For many people, MBTI is a language for self-discovery. For me, it was once something more practical: a career filter.

One of my early mentors used it to assess suitability for particular roles, the capacity to handle pressure, and whether someone was worth long-term investment. My result was INTJ. I was analytical, structured and comfortable with complexity. Emotional distance was useful in the environments where I worked. It helped me stay composed and make decisions.

Looking back, I can see that the profile did more than describe my preferences. It also resembled the person that environment rewarded me for becoming.

A different result, a different relationship with myself

When I took the assessment again years later, the result was INFJ. By then, my work and life had changed. Alongside leadership, communications and digital innovation, I had spent years practising and teaching mindfulness, yoga and slow resistance training. Coaching had also brought me closer to questions of identity, pressure and personal alignment.

A different test result does not, on its own, establish a change in personality. What interested me was the reflection it prompted. Had I become less analytical? That did not fit my experience. I was still capable of careful reasoning. What had changed was how exclusively I relied on it.

I began noticing that thinking could be a kind of armour. If I could analyse everything, I might not have to admit uncertainty or feel the complexity of a relationship. I was good at solving. I was less practised at staying with something I could not solve immediately.

Making more room for feeling did not require giving up logic. It gave me another source of information to consider alongside it.

What does your environment reward?

A personality label can be a useful mirror. It can help a team talk about preferences and misunderstandings. Problems arise when the mirror becomes a boundary: I am this type, so I cannot listen that way, lead that way, or learn that skill.

Our roles also influence which capacities we practise. A workplace may reward speed, certainty and control so consistently that those behaviours begin to feel like the whole of who we are. A different setting may make room for patience, relational attention or creativity. This is a reason to remain curious about the label, rather than treating a stable result as a problem or a changed result as proof of maturity.

For me, growth has felt more like integration than replacement. Analysis and sensitivity can belong in the same conversation. A leader can care about results while listening closely to what the room is struggling to say.

Three questions beyond four letters

Ask what your present environment rewards, and what it leaves little room for. Notice where competence has become a way to avoid being seen learning. Consider which feelings you dismiss as unproductive before checking whether they carry useful information.

A feeling does not have to dictate a decision to deserve attention. Frustration might point to a boundary; hesitation might point to an assumption worth examining. The work is to investigate, rather than obey or suppress automatically.

The question I return to is simple: who am I when nobody is evaluating me? It gives me more to work with than a fixed description of the person I have already learned to be.

Source & publication

Originally published February 16, 2026 · Updated October 27, 2026. This essay is part of Joe Peng’s writing archive.

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