Emotions as Natural Processes: A Journey Beyond Regulation

Introduction

Feelings. Yikes!

In the past, if you’d asked me about emotions, I would have frowned and emphatically told you to find someone else to ask. My internal experience of emotions alternated between two extremes: they were either as distant as faint stars or like wild, ravaging beasts actively trying to destroy me — nothing in between. Today, after years of study and painstaking work, I’m on a journey of self-recognition. Along this path, I’ve discovered that my original impressions about feelings were far too simple for my detailed and sensitive way of processing. I now see feelings and emotions as entirely distinct experiences. Feelings are still “Yikes!” But emotions? They’re actually marvelously complex processes that I’m not always able to access — and that’s okay.

Emotions vs. Feelings: A Distinction

For me, feelings and emotions are separate but related experiences. Feelings are like quick, reactionary waves that can overwhelm, yet can also be absent or imperceptible. I’ve noticed that for many people, feelings seem to operate like something out of The Jetsons — a cartoon I loved that portrayed a futuristic world where everything runs on automated conveyor belts and production lines. Push a button at one end, and out comes a perfectly packaged result, right on schedule. When people tell me “don’t be sad” or “try to calm down,” I imagine they must have access to this kind of streamlined system, where feelings arrive predictably through some internal automation, ready to be adjusted with the press of a button.

My experience couldn’t be more different. While others seem to have this Jetsons-like emotional processing system — where triggers lead smoothly to feelings through clear mechanical steps — I find myself looking through a window at a system I can observe but can’t access. Feelings, when I can detect them at all, are like sharp, overwhelming waves that surge through my system without warning — or they’re completely absent, leaving no trace of their existence. There’s no conveyor belt delivering neat packages of feelings, no control panel with simple buttons to press.

Emotions, on the other hand, I’ve come to understand as an ongoing system of complex processes. While I don’t always feel them directly, they’re present, influencing how I experience the world and leaving markers of their presence that I can sometimes recognize in retrospect. This disconnect between how others experience feelings and how I do has been one of the most puzzling aspects of human interaction for me. It highlights a fundamental difference between the automated emotional processing others seem to expect and my actual experience of emotions and feelings.

Pathways and Processes in Practice: Building a Language of Recognition

This stark difference between my experience and the automated emotional processing others seem to expect led me to question many common assumptions about emotions. I find there’s often an assumption that emotional health and maturity require emotional regulation. Yet, I’ve realized that emotional regulation (and its counterpart dysregulation) may not be the best lens to understand my experience. For me, it’s been about building a relationship with my own internal processing, which begins with truthful recognition.

 I build my own ways of recognizing and understanding my emotional processes. I think of these as “pathways” — routes of access to aspects of my emotional functioning that are often obscured from my direct awareness. Learning to identify these processes has taken years of near constant and purposeful self-reflection. Much of my thirties was spent observing my responses in each moment, often saying them aloud. Through this practice, I’ve gathered insights into my emotional landscape, identifying recurring signals that help me recognize shifts within myself.

This process of building a language of recognition has been inherently self-revealing. In the past, meltdowns were my primary indicator, but that was extreme and costly, leading to extended periods of autistic burnout. Now, I’ve learned to recognize more subtle signs: surges in discomfort, specific fixations, patterns of behavior, reflections from others, energy levels, even pattern matching from media. It’s like being a naturalist studying an ecosystem — I observe these various elements, not to control them but to learn their rhythms, relationships, and natural flows. Some pathways were immediately accessible, while others had to be built slowly over time. Some might never exist at all — and that’s okay.

Fundamental Processing Reality

One of the most challenging aspects of my emotional journey is knowing what is most natural for me often doesn’t have a place in the world I share with the rest of humanity. I’ve come to recognize that some limitations aren’t negotiable, regardless of effort or domain. Navigating life with my processing pace feels like moving through an education system with an inflexible, accelerated timeline. Imagine trying to complete a full educational journey — from first grade through a bachelor’s degree — in six months. People often suggest I could adjust, speed up, or simply try harder, as if a faster approach would work. But this isn’t just difficult; it’s fundamentally impossible for me.

Even for the most gifted students, some requirements can’t be bypassed. While exceptional students might compress twelve years of education into six or eight, no one can skip the fundamental need for development and processing time. Some knowledge must build on previous understanding; some concepts require time to integrate; some development simply can’t be rushed, no matter how intelligent you are or how hard you try. Like a student needing foundational learning in each grade, my internal processing requires specific time in each stage, and no amount of effort can condense or bypass that fundamental need.

This is how I fundamentally exist in the world. Whether I’m processing emotions, learning new skills, adapting to changes, or writing this piece, I need extended periods of processing that I cannot override. Life for me might mean always seeking to balance extremes like fictitiously fitting a decade worth of learning and development into only 6 months, or in practice attempting to address emotions and emotional processing in real time and on demand, I may never quite achieve such balances at all. That’s my reality.

The Challenge: Realities and Responses

So what makes experiencing my own emotions manageable in a world that demands faster processing than I can naturally achieve? Sometimes nothing. The mismatch between my needs and external demands is simply too great. Sometimes it’s the culmination of years of learning and practice, allowing me to compress what would naturally take longer into shorter timeframes, though never without cost. And sometimes it’s about finding even the tiniest bit more time for my natural processing to unfold.

I’ve learned through exhausting experience that trying to regulate my emotions — to force them into socially acceptable timeframes and expressions — leads to profound burnout. When I try to override these fundamental requirements, the results are predictable. It’s like trying to run a marathon at sprint speed; eventually, your system simply can’t maintain that pace. Instead, I’m learning to work with my natural processing pace, much like learning to navigate with rather than against a river’s flow. This doesn’t mean I can always take the time I need, but it means I understand the cost of compression and can better prepare for or recover from it.

The truth is that even though I strive to adapt, I’m usually not able to regulate anything about my emotions. This reality shapes every aspect of my experience — from daily interactions to longer-term growth and development. It’s not about inability or unwillingness to change; it’s about respecting the fundamental nature of how my system processes experience. When I honor this truth instead of fighting it, I can better manage the inevitable moments when external demands require me to navigate a world that’s counter to my way of being.

A Paradigm Shift: From Regulation to Relationship

Through this journey of building pathways and recognizing my fundamental processing reality, I’ve come to understand something deeper about my emotional world. Just as I can’t access the Jetsons-like automation others seem to have for feelings, I’ve discovered that my emotions follow a different pattern entirely — one that aligns with natural processes happening within and around us all the time. Some of these processes are visible, others imperceptible; some we can influence, others we only observe.

This insight struck me most profoundly when I considered a part of myself I don’t often think about: my bones. When examining my emotional processing in-depth, I found striking parallels. Just as bones grow and develop without conscious experience or control, my emotional processes occur whether or not I’m directly aware of them, often beyond my conscious reach. Like how someone might not feel their bones growing but can observe the effects over time — getting taller, healing from breaks, adapting to physical demands — my emotional processes may not be directly accessible, but I can learn to recognize their impact through the pathways I’ve built.

While I haven’t met every human being who has walked this planet (so there may be exceptions), I think most of us would find it difficult if not impossible to manually operate how our bones grow. That’s exactly how emotions are for me. In truth, the same way that I’m unable to directly influence my bones growing, healing themselves, or shrinking later in life, I’m unable to purposefully manufacture, alter, or direct the internal processes that govern my emotions.

This understanding has transformed how I approach my emotional world. Instead of trying to force my processing into socially acceptable timeframes — like trying to compress years of education into months or maintain a marathon pace at sprint speed — I’m learning to work with my natural processes, much as we work with rather than against our body’s natural development. Just as we can support healthy bone growth through nutrition and appropriate activity, I can support my emotional health by honoring my natural processing pace and building pathways of recognition.