You Don’t Always Have to Know What You’re Feeling

Sometimes someone asks, “What’s wrong?” and you genuinely don't know.

You know you're not quite yourself.

You're more irritable than usual. A little distant. Tired, but not exactly tired.

You feel like something is sitting in the background of your mind, but you can't quite put your finger on what it is. And then comes the uncomfortable part. You feel like you should know.

We want our feelings to make sense

We're quite used to treating emotions as problems that need to be solved.

If we're upset, we want to know why.

If we're anxious, we want to know what we're anxious about.

If we're angry, we want to know who or what we're angry with.

There's something reassuring about having an explanation, it makes the feeling feel more manageable.

But emotions don't always arrive with a neat explanation.

Sometimes you notice the feeling first and the understanding comes much later.

Not everything becomes clear immediately

I've noticed how often people apologise when they can't explain what they're feeling.

“I don't know what's wrong with me.”

“I can't even explain why this is bothering me.”

“I know something is off, but I don't know what.”

As though not having the words means they're not paying enough attention.

I don't think that's necessarily true.

Sometimes we're still figuring it out, sometimes we're too overwhelmed to make sense of it, sometimes several things are happening at once. And sometimes the feeling is connected to something we haven't consciously understood yet.

We can rush ourselves into an answer

There's a particular kind of pressure that comes with not knowing.

You start searching for reasons.

Maybe it's work. Maybe it's the relationship. Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe I'm overthinking. Maybe something happened that I haven't noticed.

And sometimes that search is useful, but sometimes it becomes another thing to do.

Another problem to solve.

Another way of trying to get ourselves back to feeling "normal."

I wonder if there are moments when we could simply let ourselves say, “I don't know yet.”

Feelings can unfold slowly

Not everything needs to be understood in the moment that we experience it.

Sometimes you need a little distance.

A conversation. A quiet evening. A good night's sleep. A walk.

A few days of noticing what's been happening, and suddenly something that felt vague becomes a little clearer.

You realise you've been disappointed. Or overwhelmed. Or missing someone. Or carrying more responsibility than you realised.

The feeling was there before you had the words for it. The words just took some time to catch up.

Not knowing doesn't mean you're disconnected from yourself

I think there's a misconception that being self-aware means always knowing exactly what you're feeling and why.

I'm not sure it works that way.

Sometimes self-awareness is simply noticing:

Something feels different today.

And leaving it there for a while.

You don't have to immediately turn it into an explanation. You can be curious without demanding an answer.

Sometimes the question can wait

There are days when we don't need to figure ourselves out.

We just need to notice that we're having a difficult day.

Maybe we need more rest. Maybe we need some space. Maybe we need someone around us. Maybe we don't know what we need yet either.

That's okay. Understanding doesn't always come from thinking harder; it in fact, comes from giving ourselves enough room for something to become clear.

A little something

I've become increasingly comfortable with the idea that some feelings need time before they make sense.

Not everything has to be named immediately.

Not every emotion needs a reason before it can be acknowledged.

Sometimes we can simply say:

Something is going on with me. I don't quite know what it is yet, and I don't have to know today. I can just be.

Maybe that's what simply is part of self-awareness.