Over the last few years, I’ve learned a lot of valuable lessons about myself as an INFJ. Perhaps chief among them is this: I truly have to guard my emotional and physical energies; when they are depleted, it takes time to recover. And that time usually has to be spent alone, often in silence. For me, it means turning down the sensory input, like lowering the volume ten or twenty notches. Or a hundred. When I try to go on without recovering, my walls are down, my guards are off-duty, and things can go sideways fast. These are the moments where the words above ring especially true.

I suppose the whole thing is like the gas tank of a car. If I've slept hard, had my morning quiet time, exercised wisely, and eaten well, my tank is full and I’m good to go! But when I neglect those things and make poor choices, that's when the troubles start. If my tank is only half full in the morning, I have to be careful about how I use my resources and how much of my energy I give to others.

I’ve been a public school teacher for quite some time. The profession, by its very nature, involves a lot of people and an enormous commitment of time and energy. During the long winter months, I arrive at school before the sun has dared peek over the horizon and I return home after it has completed its short trek across the sky.

It doesn’t happen often at school (if it does, it’s the last few hours of the week), but when my tank is empty, it's pretty obvious. I mean, my normal approach is high-energy and bad dad jokes. In these moments of stark contrast, my students show concern and ask questions like, “Are you depressed?” This is actually quite touching, because they care about my well-being, as I do theirs.

It can be hard to explain, but no, I’m not depressed. Though I understand that’s how it looks: extremely low energy, low output, sputtering along. I’m on “E”. Some of them understand being exhausted, or “on empty,” in a sense. Maybe the kiddos who work hard on the farm and know what exhaustion is. Or maybe the intense introverts stuck in the same scholastic social grind as everyone else; I know many of them would rather crawl under a rock and hide for a while.

I will confess that there have been times in my life when I have been so depleted, yet forced by circumstance or necessity to continue, that it was only through sheer willpower and mental fortitude that I could do so. Inevitably, the crash came—a wreck of physical and emotional exhaustion that required sleeping for about twenty straight hours and a great deal of self-care to recover.

So, to my fellow INFJs out there, or anyone who can relate with this, I encourage you to guard your time and energy, make wise choices about how you refill your tank each day. Be healthy and active, but always with balance and moderation.