Buckle Up, Buttercup!
Do most of us react too emotionally too much of the time?
I’m sorry — I didn’t mean for that to sound like a question.
Look, I don’t need a psychology textbook for this one.
I live it. I always have.
So buckle up, buttercup.
Here’s the truth:
Most people move through the world on pure emotional impulse.
They don’t think — they feel, and then they reverse-engineer the thinking to justify whatever the feeling already decided.
Emotion fires first.
Reason shows up late carrying a coffee and an excuse.
Watch anyone — a parent in a grocery store, a teenager who didn’t get invited somewhere, a grown adult stuck in traffic — and you’ll see it. The reaction hits before the brain even clocks in:
A twitch of the jaw.
A flare in the chest.
A tightening behind the eyes.
A sentence forming that they should NOT say — but will.
People love to believe they’re rational.
They’re not.
They’re reactors.
And I know this firsthand, because it happened to me — recently.
The other night my son showed interest in something I’m passionate about.
He leaned in. He was curious.
And I lit up — because isn’t that what every father wants?
To share something you love with your kid?
So I showed him the process.
Step by step.
Proud. Eager. Totally open.
And he didn’t get it.
Worse — he dismissed it.
Belittled it a little.
Not because he’s cruel — he’s sixteen. His “dick card” came in the mail on his birthday. That’s just how sixteen-year-old boys operate.
But I felt it.
In the gut.
That tiny emotional bruise that tells you something you care about wasn’t seen.
And the reaction started rising — that tight chest, that flare in the stomach, that old familiar heat.
I was hurt.
I was upset.
And I was ready to react.
But before the emotion completely took over, something else spoke up in my head:
I don’t want to explain this right now.
He didn’t mean it.
He’s a kid.
Let it go.
So I did.
I dropped it.
I let myself be the asshole in the moment — even though I was the one hurting — because I knew what was what.
It was easier to let it go than to let emotion steer the wheel.
We act so viscerally so much of the time, when really what we need is distance.
A breath.
A pause.
A little bit of quiet between the spark and the flame.
You really want to be emotional during an argument?
That always leads to problems.
When you feel everything all the time, you challenge everyone and everything all the time.
Emotion becomes anger, hate, and suffering — everything George Lucas warned us about.
But here’s the thing:
Save your emotions.
Save them for a good book.
For a great movie.
For your kids’ accomplishments.
Save them for when you’re between the sheets with the one person who makes you happiest in this world.
You’ll feel it all so much stronger, and your life will feel fuller.
Detaching from your emotions doesn’t make you a monster.
It makes you clear.
It makes you a better communicator.
It can even make you more empathetic — because reason and logic are forms of empathy. They’re steady. They’re generous. They’re patient.
But if you’d rather go around yelling at strangers, be my guest.
Just do me one thing before you do:
Fact check me.