The Biggest Mistake I See People Make Isn't Feeling Bad, It's Believing They Shouldn't

Dr. Virginia Chow is a clinical psychologist at Theraspace.

A father once sat across from me and quietly said, "I yelled at my kids again." He wasn't asking me how to manage anger. He wanted to know whether losing his patience meant he wasn't a good father.

That conversation has stayed with me because it captured something I've seen repeatedly over more than twenty years as a psychologist. The greatest source of suffering isn't always the emotion itself. More often, it's what people believe that emotion says about them.

When I first began practicing, I assumed my job was to help people feel less anxious, less sad, or less overwhelmed. Over time, I realized that many people weren't just struggling with difficult emotions—they were judging themselves for having them. Somewhere along the way, they had come to believe that emotionally healthy people don't feel anxious, angry, discouraged, or uncertain.

I don't think that's true.

The emotion isn't always the problem

As we continued talking, the father realized something important. He wasn't ashamed because he had felt angry. He was ashamed because he believed anger meant he lacked patience, self-control, or love for his children.

Of course, losing your temper isn't something to dismiss. Healthy relationships require accountability and repair. But feeling angry doesn't make someone a bad parent any more than feeling anxious makes someone weak or grieving makes someone incapable of moving forward.

I've come to believe that many people confuse emotions with identity. Instead of thinking, "I'mfeeling anxious," they conclude, "I'm an anxious person." Instead of saying, "I'mangry," they think, "I'm failing."

Those are very different stories.

When did we start believing we should feel happy all the time?

I sometimes wonder if we've quietly changed our expectations of emotional health.

We're constantly encouraged to improve ourselves. We read books, listen to podcasts, build morning routines, practice gratitude, and follow countless wellness experts online. Many of these habits are genuinely beneficial, but they can also leave us with the impression that if we're doing everything "right," we should feel emotionally well most of the time.

Life doesn't work that way

If you love deeply, you'll eventually grieve. If you care about your work, you'll sometimes doubt yourself. If you're raising children, you'll occasionally lose your patience. Difficult emotions aren't evidence that life is going wrong—they're often evidence that we're fully engaged in a life that matters.

What modern psychology has taught us instead

One of the most encouraging developments in psychology has been a growing emphasis on psychological flexibility—our ability to experience uncomfortable thoughts and emotions without letting them define us or dictate our behaviour. Research on Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) and self-compassion suggests that emotional well-being isn't about eliminating difficult emotions. It's about responding to them with curiosity instead of criticism.

I often tell clients that emotions are data, not definitions. They tell us something about our experience, but they don't tell us who we are.

Feeling angry doesn't make you a bad parent.

Feeling anxious doesn't make you weak.

Feeling sad doesn't mean you're broken.

The question that changed my practice

One question has gradually become central to my work.

Instead of asking, "How do I stop feeling this?" I encourage people to ask, "What is this feeling trying to tell me?"

Sometimes anxiety points to uncertainty. Sometimes anger reveals that an important boundary has been crossed. Sometimes sadness reminds us that we've lost something meaningful.

We don't have to like our emotions.

But we often benefit from listening to them before deciding what to do next.

Maybe we don't need fewer feelings—just a different relationship with them

After more than twenty years as a psychologist, I no longer think emotional health means feeling happy most of the time. I think it means recognizing that difficult emotions are part of being human rather than proof that we've somehow failed.

The next time you catch yourself thinking, "I shouldn't feel this way," try asking yourself a different question:

"What if this feeling isn't evidence that something is wrong with me? What if it's simply asking me to pay attention?"

That small shift won't make life's challenges disappear.

But in my experience, it's often where healing begins.

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