The Addiction to Rationalizing Pain and Why We’d Rather Explain Than Feel

You’ve been trained to be smart. So smart, you can name every feeling… without actually feeling it.

You’ve been taught to break pain down, make it make sense, and put it in a box with a label.

“Ah yes, this is abandonment. Probably rooted in childhood. I see what’s happening here.”

You smile. You’ve decoded it. You think you’ve healed it.

But nothing in your body feels different. The ache is still there. The tightness in your chest. The lump in your throat. The numbness after the overthinking storm.

This is the lie no one told you:

Explaining your pain is not the same as experiencing it.

Logic is a Shield—But It’s Also a Cage

Ever wonder why you're stuck? Trapped?

Rationalizing is the culprit.

Your logic is armor. It’s elegant, even beautiful. It’s how you survived childhood. Or heartbreak. Or betrayal. You wrapped yourself in reasons. Wore understanding like a second skin. Because feeling the rawness or vulnerability? That would’ve wrecked you.

So now you explain instead of crying. You analyze instead of rage. You diagnose instead of grieve. You’ve built a fortress of insight. But you’re still hurting inside it.

Shift: Your Feelings Aren’t Problems

Let's get one thing straight....

Feelings are biological events.

Not flaws. Not failures. Not dangerous forces that need managing. They’re not proof you’re broken. They’re not evidence you’re unevolved. They’re not ammunition to use against someone else.

They’re situational. Transactional. Like hunger or thirst.

They rise. They move. They pass. Unless… you block them. Rationalize them. Ignore the knock at the door. That’s when they settle in your body. Become chronic. Turn into anxiety, burnout, or bitterness.

Feelings Aren’t the Problem. Avoiding Them Is.

But it’s not your fault. This culture taught you to override emotion with intellect. To be calm. Be cool. Be wise. Be rational.

So when grief hits, you summarize. When anger rises, you “see their side.” When shame flares, you self-diagnose. But your authentic self is silenced and invisible.

Released from the Cage...

A friendship ended. Suddenly. Painfully. And my mind went into high gear:

I told myself, “She was probably triggered.” “We had different values.” “This is about her past, not mine.” "She wasn't a real friend anyway."

Elegant reasons. My creativity went into overdrive, conjecturing all kinds of reasons that distracted me from my feelings.

Rather than experiencing the pain of the loss, what did I do? I stayed busy. Talked about the broken friendship like a case study. But the grief hung around and didn’t budge—until I stopped rationalizing. Sat on the floor. Let myself sob. No story. No angle. Just ache.

And finally… The weight lifted.

That’s the transaction emotions want: To move through, not get trapped in translation.

What Self-Abandonment Actually Looks Like

This probably sounds familiar, right. Something happens that evokes emotions and we say:

“I shouldn’t feel this way.” Or…
“Other people have it worse.” Or…
“This is probably about my trauma.”

Even if it sounds wise, ”it's still dismissal. You’re deserting the feeling that’s asking for presence. Self-abandonment is sometimes just rationalizing and overthinking in disguise.

You Don’t Need to Understand It to Honor It

Here’s the truth you can carry forward:

Healing isn’t about figuring it out. It’s about feeling it through. Understanding comes later. After your body has had its say. After the storm passes. Let logic serve the process, not replace it.

Because you are not a machine. You’re not here to be perfect or put-together.  You’re here to be alive.

So let your sadness be sadness. Let your rage be rage. Let your joy be joy.

Without explanation. Without justification.