#real philosophizin' hours around here

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

Whenever I say that emotions are shitty liars and we should spend less time Validating them and more time exposing their calumny, people always want to make the distinction that feelings are always valid, only your reaction to the feelings can be judged. And the problem is that's true if you're arguing about "validity" as a moral category, which I am not because I don't give a shit about that.

And that's in some sense a privileged position that I have! Not in the sense of privilege as institutional power, but just like -- good fortune. I was raised in the Free To Be You and Me era, by hippies with advanced psychology degrees and Mr. Rogers. I already know that it's "valid" to experience negative emotions, in the sense of "normal and inevitable" and also in the sense of "thought crime is fake." I know some people were acculturated into an extremely different belief system that prioritized pure thoughts and a pure heart. That sucks -- people lied to you and it fucked you up a little, or maybe a lot. If that's where you're currently at, I get it, and probably what you do really still need is some version of Mr. Rogers coaching you nonjudgmentally through what to do with the mad that you feel. That's a little basic when it comes to emotional literacy, but if you never mastered the basics, you gotta start sometime!

However, I'm not talking about that because it's boring to me. What's fascinating to me is that emotions feel real even when they are "invalid" in the sense of "based on literally fuckall." Like, you know what makes me blinding angry? The self-checkout machine telling me nine times to scan an item I just scanned. I wanna put my fucking fist through the thing! I want to kill it.

Now, the reality is that there is nothing happening in those moments that truly justifies my emotional reaction. I don't react like that to actual human beings, even the ones who are trying to hurt me on purpose! Certainly a little piece of machinery making my checkout experience longer by maybe ten seconds is -- like, it's not even a thing! The proportional emotional reaction to that is basically nothing. And being angry with something that has no volition is ridiculous, but how often do most of us do it? We're angry at the traffic lights or the security questions on our bank app or the fucking weather. It's such an ordinary experience, we bond over how angry these random little inconveniences make us. And by the way, the people who value purity of heart most keenly do seem to displace extremely aggressive anger onto inconveniences at a disproportionately high rate, which is how you get high-vibes yoga moms or good church deacons screaming like a lunatic about some problem with their Instacart order.

So, like. Obviously something else is going on. I'm not angry at this machine for wasting my valuable ten seconds. Not really. I'm angry because so much of my life is spent interfacing with automated systems and I resent all the million little ways I feel unseen as a human being. I'm angry because I was raised by a culture that taught me the one and only realm of my life where I was allowed to have unquestionable authority over my own experience is when it's my turn to be The Customer, so it feels especially violating when I'm helpless within my Paying Customer Experience. And I'm angry because I usually do my grocery shopping on the way home from work, and I'm tired and hungry and my animal brain is feeling increasingly desperate about this threatening situation.

Those are emotions that are important, in the sense of needing to be validated and understood, but you can't even get to them until you you recognize that what feels enormously real right now -- that I hate this specific machine and long for the opportunity to break it -- is in fact false. The truth is, this doesn't matter, and I won't care about it five seconds after I walk out. The truth is, I wouldn't feel better if I broke the machine; it wouldn't solve any problem I have, and I'd just feel like a dumbass. The truth is, telling myself it's normal and healthy and valid to hate self-checkout machines obscures the actual powerful clarity I can achieve when I stop and think, what's the true thing that I can't focus on while I'm being angry about this fake thing? The emotion itself (I'm going to kill this fucking machine!) is a maladaptive response, even though I never actually act on it. The emotion itself is part of a set of lies I tell myself about my life and how I feel about it. It's not immoral, but it's an obstacle, the same way uncritically accepting any false thing is an obstacle to my ultimate goal, which is to live a life as unburdened by lies as possible.