Including the ones you’ve been taught to hide, fix, or apologize for having.
The List I Used to Keep
I used to keep a list of “bad” emotions.
Anger. Jealousy. Sadness. Disappointment. Frustration. Anything that made other people uncomfortable or didn’t fit the “good vibes only” culture I’d absorbed from every wellness Instagram account I followed.
The goal was simple: feel less of these. Replace them with gratitude, positivity, and that elusive state called “inner peace.”
It never worked.
Instead, I’d feel angry about being angry. Guilty about being sad. Ashamed of my disappointment. Like I was failing at the basic human task of emotional regulation.
Read More: Self-Compassion vs. Self-Esteem: What You Really Need
The Question That Changed Everything
My therapist finally stopped me mid-sentence during one of these shame spirals.
“What if anger is just information?” she asked.
I stared at her. Information? Anger was the enemy. Anger was what I needed to manage, control, suppress.
“What if it’s telling you something important about your boundaries?”
That conversation changed everything.
Emotions as Data, Not Verdicts
Emotions aren’t good or bad. They’re data.
Anger tells you something matters to you. Sadness signals loss that needs acknowledgment. Jealousy points to what you value. Even anxiety—that persistent, exhausting companion—is trying to help you prepare for potential threats.
The problem isn’t having these emotions. The problem is what we’ve been taught to do with them.
The Jealousy Experiment
Last year, my friend Emma got promoted to a position I’d been working toward for months. Instead of congratulating her, my first response was pure, ugly jealousy.
Old me would have spent the next week berating myself. “You’re a terrible friend. You should be happy for her. What’s wrong with you?”
New me got curious.
What was the jealousy telling me? That I valued recognition. That I wanted to advance in my career. And that I was worried I wasn’t good enough or working hard enough.
All useful information.
I let myself feel jealous for exactly one day. I journaled about it. And I acknowledged that it sucked to watch someone else get something I wanted.
Then I called Emma and congratulated her.
Not because I’d magically transformed the jealousy into pure joy, but because I’d listened to what it was trying to tell me and could move forward from there.
Read More: What Emotions Actually Are (And Why Your Brain Creates Them)
What Science Says About Suppression
Research from Dr. Susan David at Harvard shows that emotional agility—the ability to navigate emotions with curiosity rather than judgment—is one of the strongest predictors of wellbeing and success. People who try to suppress or avoid difficult emotions actually experience more of them over time.
The emotions don’t go away when we ignore them. They just get louder.
The Apology Epidemic
I see this everywhere now. The friend who apologizes for crying during a movie. The colleague who says “sorry for being negative” after expressing legitimate frustration about a workplace issue. The way we’ve all learned to add disclaimers to our feelings.
“I know I shouldn’t be upset about this, but…”
“I’m probably overreacting, but…”
“I don’t want to be dramatic, but…”
What if we dropped the “but”?
What if we said: “I’m upset about this” and let that be enough?
Read More: The Difference Between Emotions, Feelings, and Moods
Lessons From a Four-Year-Old
My nephew is four years old. Last week, he had a complete meltdown because his sandwich was cut into triangles instead of squares. He screamed. He threw himself on the floor. And he declared it “the worst day ever.”
Then, five minutes later, he was building a fort out of couch cushions, completely absorbed in his new project.
He felt his feelings fully and moved on. No shame, no judgment, no story about what his reaction meant about his character.
We could learn something from this.
The Permission You Don’t Need to Ask For
Not the throwing-yourself-on-the-floor part (though sometimes that would feel good). The part where he didn’t apologize for having feelings. The part where he felt them completely and then naturally moved to something else.
I’m not suggesting we act on every emotion or let feelings dictate our behavior. I’m suggesting we stop treating them like character flaws.
Your sadness doesn’t make you weak. Your anger doesn’t make you toxic. Lastly your anxiety doesn’t make you broken.
They make you human.
And being human—messy, complicated, emotionally diverse human—is not something that needs fixing.
What emotion have you been trying to “fix” instead of listening to what it’s trying to tell you?
