Name It to Tame It: Why Your Emotions Deserve a Seat in the Car
Let’s be honest: emotions are a little bit like pop-up ads. They show up uninvited, block your view of what you were trying to do, and sometimes yell at you about something you didn’t even know you were avoiding.
But in a world of constant notifications, comparison culture, and the pressure to be “fine” all the time, learning how to actually name and work with our feelings isn’t just some fluffy self-help idea. It’s a life skill. Without it, we get overwhelmed, reactive, and exhausted—like we’re running on an emotional hamster wheel.
This is where something called affect labelling comes in. Fancy term, simple idea: put words to what you feel. When you say, “I’m feeling anxious,” you’re not just making polite conversation with yourself. You’re literally rewiring your brain. The grown-up, rational part of your brain (the prefrontal cortex) lights up, and the overdramatic threat center (the amygdala) stops shrieking, “The world is ending!”
Think of it like this: your limbic system is the hyperventilating intern yelling, “Fire!” at the smallest setback, while your prefrontal cortex is the calm supervisor who says, “OK, let’s check if there’s actually smoke.” When you name what’s happening, the supervisor gets a turn to speak.
This isn’t just science—it’s basically Star Wars. Luke Skywalker’s whole journey was about facing his fears without being owned by them. Yoda—wise, wrinkly little space therapist—tells him the dark side is “quicker, easier, more seductive,” which pretty much describes how it feels to react rather than respond. It’s easier to snap at people, doomscroll, or eat an entire pack of biscuits than to sit with sadness. But that’s not where growth happens.
Here’s the thing: your emotions want your attention, and they’ll keep knocking until you open the door. But opening the door doesn’t mean you let them drive. Picture yourself in a car. Fear and loneliness can be in the passenger seat, but they don’t get to grab the wheel or pick the playlist. When you say, “Hey sadness, I see you,” you’re inviting it along as a passenger, not the driver.
So how do you actually practice this Jedi-level skill?
It doesn’t have to be complicated. Try one of these:
Use an emotions wheel (seriously, Google it—it’s like a menu for feelings).
Do a daily check-in: “What am I feeling right now? What triggered this?”
Journal it out—no filter.
Talk to a friend who won’t try to fix it, just listen.
Use language like, “I’m noticing I’m feeling…” rather than “I am…” (because you are not your feelings).
And if you’re thinking, “Great, but I still feel like I’m terrible at this,” please know that everyone does at first. You don’t learn to ride a bike without falling on your face a few times. This is no different. Emotional regulation is a practice, not a finish line.
It’s also worth saying: a lot of us grew up with messages like, “Boys don’t cry,” or “Good girls don’t get angry.” We learned to swallow our feelings to be acceptable. But swallowed emotions don’t dissolve. They turn into tension headaches, middle-of-the-night anxiety spirals, or suspiciously intense rants about how the dishwasher was loaded “wrong.”
Naming your emotions isn’t just about feeling better—it’s about showing up better in your relationships. When you can say, “I’m feeling overwhelmed,” instead of snapping or shutting down, you give people a chance to meet you where you are. It’s connection instead of confusion.
If all else fails, remember this: your emotions are not out to ruin your life. They’re just really clumsy messengers. They come bearing information—about what matters to you, what hurts, and what you long for. When you judge them (“I shouldn’t feel this way”), you double your suffering. It’s like having a broken arm and being mad that it hurts. The pain is enough without all the guilt frosting on top.
So the next time your fear shows up, try greeting it with curiosity instead of dread. Maybe even a little humor. If your anxiety had a CV, it would proudly list “Imagining Worst-Case Scenarios” as a core skill and “Waking You Up at 2 A.M.” as a hobby.
Invite the feeling in. Listen to what it has to say. Thank it for its enthusiasm. Then remind it you’re still the one driving.
May the force—and your prefrontal cortex—be with you.
