Thought Catalog

Someone’s Pretending To Be My Wife: The Unsettling Evidence That Has Me Convinced

Posted: 11 Mar 2016 08:00 PM PST

Flickr, THOR
Flickr, THOR

I’ll catch Susan smiling at me for no reason. This happened more than once. We’ll be watching TV, just the two of us, like always. Then, with the corner of my eye, I’ll notice she’s got her eyes at me, not at the TV. Head turned ninety degrees my way, a frozen smile on her face I can only barely make out in my peripheral vision. Something unnatural about it.

And then I turn to look and she’s got her eyes on the TV again. I asked her about it the first time, she denied it. I was afraid I’d sound crazy if I pushed it, so I never asked again.

There were other things, too.

Susan had a twin sister. Died during birth. She never talks about it.

Just last week, I turned off my lights and closed my eyes, Susan was already asleep. I woke up in the middle of the night to find her side of the bed empty. I turned around and she had that same smile, by the side of the bed, watching me.

“Honey, what are you doing?"



Just the smile. She made way around the bed and nested herself under the blanket like it was nothing.

“How long were you standing there?” I asked. She didn’t answer. But her side of the bed was cold and the carpet was sunken in the shape of her feet where she was standing.

It didn’t start out this crazy — for a long time, I tried to convince myself it was all in my head. But it wasn’t. She was not Susan.

I started doing these little tests — that’s how I made sure. I’d put movies we’ve already watched on TV, just to see if she’d say anything. Started telling her stories that I told her already. She’d smile. Never called me out on it.

I asked her, point blank, one day. I got home and she was eating fish.

“Salmon?” I asked.


I sat on the table across from her. She smiled.

“I was talking to Principal Dawson about Sarah, today,” I said.


“Yes. Our daughter. Sarah."

She chuckled. “Right. What did he say?"

“Susan, our daughter’s name is Camille."

She stopped the fork halfway to her mouth and rose her eyes at me. Slowly set it back on the plate.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I’m going to bed,” she said, getting up.

I slept in the guest room that night. With the door locked.

I ran away the next day. Took Camille with me. We spent the night at a Best Western close to Needles, California.

“Where’s mommy?” Camille asked, just before bed.

“I don’t know honey. But if you hear anything — any sound at all — you wake me up, ok?"


I dreamt of a woman just like Susan that night. A woman that wanted the life of her sister, the life she didn’t get.

Camille woke me up in the morning. She was eating a cupcake.

“Did you take that out of the minibar?"

I paused. “Mommy was here?"

Camille nodded. “Yeah, she was standing right there by the bed. She was there for a really long time."

“Why didn’t you wake me up, Camille?"

“I was going to, but then Mommy went like this.” Camille put her finger over her lips and went 'shhh’.

I looked down. The carpet was sunken where Camille said Susan had been.

“It’s ok, daddy. She was smiling."

The following night we were almost out of the state, at a Bed and Breakfast by the border. I turned off the lights, tucked Camille in and waited, sitting in the armchair, in silence. I knew she would come.

It was dead quiet, and I was dozing off when I heard the hinges creaking. I opened my eyes and waited. The door opened in slow motion. She came in, no sound but the door. Walked to the side of Camille’s bed. That smile on her face.

I got up. I went behind her. She couldn’t see me, her eyes were locked on Camille.

“Come on, honey. We’re going home,” she whispered.

She didn’t look back. She never even saw the knife when I plunged it in.

The lawyer later would tell me I was awarded no bail, and I’d have to wait for trial at the mental institution.

“Capgras syndrome,” he said. “It’s a delusional misidentification syndrome, not unlike Fregoli. A disorder in which the person holds the delusion that a friend, spouse, parent or family member has been replaced by an identical-looking impostor."

I told him I was protecting my daughter. I told him that woman wasn’t Susan. Still, the newspapers all read ‘Successful L.A. Engineer Kidnaps Daughter, Murders Wife.'

He said I was looking at twenty-five to life, but the insanity plea might still come through.

They locked me in last night, my first night at the mental institution. Camille is with social services, they say. My room is covered in cushion material, from wall to ceiling — a padded cell, they call it. So I won’t hurt myself.

Took me a couple of pills to fall asleep.

Something woke me up just minutes before dawn. By the time I opened my eyes, it was dead quiet. I went to the door and peaked out through the little window. The corridor was deserted.

I looked back. Just by my bed, the cushions covering the floor were sunken in the shape of two feet. TC mark

Explaining Depression To Someone Who Isn’t Depressed

Posted: 11 Mar 2016 07:00 PM PST

Arnoldas Kubilius

Have you ever felt hunted inside your own head?

Like a predator is loose in there, stalking you like prey? 

Like there is a thing inside of your mind, a dark, dangerous, devious thing and it is stalking you. Your mind, a forest of beautiful trees and alive with birds and wild things alike, is eerily silent, a shroud of night covering it like a blanket on a too hot night – this is what suffocating is. But on the outside, you are breathing in oxygen as you always do. Your mind has sliced itself away from your body, and you have no control over what happens in there anymore. But you are still in this forest. You are alive in there…and there is a thing, an evil thing stalking you.

It starts to set parts of your head aflame, a forest fire threatening to take over you as it tries to smoke you out of your own head. Panicked, you are running, knowing you are being hunted, you are being chased, and you do not even know what the thing that is hunting you looks like. If you could give this fear, this terror a name, it would be better – a lion, a tiger, a shark, a thing that wants your blood and meat, nothing else from you, but this goes deeper. This thing wants every peaceful part of your mind. This thing wants to set you on fire and watch you burn, laugh at your ashes and then bring you to life so it can do it again. Or worse, swallow you whole and keep you in an abyss of eternal sadness inside your own head.

You are running inside the labyrinth of your mind, as it grows more and more complex, away from the thing, yet drawing closer to it, you can smell it the way it grows closer to you with ease. It doesn't even need to run. Somewhere in the distance in the hot dusty trail within this maze of a forest, you see the house, the place inside your head where you keep the softest, kindest memories. This is where you keep your cushions for when life throws you hard against the wall and you are lying bleeding on the floor. This is the place you must go to…Singed by the flames, you run faster and faster, the thing hot on yours heels until with all the strength you ever had, you throw yourself into this safe space with all the energy you have left within you and slam the door.

Panting, exhausted, you collapse, for the first time, feeling the rush of relief since it started its hunt. In here, you do not feel like prey. In here, you are safe. Until you open your eyes when you hear the breathing so close to you, the stink of its breath. It's in here with you, and your eyes open wide as you realise too late…it has devoured your already, all of you now belongs to it. And all that is left is darkness.

This is what depression feels like. This is what it means when someone says they have depression. This is what depressed people mean when they say they feel devoured by sadness, unable to escape the pain inside their own heads.

Have you ever felt hunted inside your own head?

If not…I envy you your good fortune. But please do not be unkind when I tell you about the monster, the predator that lives inside my head. TC mark

Loving You Was A Drug

Posted: 11 Mar 2016 06:00 PM PST

Christopher Campbell
Christopher Campbell

Loving you was a place.

It was a house that we boarded up the windows to, refusing to let daylight filter in and infringe on the intoxicating paradise we had gotten lost inside. It was the intimacy soaked into the bedsheets and seeping out under the doorways and captured in between the spaces that our bodies carved out through loving each other. It was a labyrinth inside which everything was stagnated and saturated with the scent of you, the sight of you, the feel of your skin against mine, it was a whole world we'd created and it was one I didn't want to escape.

Loving you was an adventure.

It was my heart beating straight out of my body, it was the universe bursting through your skin. Loving you was wine-drunk evenings and sun-soaked mornings beckoning us to go further, to push harder, to test the limits of all we'd ever known. Loving you was mountain peaks and sprawling valleys. It was lifetimes worth of sweet anticipation finally breaking through the core of your existence, it was all we only ever hoped to dream for, it was impossibilities come true. Loving you was the whole world on fire and we were burning. It was the chaos of all in our wake.

Loving you was coming home.

It was the whole world submerged underwater; it was peacefulness and stillness, it was purity and calm. Loving you was the impossible silence that brimmed louder than any noise I'd heard. It was the simple sensation of enough-ness with my heart beating quietly with yours, it was the whole world spinning wildly around us while we remained whole and untouched. Loving you was the only home I'd known, it was the first roof that I felt safe underneath.

Loving you was chaos and destruction.

It was broken glasses littering the hallways and vulnerability caking my skin. Loving you was the fear of you leaving like a rampant, infectious disease that I couldn't seem to pull from my system. It was the merging of two minds in a way that made it impossible to extrapolate my own, it was forgetting where your nerves and tendons ended and where my own began. Loving you was a madness that I couldn't get rid of. It was a chaos that encumbered my mind.

Loving you was the strongest, most incurable hit of a drug I couldn't wean myself off of.

It was early mornings wrapped up inside of you and evenings spent trying to break free. It was the push and pull of the world that existed outside of our destruction and the home I'd built inside your arms. It was an addiction that I couldn't cut clean from. It was an obsession that I couldn't quite quit.

Loving you was purity and passion.

It was chaos and calamity and calm. It was the pull of an incurable compulsion. It was the safety of a level-headed choice. Loving you was rawness and intensity. It was fire and brimstone and ice. It was the coldest freeze of winter. It was the gentle thaw of spring.

Loving you was all of the pain of being tossed from of Eden. It was the wonder of being welcomed back in.

Loving you was a drug. And it's one I cannot pick back up.

It feels too good to be clean. It feels too good to be sober.

It feels too good to be clear-headed and even-minded and moving forward evenly, alone. It feels to good to be no longer hooked on you.

It feels too good to have fallen out of love. TC mark

The Next Time A Man Leaves You Remind Yourself Of This

Posted: 11 Mar 2016 05:00 PM PST


He was meant to go. He was meant to disappear. The world wasn’t hurting you, the world was helping you.

That man was bait, a pleasure and distraction.

He was not even of your choosing. The two of you together was his idea. He came to you. He had the fantasy. He lured you in and begged.

And now you know that it’s not enough to be admired. Now you know you must admire a person before diving in and falling fast, too.

You want to look up for once and say he’s it. You want to have some skin in the game. You think there’s something special about chasing someone just a little, about going after what you want, about not being passive toward what captivates you.

You’re determined now. You’re determined to not let yourself be persuaded by promising talk and romance, by adventure and plans and future thinking anymore. When you fall in love again, you are going to fall in love with who that person is today, with what your relationship
gives you today, with how it has you feeling today. You pledge to this.

You know that what you can give is different now. It is greater. You know that you will love with more perspective and strength, with more certainty and still plenty of wonder. Perhaps most importantly, you will be discerning. The days of betraying yourself are over.

Life has tested you enough.

When he came into your world that was life challenging you, testing you, seeing whether you’d fall back on old habits again. That was the point of his being in your life right now.

Life didn’t put that man in front of you to see if you were ready for him. Life put that man in front of you to see if you were ready to overturn your tendencies toward illusion and smallness, to see if you were willing to summon up the courage to stand, for once, on your own.

Him disappearing was not a personal offense, that was the world taking him back, that was the world clearing your path.

He had to be swept away, he had to be eliminated.

He is gone, and that is a gift.

It means you’ve begun to live in new ways. His absence is freeing you.

You will remind yourself of this blessing, that you are not a victim who has been wronged by love but rather you are a person who is being looked out for, who has been thrown down because there was a bullet on its way. That’s right, you stumbled over love and dodged a bullet.

Because of this you’ve wound up only bruised. Celebrate this.Say thank you. Thank the world for looking out for you, for leading you down this wild and winding path. And while you are not always certain of what you are after or the many whys of the world, you know you can still trust
the world.

Say I trust you.

You trust that your freedom is your responsibility and you believe that freedom is coming to trust the state of things, including the shelf life of an affair.

You know that your beauty and the world’s beauty is held in everything you believe, and ever since he has left you you have begun to believe that where you end up is where you always intended to be.

I love this about you. TC mark

12 F*cked Up Internet Legends That Will Make You Close Your Web Browser Forever

Posted: 11 Mar 2016 04:00 PM PST


An intern at a Nickelodeon tells the story of a Spongebob episode that never aired — and was never supposed to be produced. The plotline follows Squidward getting booed at a clarinet concert, and then sitting at the end of his bed with blood dripping from his eyes.

I was an intern at Nickelodeon Studios for a year in 2005 for my degree in animation. It wasn’t paid of course, most internships aren’t, but it did have some perks beyond education. To adults it might not seem like a big one, but most kids at the time would go crazy over it.

Now, since I worked directly with the editors and animators, I got to view the new episodes days before they aired. I’ll get right to it without giving too many unnecessary details. They had very recently made the SpongeBob movie and the entire staff was somewhat sapped of creativity so it took them longer to start up the season. But the delay lasted longer for more upsetting reasons. There was a problem with the series 4 premiere that set everyone and everything back for several months.

By the time the animators were a few minutes into reviewing the episode they grabbed the creator, and inside the bizarre and disturbing episode, they found photos of murder victims. Nobody ever found out where the footage came from.



CreepyPasta / Abandoned By Disney
CreepyPasta / Abandoned By Disney and Delusions of Grandeur

Sometime in the 1990s, Disney sunk almost $30 million dollars into a theme park located in the Bahamas. Pictures of the park are posted all over the internet. Then overnight, they just abandoned it. They also abandoned a less well documented park they were constructing in North Carolina (that was similarly themed) at the same time. Disney then tried to erase the fact that either park existed, after pushing out some mumbly excuse about the workers being “lazy” and the island sands being too unpredictable.

But someone did a little digging and didn’t believe the “official story.” He decided to visit one of the abandoned parks and figure it out himself — and the truth might be terrifying.


Ted the Caver
Ted the Caver

Ted the Caver has allegedly set up this website to update his friends and family about his caving adventures. But things take a turn for the worst when Ted and his friend “B” go down a cave route nobody has gone down before — and that’s when everyone’s lives are completely turned upside down.

When we left the cave I was nearly in a state of shock. I could not think clearly and was having a difficult time trying to understand what had happened. I didn’t eat much nor did I get any sleep. I was glad I had the presence of mind to write down my experience while it was fresh in my mind. As I re-read what I wrote I feel like I accurately portrayed what happened in the cave that day. I wouldn’t change anything I wrote. Even though it took three days to write it, when I finished writing in my journal I felt much better. I guess it was kind of therapeutic. Unfortunately it didn’t last. In fact, it was after then that things got really bad.

As he digs deeper into the save, the spelunker began suffering from psychological symptoms, such as feeling like he was being watched and followed. He decided that he absolutely had to go back to the cave to confront what was torturing him, and that’s where the blog ends.



Youtube / IReadCreepyPastas
Youtube / IReadCreepyPastas

According to legend, during WW2 the Soviet Union embarked on some pretty inhumane tests to explore the very limits of human endurance. Placing five subjects (political dissidents) into a gas chamber, they filled the room with stimulant gas and told the subjects to stay awake for 30 days. What happened next will ensure you don’t get any sleep either.

Everything was fine for the first five days; the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.

After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself…

After nine days the first of them started screaming.

By the end of the experiment, the test subjects were eagerly eating their own flesh to staying awake, and they all refused to leave the chamber. When asked why, one simply replied, “We must stay awake.”



The Evocation
The Evocation

Not as much an urban legend as much as just a creepy AF internet destination.


The website goes on and on, just lines of random letters, symbols, charts, and occasional paragraphs. There must be hundreds of millions of characters typed on this website, but for what purpose, nobody knows. A commenter from several years back gave his thoughts:

It didn’t really creep me out until I got here. And then I clicked on one of the links, scrolled down it, went back and clicked on a few other. Every single one is ridiculously long and there are several hundred links in that index. Some even lead to even more indexes. This cannot be the work of one person, there’s way too much content, it’s way too deep and it’s way too creepy. I hope it’s just some sort of joke, but if you look at how much there is… it’s hard to imagine that being the truth.

The site has been around for over five years. Nobody knows why.


It generates new random content every single time you load it, with the same video of a dude tracing shapes on a projector based on audio instructions every. single. time.

Nobody knows what the hell this is.


This is the website of a man who professes to be the creator, your Lord, and your God. New updates are posted regularly (last one in January 2016) and the whole site feels…uncomfortable:




Flickr / Stephen Graham
Flickr / Stephen Graham

This story was originally a conversation between people on an internet message board. The Original Poster describes how she got on a train, but it never stopped at any stations, and then things start getting dark really quick:

This may just be my imagination… Can I post it anyway?

Go ahead.

What's going on?

I've been riding a certain train for a while, but something seems off.


I always take this train to work. But it hasn't stopped at any stations for the past twenty minutes or so. It usually only takes five minutes, seven or eight at worst. Oh, and there's five other passengers, but they're all sleeping.

The passenger eventually gets off at an empty Kisaragi Station and decides to walk the tracks until they get home. After a few hours, the OP sees a figure in the distance and stops replying to posts on the message board.



Look Catalog
Look Catalog

Basically some guy who’s a little short on cash decides discovers that if you can venture into some random house’s eight rooms, the owner will give you $500.

Even after meeting a man who became addicted to heroin and lost his marbles after trying, our hero decides to give it a shot. What happens next I hope, hope, hope is not actually true.

That was when he told me about the NoEnd House. It got that name because no one had ever reached the final exit. The rules were pretty simple and cliche: reach the final room of the building and you win $500. There were nine rooms in all. The house was located outside the city, roughly four miles from my house. Apparently Peter had tried and failed. He was a heroin and who-knows-what-the-fuck addict, so I figured the drugs got the best of him and he wigged out at a paper ghost or something. He told me it would be too much for anyone. That it was unnatural.

I didn’t believe him. I told him I would check it out the next night and no matter how hard he tried to convince me otherwise, $500 sounded too good to be true. I had to go. I set out the following night.

The Original Poster got through the first few rooms with no problem, but as he quickly discovers, the house doesn’t stop after the eight rooms.



Creepy Pasta
Creepy Pasta

In 1972 a woman stumbled into the Cedar Senai Hospital Emergency room with a blood-splattered white gown and a dead kitten clamped in her jaw. Her face was said to be almost entirely emotionless, and resembled a department store mannequin. She was entirely cooperative — that was, until someone tried to sedate her.

From the moment she stepped through the entrance to when she was taken to a hospital room and cleaned up before being prepped for sedation, she was completely calm, expressionless and motionless. The doctors thought it best to restrain her until the authorities could arrive and she did not protest. They were unable to get any kind of response from her and most staff members felt too uncomfortable to look directly at her for more than a few seconds.

But the second the staff tried to sedate her, she fought back with extreme force. Two members of staff had to hold her down as her body rose up on the bed with that same, blank expression.

Once nurses tried to sedate her for treatment, the mannequin woman rioted. By the time local police arrived to backup hospital security, only one nurse survived, muttering about a woman she called “The Expressionless.”



One Page Wonder
One Page Wonder

In a desperate email written to an old friend, Annora describes how — year ago — she stumbled upon her own Wikipedia page that always seemed to be one day ahead of real life. Annora enjoyed it at first, as the page predicted tons of her competition victories; that is, until the day it tells her she will die.

It started when we were in the 8th grade. It was the night before the Crystal Classic competition. I was at home and I couldn’t sleep because I was so nervous about competing. Well, I got on the computer, just sorta surfing the web and stuff, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything, I was just sitting there, so I googled myself.

I never should have done that, Bree. At first it was all the usual stuff you find when you google yourself, then I found a link to a Wikipedia page about me.

I thought our club made it or my dad or something, there wasn’t much there, just some basic facts about skating, what city I lived in, but the thing that got me was that it said I won that year’s Crystal Classic.

We only have the one email — so no one knows what happened for sure — but nobody has heard of Annora since.



A college student decides to return to his Nintendo 64 for some good ole fashioned nostalgia gaming. He tries to find Majora’s Mask — and old Legend of Zelda game — at a garage sale, and is given a blank cartridge by some old man. When he loads the game, he sees there is already a saved file named “BEN” and that is where the trouble begins:

After staring at the Majora-shaped blot, I looked up and the old man was suddenly there again, arms-length in front of me, smiling at me. I’ll admit I jumped out of reflex and I laughed nervously as he handed me a Nintendo 64 cartridge. It was the standard grey color, except that someone had written Majora on it in black permanent marker. I got butterflies in my stomach as I realized what a coincidence this was and asked him how much he wanted for it.

The old man smiled at me and told me that I could have it for free, that it used to belong to a kid who was about my age that didn’t live here anymore. There was something weird about how the man phrased that, but I didn’t really pay any attention to then, I was too caught up in not only finding this game but getting it for free.

I reminded myself to be a bit skeptical since this looked like a pretty shady cartridge and there’s no guarantee it would work, but then the optimist inside me interjected that maybe it was some kind of beta version or pirated version of the game and that was all I needed to be back on cloud nine. I thanked the man and the man smiled at me and wished me well, saying “Goodbye then!” – at least that’s what it sounded like to me. All the way in the car-ride home, I had a nagging doubt that the man had said something else. My fears were confirmed when I booted up the game (to my surprise it worked just fine) and there was one save file named simply “BEN”. “Goodbye Ben”, he was saying “Goodbye Ben”. I felt bad for the man, obviously a grandparent and obviously going senile, and I – for some reason or another – reminded him of his grandson “Ben”.

The student manages to get out of the game alive, but not before learning a terrible truth about the Majora Mask’s original owner. TC mark

You Made Me Feel Something Real Once, But Things Are Different Now

Posted: 11 Mar 2016 03:00 PM PST

This is the last poem I write
for you.
Your soothing voice
and the way your whole body shakes when you laugh;
it’s like your shoulders are screaming for applause,
wanting the whole world to see your approval.
Your deconstructionist attitude
and your shaggy blonde hair
and your annoying John Mellancamp pandora station.

These are things I don’t care about ever seeing again –
I’ll never listen to your records.
I’ll never drive by your house just to see if you’re in.
I’ll never let my breath get caught in my throat because you turned around to talk to me.
That’s not me anymore.

I’ve always loved your name
and I never held your hand,
but I’m okay with that.

You were so tall, I couldn’t reach you,
but you made me feel something real once.
And I thank you for that.

This is the
last sunset
and it sure is mediocre,
I found my real paradise somewhere else. TC mark

When An Empathetic Person Loves A Narcissist

Posted: 11 Mar 2016 02:00 PM PST

Unsplash João Silas
Unsplash João Silas

You were intensely charming, confident and passionate about your career and upfront about your struggles and flaws. You told me I was special. You knew what you wanted in a "life partner" and we clicked better than you had with anyone before.

You left a trail of broken hearts behind you but I was going to be different. You showered me with attention, thoughtful gifts, and an abundance of compliments. I felt so special that you had chosen me out of all the girls in your dating pool. Now I wonder if I was just the only one that was willing to work through your insecurities with you.

Everything was fast. Within weeks of meeting each other, I told you more about myself than I had ever told my closest friends and family. I finally felt like someone understood me and accepted all of me. Then it got tough and you left. And you put all of the blame, guilt, and shame back on me.

Sometimes my compassion is so bottomless that I feel everything too deeply. But caring too much is not a flaw. It's a gift. And you lost out on that when you let me go.

But here's what people don't know about you: you are so unbelievably insecure in your own skin. Where others see a big ego, I see internal pain and low self-esteem. When people really love each other, they discover each other's weaknesses and flaws and insecurities and accept them. And so I listened to you talk about your childhood and how that shaped you into the person you are today. I began to understand why you got easily frustrated with people and why you didn't have the capacity to understand that one person's baggage shouldn't be measured against another's.

You loved the idea of me. You loved how I made you feel. You loved the fantasy of what we could be. You liked that I admired you, I validated you, I understood you, I stroked your ego. But you did not love me. Even though I should hate you for everything you said and did in those last twenty hours, I can't do it. Because I loved the way you made me feel and I too loved getting lost in the fantasy of us. And I lied to myself about the reasons why we didn't work and, in turn, lied to you.

I longed for deep companionship, for that person that loved and accepted all of me. We wanted to be each other's "person" because we had a lot of empty space to fill. I lost myself in you and failed to stand in my truth. I internalized everything I was feeling for fear that I would lose you if I was honest, bottling it up until it was just enough to explode spectacularly in front of our eyes.

I can't let you go because letting go of you is letting go of the memories we made together and the way you made me feel. I feel like I learned a lot from you and I hope I gave you something back in return. I hope I taught you how to have a little more compassion and patience for people. I hope you learned to not let your insecurities overtake all of those amazing qualities that make you you.

I truly believe I got a different you than the rest of the world did and, while that sometimes makes me feel like you manipulated me, I feel lucky to have gotten to spend time with that person. I hope you find someone who is empathetic enough to understand you and worth working through the tough times with. And I know there's someone who will accept all of me. I guess it's just not you.  TC mark

20 INFJs Explain The Ways In Which They Defy The INFJ Stereotype

Posted: 11 Mar 2016 01:00 PM PST

Karl Fredrickson
Karl Fredrickson

1. “I enjoy time to myself (sometimes to an unhealthy level) but when I get together with certain people, I love being social – going to bars, clubs or just out to dinner. Once I get started with social interaction I can’t get enough.”


2. “I’ve personally never seen myself as creative. I’ve never been the idea-generator in a brainstorming session, and while I do love to write, my writing is marked more by clarity than ‘creative’ or poetic language. This always bothered me, in terms of confirming if I was really an INFJ, until I understood the cognitive functions better. I realized that having strong Ne/Se generally results in what we would describe as ‘creative,’ whether it be with ideas or a physical craft. But, Ni, which is what INFJs have, is better marked by its insight than its ‘creativity.’ This was really affirming for me. It’s not that INFJs can’t be creative in the stereotypical sense, it’s just nice to know that it’s not actually a defining feature of INFJs. I much better identify with insight.”


3. “Even though I can normally connect the dots, I feel far from ‘psychic’ – although I am both skeptical yet fascinated by the metaphysical realm. I also don’t think we are as rare as everyone thinks. I know a lot of other INFJs in real life and online. Other than that, INFJ stereotypes ate pretty spot on!”


4. “A lot of people classify us as being cold, super mysterious, complicated, psychic etc. But we’re definitely not psychic, just extremely future oriented. We’re also not cold, although in many cases it can appear that way. The only stereotype that I believe to be true, is that we’re complicated; but I’d rather be complicated than basic any day.”


5. “I don’t connect with the “wallflower” description – I am not and have never been quiet. I’m only weakly introverted – I’ve called myself ambivert for awhile – so many think I’m an extrovert because I have always been more curious and intrigued by people than quietly assessing and I love to entertain. But the ENFJ description has just never fit me. I get a read of someone initially, but then always quiz the person about themselves to hone and help them see the good I can see.”


6. “I often read that INFJs aren’t good leaders. However, I’m an excellent leader. INFJs just like freedom and personally, I’ve shied away from authority positions because I didn’t want to infringe on others’ freedom by telling then what to do and when to do it, etc. INFJs may also be scared of having power over others, because we know how much of an influence we can have on others (often called manipulation, although that’s not our intention). As a leader, I don’t play into the rule of the superior – rather the equal. Most INFJs lead in nontraditional ways, so our style of leadership isn’t recognized in the cutthroat world of business. We don’t lead from the front or from behind – we walk along side each team member every step of the way (Fe), offering them personalized advice and support to reach their goal (Ni).”


7. “I think that INFJs have the stereotype of being a dreamer – we’re supposed to be a paradoxical mix of idealism and practicality. I think that I am much more heavily bent toward the practical. I don’t ever get lost in my head and lose track of what I’m doing. My ‘dreaming’ is more like planning, because I think dreaming implies optimism, and I have a difficult time with that. Also, I think I tend to come across more aloof and rigid than warm and affirming.”


8. “I empathize very well but I don’t want to have to use physical affection (e.g., hugs) to make you feel better. I dislike touching. I also don’t think anyone would ever think I’m extroverted in any way shape or form. Pretty sure I would fall into the creepy side of the INFJ’s where I just enjoy observing people.”


9. “I’m actually very analytical and my tertiary Ti is quite strong. This allows me to enjoy the logical aspect of the world as well as the abstract.”


10. “I think INFJ’s get this reputation of being uber-sensitive and empathetic. I definitely am over-empathetic in a lot of situations, but it can be difficult for me to feel much empathy if I haven’t gone through it myself. I always try to understand, but understanding and empathy aren’t interchangeable. My ENFP wife, however, seems to be highly empathetic to others, no matter if she’s experienced a similar situation herself or not. So, there’s certainly a distinction between empathy as it relates to my INFJ-self and what I frequently read about INFJ’s online.”


11. “I absolutely hate when strangers (i.e. cashiers at stores) ask about my day. I have a career in engineering cause I liked technical subjects way more than humanities/social sciences enough that I decided to switch my major. Although I had mediocre to terrible grades in college and generally don’t learn well in a classroom environment.”


12. “The word around the block is that INFJ’s are warm, affectionate and just ‘know’ things about people before they happen. If you don’t know me outside of my very small group of friends, you would assume I’m opposite of all the aforementioned characteristics. In fact, most of the time I genuinely go out of my way to avoid deep conversations with strangers, despise when people want an emotional reaction out of me and the only reason I would ‘just know’ something is going to happen would be because I luckily blurted out one of the 1,001 potential sequence of events I’ve played out in my mind – 90% of the time, if I say it out loud I end up wrong. Apparently we’re also known to fight valiantly for our beliefs… yeah, no. Maybe I’ve developed my Ni/Ti so much that I can’t quite seem to be too sure of anything anymore, leaving me with a fragile sense of morality.


13. “I am not super clean or organized AT ALL. But when I am, it’s an all or nothing thing – either everything is clean, or nothing is.”


14. “I don’t get how people say INFJs are the most extroverted introverts out there and seem like they have a lot of friends most of the time. Yes, I can be a bit of an extrovert in social situations, but long periods of spending time with myself render my ‘extroversion ability’ rather useless the next time I have to use it. I need some time to warm up and awaken that extroverted-introvert part of me. And no matter how at ease I seem while being extroverted, I’m always hyper-aware of everything happening around me and it is exhausting. I also don’t have – or seem to have – a large group of friends (even on the surface). It’s just me, and maybe just those two or three other friends – and I wouldn’t consider them close friends. Not that I mind that very much, but the INFJ stereotype on this gets on my nerve sometimes!”


15. “I’m not a super private person, I actually like to share my experiences with people so we can be more intimately acquainted. Like, I don’t tell just anyone my business but it would be that. Also, I’m pretty trusting.”


16. “I WISH I was organized, but I’m not. I’m very messy and have tons of ‘piles.'”


17. “I feel like most people generalize is as having it really together in terms of organization, punctuality, and follow-through. In perhaps a negative way, I don’t fit these qualities.”


18. “I’m not always as quiet as we are made out to be. I am generally quite logical which I attribute to a strong Ti function – probably because both of my parents are IxTJs I’m good at math. Although I do need some degree of order in my life I’m not good at imposing it on myself. My living space is not always neat. It builds up messiness until I decide to clean it and then the process repeats.”


19. “Just because I’m intuitive, doesn’t mean I’m a psychic.”


20. “I seem to be more positive then other INFJs. I’ve noticed on INFJ forums, so many posts are negative. I understand why because we INFJs have it tough being so rare and misunderstood. But I try to see my type as something to be proud of rather than a liability.”TC mark


Pick up Heidi’s new book “How You’ll Do Everything Based On Your Personality Type” here.


10 Awesome Ways To Show Off Your Personality (Not Just Your Body)

Posted: 11 Mar 2016 12:34 PM PST

You're beautiful—but you don't confuse "beauty" with "looks." You associate attractiveness with comfort, confidence, and authenticity. As long as you get to be you, you're not afraid to experiment with a new look or to stand out from the crowd. Celebrate the perfect woman you are at heart with these amazing items that let you radiate individuality in so many different ways.

1. Not your typical swimsuit, not your typical woman.

Be yourself on the beach or poolside with a bright one-piece bathing suit for women who care more about who they are than how they look. Whether you channel your inner superhero with a Batman or Wonder Woman suit, or go with a one-piece printed with a giant smiley face or an American flag, you’ll stand out for all the right reasons in the heat.


2. Own your current mood when you wear a tank top that states it.

Why bother with a plain shirt when you can tell the world exactly how you’re feeling with a super expressive tank top? These affordable tees boast bold designs and fun messages like, “all I care about is pizza.” Choose according to mood.

emoji tank

3. A strong woman doesn't wait for a costume party to whip out the cat ears.

Headbands aren’t just for kids, and neither are rhinestones. There’s no reason a grown woman can’t adorn a sparkly accessory faintly reminiscent of a kitty if she feels like it. Spice up any outfit with this unique feline accessory. Meow.

Cat ears

Click Here To See The Remaining Must Have Items That Let Your Personality Shine.

To The Boy Who Emotionally Destroyed Me

Posted: 11 Mar 2016 12:00 PM PST

Unsplash Stas Svechnikov
Unsplash Stas Svechnikov

I want you to imagine this: a girl sitting on her bedroom floor, dry-heaving, her body convulsing with each failed attempt at silencing the sobs, banging her fists onto the ground as she tried to make sense of it all. Now, I want you imagine my face because that girl was me, and I was never good enough for you. I was constantly coming second to dozens of other girls. You made me feel completely worthless. You emotionally ruined me.

I don't hate you, though. Instead I want to thank you.

Despite it taking me months, I finally realized that it wasn't me not being good enough for you, but you not being good enough for me. These words have resonated with me for some time, and I am constantly reminding myself that I deserve better than the distorted perception of love that was handed to me on a tarnished silver platter. I deserve better than being ignored, I deserve better than being manipulated, and I deserve better than you.

I know I'm not the same girl that was on my bedroom floor that night, because I would never give someone complete power over me where I lost control; complete power over me where I felt I was worthless.

I was consumed by nothing but negativity, and for a while I thought you were my only source of light. I was drowning and every single day I woke up and hoped your hand would pull me up to the surface and save me. I was wrong. That night was the night I realized your hand was never there to save me, but instead there to push me deeper below the surface. The only hand I needed was my own.

You were my darkness and it took me too long to realize this.

I know you're a good person, but next time you ask yourself what it was you ever did to me I want you to think of the girl crying on her bedroom floor. I want you to think of the girl that couldn't sleep because the nightmares were worse than reality, which had become her own personal hell. I want you to think of the girl who couldn't eat because she had no appetite from the anxiety caused from thinking she did something wrong. I want you to think of the girl who hated herself so much she had to force herself to get up in the morning, only to crawl back into bed hours later. I want you to think of the girl who had countless silent breakdowns, hoping her parents wouldn't hear. I want you to think of all the things you never saw, all the things you never experienced, all the things that were kept hidden.

And now I want you to think of the person I have become, and I want you to know that I am thankful for you creating a monster. I'm no longer a monster, and I no longer have to force happiness. No more do I have to seek validation from others that I am worthy. I am thankful you were a part of my life, because you became the best & worst thing to happen to me.

I do hope you're happy, and just know I don't regret you. I would never wish for you to experience the same hell as me, I just wish you the same happiness that I can finally experience every day. Thank you for engulfing me in darkness, thank you for helping me grow, and thank you for pushing me further below the surface. Too many great things have come from that darkness. Too many great things have come from you. TC mark