJ crew? Cool cool cool.

Everything about INFJ resonated. The introspection. The need for meaning. The deep thinking. The please stop talking to me, I’m recharging my soul in peace vibe. For the first time, I felt like someone had switched the light on inside my head and gone, “Hey, you’re not weird. You’re just wired like this.”

The results gave me permission to stop pretending I was ever going to be the loudest voice in the room or the life of the party - and instead start appreciating what I am: thoughtful, creative, empathetic, and yes, emotionally dramatic from time to time (it’s part of the charm).

Fast-forward 10 years (?!), and a lot has changed. I’ve grown, been pushed, stretched, wrung out and rebuilt again. I’ve said yes to things I once would’ve run from. I’ve built confidence, found my voice, and even sprinkled in a few extrovert traits here and there. So naturally, I was curious… was I still an INFJ?

I took the test again.

Some answers were still a firm, nope. Like “You can happily walk up to a stranger and start a conversation” – uh, hard pass. Still my nightmare.

Others had shifted. “You prefer solo hobbies to team hobbies”? Ten years ago, that was a screaming YES. Now, it’s more of a meh, depends on who’s in the team. Growth!

I’ve become more assertive, more open, more comfortable in my own skin. I speak up even when it’s awkward. I challenge things. I know my worth.

In these elements, sometimes it’s hard to even compare today’s Illesse to Illesse back then.

So imagine my shock when the test spat out the exact same four letters: INFJ.

Excuse me, what?

I blinked at the screen like it had personally attacked me.

It honestly left me reeling for a second; who I am now and who I was back then are worlds apart. And yet, at my core, still innately the same it would seem?

But then it hit me.

I am still the Illesse from 10 years ago. I am she, and she is me. Always will be.

My growth has been so much more than the changing of letters.

I am still an INFJ. Just… an upgraded one. INFJ 2.0 with stronger boundaries, better Wi-Fi, and the occasional small group hangout. I haven’t changed so much as evolved. The core is still there: the empathy, the creativity, the craving for meaningful connection. I’m just more… me now.

Taking the test again didn’t undo the growth. It highlighted it. Because I’m not afraid to take up space anymore. I’m not afraid to shine anymore.

And shine I will.