I have a head-cold. As an ENFP, this means I feel like I'm dying. I'm convinced this is a fatal illness and I'm about five minutes away from drawing up my final will and testament. I also need everyone to know that I Am Sick. ENFPs do not suffer in silence.
This morning I've already called my mother to complain and I've also Tweeted about my misery.
[text] 8:45am Life is awful. Everything is ending. Bring soup.
[text] 9:23 am Why do u have to be @ work? Come home. I'm dying.
[text] 10:12 am Why r u ignoring me??? My nose id doo tuffy. I canned bweave.
As usual, an ENFP wants to be understood and affirmed--even in the midst of sickness. We're not trying to be whiny, I promise! We're just trying to make you understand how we feeeeeeel.
[It's exhausting, I know.]
Who wants to fwuff my piddow?
OK, I'll stop. But first--a picture from my sickbed:
Point is, ENFPs get through sicknesses by talking about it. A lot. We explain every little ache and pain in exquisite detail. We express astonishment at our lack of zip and zest (for an ENFP, lack of squeeeeee! is very strange). We repeatedly ask our significant others if they still love us. We worry about whether this illness will permanently disfigure our bodies.
In short, ENFPs are either highly amusing or endlessly annoying--depending on your personality type (ISTJs and INTJs find us highly amusing).
[text to my husband] 11:14 am If you come home from work, I will give you sex.
Here's something you really need to know: ENFPs cannot bear to suffer alone. We will do almost anything to get someone to visit us, stay with us, proffer soup and sympathy. ENFPs like an audience. We need our adoring public, thank you very much.
When all else fails, ENFPs try to find meaning in our suffering. Here I am on Twitter getting all philosophical and melodramatic about my head-cold:
[Who, me? Melodramatic? Pffft.]
Well, I have to go now because I just FINALLY got a text from my husband. He's coming home for lunch. And he's bringing me soup.
Thank GOD I married an ISTJ!