Dumbass Diaries: When I Learned My Emotions Needed a Better Dictionary

There’s a particular kind of realization that doesn’t kick the door down, doesn’t announce itself with fireworks or violins, but instead walks in quietly, sits across from you, and waits for you to notice that something has been off for a very long time. This was one of those moments. Not dramatic. Not cinematic. Just deeply inconvenient in the way truth tends to be.

I had spent years believing I understood myself reasonably well. I could explain ideas, teach concepts, break down movement, even navigate complex conversations with a certain level of confidence. And yet, when it came to the simplest question—“How are you feeling?”—I responded like a man trying to describe a symphony with a kazoo.

Good.

Bad.

Stressed.

Fine.

“Fine,” of course, being the most dishonest word ever socially accepted without question. It’s the word people use when they don’t want to lie, but also don’t want to tell the truth. It’s emotional camouflage. It says, “Nothing to see here,” while everything inside is rearranging furniture and knocking over lamps

.

And that was the extent of it. Four or five emotional settings, like a microwave with broken buttons. No nuance. No range. Just reheated reactions.

The problem wasn’t that I didn’t feel deeply. It was that I didn’t speak deeply about what I felt. There’s a difference. A big one. The kind of difference that sneaks into your relationships, your decisions, your sense of self, and quietly starts rearranging things without your permission.

Because if you don’t have the words, your mind fills in the blanks… and it doesn’t do a great job. It lumps things together like a lazy accountant.

Everything becomes stress.Everything becomes frustration.Everything becomes “something’s off.” Meanwhile, under the surface, there’s a much more honest conversation trying to happen. Not stress… but overwhelm.Not anger… but disappointment.Not irritation… but feeling ignored and not knowing how to say it.

And without the vocabulary, all of it gets compressed into one blunt, unhelpful reaction. Like calling every color “blue” and wondering why nothing matches.