The Pressure to Always Have a Reason

Something I've noticed over the years is how quickly people try to explain their feelings. Before they've even finished telling me what happened, they're already apologising for how they reacted.

"I know it sounds silly..."

"I probably shouldn't be upset about this."

"Other people have much bigger problems."

It's almost as though the feeling isn't allowed to exist until it's been justified, and i’ve always found that so interesting.

In such few words, it says something about the relationship many of us have with our own emotions.

We often believe our feelings need permission

Somewhere along the way, many of us learn that certain emotions are more acceptable than others.

If there's a clear reason to feel hurt, then being hurt feels acceptable.

If there's a logical explanation for anxiety, then anxiety feels easier to admit.

If someone else agrees that something was difficult, then perhaps we're allowed to struggle with it.

But if the reason feels too small, simple, ordinary, or difficult to explain - we start questioning ourselves instead.

"Am I overreacting?"

"Why is this bothering me so much?"

“Nobody else would be this bothered by it.”

Instead of becoming curious about what we're experiencing, we become busy building a case for why we're allowed to experience it.

Feelings don't always arrive with neat explanations

One of the things I appreciate most about working with people is being reminded that emotions are rarely as tidy as we'd like them to be.

Sometimes you're upset by something you can't fully explain.

Sometimes a small moment carries a much bigger emotional weight than you expected.

Sometimes your body notices that something feels unsafe long before your mind has found the words for it.

That, in no way make the feeling less real. All it means is that human beings are more complex than simple cause and effect.

We can spend so much energy arguing with ourselves

I've noticed that many people don't just experience difficult emotions.

They debate them.

They negotiate with them.

They try to convince themselves they shouldn't be feeling what they're feeling.

Ironically, that argument often becomes more exhausting than the emotion itself cause now you're carrying both - the feeling and the responsibility of proving it's justified.

What if you didn't have to make a case?

I'm not suggesting that every feeling tells us exactly what to do.

Emotions are important, but they aren't instructions. They can be influenced by stress, old experiences, lack of sleep, uncertainty, or countless other things. Perhaps, they don't need a courtroom and simply be noticed before they're judged?

Maybe then, the first question isn't, "do I have a good enough reason to feel this?"

Maybe it's, "what might this feeling be trying to show me?"

There's a very different quality to those two questions.

One asks you to defend yourself.

The other invites you to understand yourself.

A little something

I wonder how much energy we would save if we stopped trying to earn the right to have our own emotions.

Not every feeling needs a perfect explanation, and not every reaction needs a defence.

Sometimes, the kindest thing we can do is acknowledge that something affected us - even if we don't completely understand why yet.

Understanding often comes later. Permission doesn't have to.