The Problem with Always Feeling Good

Okay, confession time.

I love feeling good. The cozy, post-laughing-too-hard glow. The “sun hits your skin just right and suddenly you forgive everyone who ever wronged you” kind of feeling. The soundtrack-worthy walks, the satisfying crunch of a life well-snacked.

I chase those moments like a squirrel with a PhD in optimism.

But here's the thing: feeling good isn’t the point. Not all the time. Not even most of the time.

Now before you clutch your vision board and run for the hills, let me explain.

See, I’ve been diving into the brainy world of Dr. Tara Swart—neuroscientist, leadership coach, and full-on badass of the emotional-human-being sciences. And one thing she reminds us of (in her brainy, reassuring way) is that emotions are information. ALL of them. Not just the Instagrammable ones.

So if we’re only trying to feel good—like only ever trying to stay in a constant state of blissful, high-vibe, rose-quartz-tinted joy—we’re kind of missing the whole point of being human. Worse, we might actually be skipping over the data that helps us grow, connect, and yes, eventually feel better.

Have you ever tried to positive-think your way out of grief? Or gratitude-journal your way through burnout? Or just smiled so hard your cheeks hurt while your insides were doing interpretive dance in the key of “Help”?

Same. And guess what? It doesn’t work. Not sustainably. Not kindly.

Because emotions aren’t weeds to be yanked out. They’re visitors. Messengers. Sometimes full-blown weird uncles who show up unannounced with stories you don’t want to hear but probably should.

And here’s the kicker: none of them are “bad.” (Even the ones that feel like swallowing a cactus.)

That moment you felt angry? Maybe it was the signal that a boundary got steamrolled.

That wave of sadness? Maybe it's your nervous system asking you to slow down, to listen, to care.

That restlessness? Maybe it’s your intuition knocking on the door saying, “Hey, we’re not done yet.”

You don’t have to love them. But what if you didn’t fight them either?

I’m not suggesting we wallow, spiral, or start romanticizing our suffering like moody poets in a candlelit thunderstorm. I’m saying: what if we let the full range of ourselves be okay? What if we let happiness be one song on the album—not the whole playlist?

Because ironically, the more we allow ourselves to feel the full emotional symphony—awkward flutes and all—the easier it becomes to return to joy. Not fake joy. Not tight-smiled, people-pleasing joy. But the kind that bubbles up out of nowhere because you didn’t shove yourself into a box labeled “happy only, thanks.”

So… how are you, really?

What emotion have you been trying to out-run, out-smart, or out-breathe lately?

And what might happen if you just… sat with it for a minute? No judgment. No fix-it energy. Just you and that feeling, like two old friends on a park bench, side by side, watching pigeons do something mildly inappropriate.

Here’s what I know: We are not meant to be emotional robots. We are meant to feel, learn, evolve, and repeat. Sometimes that means dancing in the kitchen. Sometimes it means crying in the car. Sometimes it means both, ten minutes apart.

And all of it—yes, all of it—is part of the story. Yours. Mine. Ours.

So while I’ll always be down for a good-feeling moment (seriously, bring on the joy), I no longer make it the destination.

Because life? Life is big. Messy. Ridiculous. Brilliant. Tender. And the more I trust all of it, the more I find goodness that’s real—not just feel-good.

And that, my friend, feels like something worth smiling about.

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