How One Book Changed My Relationship with Emotions

I vividly recall the evening I downloaded "How Emotions Are Made" by Dr. Lisa Feldman Barrett. It wasn't an extraordinary night—just one of those quiet evenings when the world outside feels still, but something within you begins to stir.

Earlier that day, I had an argument. It was nothing catastrophic—just a low hum of tension that lingered, like a song I couldn't shake. I felt irritated, tired, and strangely disconnected. My chest was heavy. My thoughts, foggy.

I opened the book not out of curiosity but out of a deep need—to feel differently. What I discovered transformed my thinking.

The Sentence That Changed Everything

Within moments, I was captivated. Dr. Barrett's calm, clear, yet radical voice resonated with me. One particular idea opened something in me: "Emotions are not hardwired. They are not reactions you discover. They are concepts your brain constructs."

I read that line again and again. For most of my life, I had considered myself to be "emotional." Overly sensitive, too reactive—someone who cries easily and feels too deeply without understanding why. I viewed this as a flaw, something wrong with my wiring.

But this book revealed a different narrative. It explained that the brain doesn't merely receive reality; it constructs it—including our emotions.

Emotions as Meaning-Making

According to Dr. Barrett, emotions aren't fixed programs. They are your brain's best guess, making meaning from your body, past experiences, culture, and even vocabulary. I paused, set the book down, and embraced the stillness. If that were true... perhaps I wasn't broken. Maybe I was misreading the messages my body was sending. I may have required a new language, not just new coping strategies.

Slow Reading, Deep Learning

I didn't rush through the book. It became my cherished companion for a week. I read it in stolen moments—on the bus, before bed, during lunch breaks. Even five minutes felt like therapy. I underlined passages and took notes, pausing after each chapter to let the ideas sink in.

Then, the concept that truly resonated: emotional granularity—the ability to name feelings with nuance. The more precise your emotional vocabulary, the better your brain can regulate your experience.

Suddenly, I understood the problem. I had collapsed countless emotions into one word: "anxiety." I lacked the words to express: "This is the tension of unspoken expectations." "This is the ache of missing." "This is the overwhelm of holding too much without rest."

A Quiet, Daily Practice

After finishing the book, I created a phone note titled: "What Am I Actually Feeling?" It became a small ritual. Whenever discomfort surfaced, I paused to name it—not vaguely, but precisely. I didn't just write "sad." I wrote: "a soft, hollow ache in my chest, like missing something I can't name." Not "angry," but "pulled in too many directions, with no space to breathe."

The shift was subtle yet profound. Instead of spiraling into my feelings, I began standing beside them—observing, listening, creating space. The book didn't eliminate my sadness—but it transformed my relationship with it.

Emotions Are Cultural, Too

One unexpected idea I cherished: emotions are not universal; they're shaped by culture, history, and language. This realization softened me—toward myself and others. I began listening differently—to myself and the people I love.

One evening, a friend expressed feeling "numb." Instead of offering advice, I asked, "Where do you feel it in your body?" She replied, "Like a static hum. Like I'm unplugged." I realized that wasn't numbness. That was a metaphor waiting to be understood.

A New Way of Relating

Reading "How Emotions Are Made" granted me metaphors, questions, and tools. I no longer ask only "What am I feeling?" but also, "What story is my brain trying to write?" I pause between the trigger and reaction, asking, "What am I predicting? What memory is shaping this moment?" Sometimes, that pause is enough.

I'm not less emotional now. I'm more compassionate toward my emotions. That was the true gift of the book—not fewer feelings, but a kinder way to embrace them.

A Reminder for Anyone Who Feels Too Much

If you've ever felt that your emotions are too loud, heavy, or unpredictable, I hope this offers a new perspective. You are not broken. You're simply human, and your brain strives to make sense of a complex, layered world.

Emotions are not flaws in your design. They are stories your body seeks to tell. When you truly listen, they reveal something profound.