Editor’s note: This piece was published in the early stages of finding my voice. For a less serious, more intimate POV, check out Issue 03 and beyond. If you like serious, message me! I love a good point-counterpoint debate.
We spend a surprising amount of time trying to understand ourselves. We replay conversations, explain people's behavior, and search for reasons behind what happened. But understanding isn't always the same as experiencing. This week's journal explores what happens when we explain our experiences before we've fully felt them.
Understanding isn’t the same as experiencing —
It’s a natural part of the human experience to be fully present in a moment, only to have that moment interrupted by a thought. The thinking mind has a way of slipping into the background so naturally that we stop noticing it’s there. Whether we’re genuinely trying to understand something or are simply distracted, this pattern becomes so ingrained that we begin identifying with our thoughts and accepting them as part of the present moment. With enough practice, we fall into the trap of mistaking intellectual understanding for lived experience.
How this plays out in real life —
Imagine you’re out with a friend. Your visit runs a little longer than expected, so you call your partner to let them know you’ll be late for dinner. The moment you hang up, your friend says they could hear your partner’s tone and waits for your reaction. You don’t hesitate to answer. Your first instinct is to explain that your partner is always exhausted after work and that you being late adds stress to their day. You may even feel guilty and start wondering what you could have done differently. Among all your thoughts is a much quieter, almost gnawing feeling that something isn’t right. You can’t quite name it, maybe you don’t want to name it, but it’s there.
You’re quick to reply. You’re used to your partner being irritable after work and have already justified it. Your inner dialogue tells you “They have a high-pressure job and need time to themselves to unwind. It makes sense they’d be annoyed if your schedule interrupts that.” So you work around their needs. You understand their reasons and accept the scenario as it is.
You don’t dwell on that gnawing feeling. Your explanation bypasses it entirely, leaving it unrecognized and unaddressed. Their reasons were enough.
We explain before we experience —
“Did he have a tone? I didn’t notice. He’s always exhausted after work.”
Some experiences are too much for us to process emotionally. In extreme cases, we revert to our survival brain. More commonly, our mind skips the uncomfortable emotion and jumps into rationalization, allowing us to explain a situation without having truly felt it.
Why? Because it’s easier than addressing the feeling. Our explanations are comforting because they give us a sense of control. We think that if we understand something, we can influence it. We prefer to interpret events in ways that give us power over the narrative because it feels safer than confronting what we’re actually feeling.
We often mistake our interpretations for reality —
“Did he have a tone? I didn’t notice. He has a high-pressure job. If he sounds tense it usually just means he’s stressed from work.”
Our interpretation, the way we perceive an experience, impacts how we make sense of it. What seem like objective questions (what happened, why did it happen, when did it start, whose fault was it) become nuanced by our point of view. Our point of view then becomes our reality: the baseline we measure against.
We’re inclined to adopt a point of view that protects us, or how we see ourselves, from unpleasant truths or experiences. That inclination also makes us more likely to justify and support things that are familiar, that we already believe, than to accept things that go against our preconceived notions. Rationalization can keep us safe from the experience in front of us and the deeper truths it can reveal. Accurate or not, our interpretations cement our understanding of “what happened.”
We mistake understanding for acceptance —
“Did he have a tone? I didn’t notice. I mean, it makes sense if he’s annoyed. I gave him really short notice.”
Curiosity dies when we believe we fully understand something. There is no reason to question or explore what we already know is true. Once we think we understand something, we begin to live in that reality and accept things as they are. Except we aren’t accepting things as they are. We’re accepting them as we see them.
How it impacts us —
There’s a cost to being truly present. Being open to an experience can be uncomfortable when it challenges our point of view. But what’s the cost of not emotionally connecting to the present moment? If you mistake intellectual understanding for lived experience, you’ll end up experiencing your explanations, not reality. You’ll become fluent in your interpretations and yet somehow feel like a stranger in your own life. In searching for an explanation, you’ll miss the feeling you were trying to understand.
What did this make you think of?
Have you ever caught yourself explaining an experience before you’d fully felt it?
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Wow, this was striking
The part about how understanding something can make curiosity fade really stayed with me..there’s something about uncertainty that keeps us open, while certainty can quietly become the reality we stop looking beyond..🤍🌿