LII and Emotions — The Monolithic Core vs. the Emotional Shell

I was asked to talk about how a representative of the LII type experiences changes in mood, how stable it is, how we respond to and are affected by external emotions, and how LII experiences emotions firsthand. People of other types often fail to see these traits in us or misinterpret them completely.

If we look at temperaments, LII is a balanced-stable type. And those aren't just empty words. Deep down (at least, this is how I perceive it), I feel very stable. Metaphorically speaking, there is a solid, dense, monolithic core inside me. It is durable and resilient—perhaps not so much rigid as it is elastic and well-grounded. On the outside, however, there is a sort of shell made of emotions and moods that can arise and change 350 times a day.

It’s like the planet Earth: it has a monolithic internal structure, surrounded by an external shell of the global ocean and the atmosphere. That is probably the best comparison for my mood and emotions.

Feeding on external emotions is truly vital. It feels like a constant craving. It’s like a battery that needs recharging because there is no internal resource for it. It functions precisely like an accumulator. I catch emotions from people around me or from circumstances; I can feel the general atmosphere of the room I'm in, and it fills and charges me up.

This works both ways—positive and negative. I easily tune into and absorb negative emotions as well. The only saving grace is that they fade away almost instantly.

The most frustrating part here is when you want to recharge with positivity, enthusiasm, or a boost of inner energy, you constantly feel like you are running just a bit short. You wish you could be more energetic, fired up, and explosive. But all of that is sustained purely by what you've absorbed from the outside.

Inside, however, the core remains incredibly stable. External impact hits you like a wave: the wind blows, things sway, you get filled up, a storm brews—and then, bam, it recedes just as quickly, leaving your inner calm intact.

To actually reach this core, a major impact is required. This also works both ways. If the core gets shaken, if it gets dented or nicked, fixing it takes a very long time. Restoring a compromised inner structure requires immense internal work. On the bright side, getting to this core and shaking it up is no easy task.

The outer emotional shell, on the other hand, is highly volatile. I switch on quickly, catching other people's mannerisms and emotions. I ride that wave, and then I drift away; the wave recedes, and everything fades to nothing in a matter of seconds.

Because of this, as I discovered not long ago, I am hot-tempered but quick to forgive. It’s easy for me to get intensely involved in an emotion, and just as easy to let it go. It disappears especially well through external triggers: if I switch my focus to work or another task, whatever negativity I felt just 10 minutes ago vanishes into thin air.

This lability of outer emotions is very convenient on one hand, because you don’t get stuck in negative states for long. On the other hand, there is a nagging sense of deficiency inside. You want to stay constantly charged with that emotion, but you can't hold the charge on your own for long.

This is roughly what it looks like if you try to describe a complex internal process from the depths of this type. Emotions require charging, and you physically feel that you lack your own power source. But in return, you have an inner structure, and you always know exactly who you are, what you are about, what is external (what blew in from the outside), and what is your own deep, internal self.

And this difference in the degree of vulnerability to external influences is crucial. The inner core is incredibly hard to shake, while the outer shell moves quickly, responds quickly, and burns out quickly. This is how I can describe the way I experience emotions and absorb the states of the people around me.

Source: O. Mikhevnina