“We will certainly test you with a touch of fear and famine and loss of property, life, and crops. Give good news to those who patiently endure.”
— QS 2:155
Fear is part of being human, and in Islam, we are reminded again and again that fear is not something to be ashamed of. It is not a sign of weakness, nor is it a flaw in our faith. Rather, it is a natural thread woven into the fabric of life; one that teaches humility, patience, surrender, and a deeper reliance on Allah. Fear shows that we have something to lose, something to protect, and something that matters.
As an INFJ, however, fear is not simply a passing feeling; it becomes an entire internal landscape. INFJs do not just experience emotions, they absorb them. They carry them. They analyze them quietly, often in solitude. Most of the time, people see the calm, introspective, compassionate exterior and assume we are strong enough to hold everything together. But behind that surface, there are quiet fears that live deep inside, fears rarely spoken aloud, but felt intensely nonetheless.
Today, I want to speak honestly about those fears. Not to dramatize them, but to acknowledge them as part of my humanity. Perhaps someone reading this has been carrying the same feelings without a place to put them. And maybe, in sharing them, I can remind someone that they are not alone.
1. Fear of the Future
My greatest fear is the future. Not the aspects people often talk about such as career paths, achievements, or opportunities but the fragile, vulnerable part of the future that involves the people I love. I watch my parents growing older. Their bodies move differently now; their energy fades a little more easily than before; their laughter, though still full of warmth, carries the softness of years lived. And every time I notice these small changes, a quiet ache forms inside me.
I don’t voice this fear often because it feels too personal, too tender. But inside, there is this constant awareness that time is passing, and I cannot slow it down. Whenever I hear news of someone in the neighborhood passing away, a subtle tension forms in my chest. I can’t help thinking, “That could be someone I love someday.” That realization alone is enough to make my heart tighten.
I still remember the moment my father coughed up blood. I was alone at home, just me and my mother. As the youngest child (because my younger brother passed away when he was still a baby 💔), I was never truly prepared for emergencies, I panicked. My thoughts raced in circles, and I felt a helplessness I had never known before. I contacted my siblings with trembling hands, feeling like a child who suddenly had to face something too big. Alhamdulillah, he recovered after seeing a doctor, but the fear that sudden, razor-sharp fear left a mark on me that never fully disappeared.
Every night, without fail, I make the same dua:
“Ya Allah, bless my parents with health, long life, and peaceful days. I do not need a luxurious life; I just want them to be safe.”
It’s a simple request, but it’s the one that matters to me the most.
Sometimes, I wish I could hold time in my hands, even for a moment, just long enough to make peace with the reality that everything in this world is temporary. But I haven’t reached that point yet. And maybe that’s what it means to love someone deeply, you fear the day they may no longer be by your side.
2. Fear of Marriage
Another fear that rests quietly in my heart is the fear of marriage. It’s not because I reject the idea of love or companionship. In fact, I believe in them deeply. But also understand that love, especially for someone like me, is not something I give halfway. When I love, I love with my entire being with loyalty, effort, patience, sincerity, and emotional investment. And that depth makes marriage feel both beautiful and frightening at the same time.
I’ve seen many stories; some real, some online about relationships that fall apart in ways that leave long-lasting wounds. Stories of infidelity, emotional neglect, dishonesty, and betrayal. As an INFJ, my heart absorbs them too easily. I imagine the emotions behind the stories, the silent pain, the sense of disbelief, the loss of trust. Those echoes linger in my mind.
I once confided in my cousin, telling her that my fear wasn’t about living simply or sacrificing certain comforts. My fear was giving everything I have in a marriage like my kindness, my loyalty, my patience only to be betrayed. The idea of loving someone wholeheartedly and then discovering that they chose someone else or lied behind my back feels like a wound that I’m not sure I could handle. She told me to pray for a faithful partner, and of course, that is part of the process. But even so, betrayal is something that often comes not from the absence of prayer, but from the weakness of human hearts. :)
What frightens me is the thought of sharing my life with someone who does not share the same values. Someone who treats loyalty lightly. Someone who takes my emotional depth for granted. Someone who assumes I will stay no matter how carelessly they handle my heart.
I can forgive many things, but betrayal that breaks something inside a person. And INFJs, known for their deep commitment, rarely recover easily from that kind of wound. That is why marriage, though beautiful in many ways, also terrifies me. It’s not marriage itself but the possibility of giving my heart to the wrong person.
3. Fear of Emotional Instability
The third fear I carry quietly is the fear of emotional instability. Not financial instability, not material loss, but instability in the emotional climate of life.
My family is simple, yes, but they provide a sense of peace that many people underestimate. There are no loud fights, no explosive conflicts, no emotional storms that leave the air heavy and sharp. Everyone understands their responsibilities; everyone contributes without being asked; everyone respects the harmony of the home. To others, our life might seem uneventful or plain, but to me, it is a sanctuary.
As an INFJ, I am extremely sensitive to emotional atmospheres. If someone is angry, even silently, I feel it like a shift in the air. If tension exists, it settles heavy on my heart. Conflict even small, short-lived conflict drains my energy deeply. It takes me hours or sometimes days to recover emotionally.
That is why I fear environments filled with chaos, volatility, or unpredictable reactions. I fear entering relationships or households where emotions swing wildly, where communication is harsh, or where peace is fragile. Emotional instability feels like a storm I am not built to survive. I long for steadiness not perfection, but a kind of emotional consistency that doesn’t threaten the peace of the heart.
I know the world will not always offer stability. People are unpredictable. Emotions shift. Circumstances change without warning. But the fear remains, not because I am fragile, but because I feel everything too deeply to exist comfortably inside constant turbulence.
Over time, I have begun to understand something important: fear is not a flaw. Fear is a reflection of love, attachment, hope, and sincerity. Fear shows that we cherish something enough to feel worried about losing it. When Allah tells us fear is a test, it is not to scare us but to remind us that life’s uncertainties have a purpose. Through fear, we learn reliance. Through fear, we learn humility. Through fear, we learn to value the blessings we often overlook.
I may still be afraid of the future, of marriage, of emotional instability but I am also learning. Learning to trust God more. Learning to strengthen my heart. Learning to accept that fear does not make me weak; it makes me honest. And maybe courage is not the absence of fear, but the decision to keep walking even while fear quietly accompanies us. 🤍
