The INFJ Door Slam – When You’re Out, You’re Out

I am part of the 1 – 2% of the population that is INFJ.

Don’t mistake my kindness for stupidity. Don’t mistake my empathy and compassion for naiveté.

Let’s talk about the Door Slam.

The INFJ Door Slam is self-evident.

There’s no committee. No appeals process. No dramatic finale. Just a verdict that lands cold but isn’t sudden.

A stick, a stone, it’s the end of the road…

You attack, over and over and unjustifiably, just to assuage your conscience. You do what you can to manipulate my relationships, robbing me of what matters most in my life. You act in bad faith, thinking I won’t notice, and you chip away at my trust, thinking it’ll slide. But I see it and I feel it, even if I don’t let on.

The way I eventually deal with the abuse is not reactive. It’s cumulative. It’s the result of a silent audit you didn’t realize was playing out. Because you over estimate your position, and where your own intellect tops out is where you think everyone else’s tops out too.

You poor Dunning-Krugers.

I gave you space. I hoped you’d prove yourself, I was waiting for some display of decency beyond your infinite self-absorption.

I explained your behaviours away.
I rationalized them away.
I gave you every benefit of the doubt available in the human imagination.

But I also gave you rope.

We INFJs attempt to rewrite your behaviours into something kinder. We will sit with discomfort far longer than we should. We have the patience of Job.

And what’s nuts is that we do this over and over, until you overplay your hand.

And that’s why, when the door slams it feels abrupt to you. But not to me.

What you’re experiencing is tangible now. Like an old rag doll with one eye missing, torn limbs, and stuffing coming out all over everywhere. This emotional burden is no longer tenable.

I’m not punishing you. I’m not trying to make a point. Rather, what you cost me is no longer acceptable and I’m done.

Not because I didn’t care.

Because I’ve cared long enough.