When I had just started at Google, I raised my hand to take on a research project that was particularly scary to me, as it would be used by our partners team to make real-world decisions. The question was: why weren’t brands taking YouTube seriously, and what might convince them of the value of online video?
I know this feels obvious today, but at the time TV was still the gold standard for reaching mass audiences, and the idea of a “content creator” had barely entered the mainstream.
So, on top of my other projects, I spent hours reading about digital advertising, consumer psychology, and media strategy. I really wanted to get it right.
When I finally presented my findings, a colleague pointed out a few weaknesses in my methodology. I became so emotional that I left the call and pretended I was having internet problems. Then, in my head, that feedback quickly ballooned into doubts about whether I was cut out for a job at Google at all.
It might not feel so salient, but most of us have experienced a version of this. A colleague gives you a piece of feedback which you know isn’t particularly harsh, but you keep replaying it for the rest of the day, or the week.
That’s because we often assume that our immediate emotional responses are a direct reflection of what happened. But the event is only part of the story. Studies suggest that what also matters is what that event means to us.
Organizational psychologist Marcia Reynolds has written about the psychological needs that can underlie emotional triggers. Constructive feedback might feel threatening if being seen as competent matters deeply to you. An unexpected change might unsettle you if you value predictability. Being left out might threaten your sense of inclusion. A dismissive comment might feel especially charged when respect is especially important to you.
That doesn’t mean every emotion is revealing some profound hidden truth, but strong reactions can be useful clues.
So instead of asking, “Why am I so upset about this?”, try asking, “What feels threatened here? This shift will help you separate the trigger from the need. For instance:
| Why am I so upset? | What feels threatened? |
| “I’m angry that they changed the plan” | “I don’t like feeling like I have no control” |
| “I’m hurt that they didn’t invite me” | “I’m scared I don’t belong” |
| “I can’t stop thinking about that criticism” | “Being seen as competent matters to me” |
Once you know what the emotion may be pointing toward, you have more options. You can decide whether the need is genuinely being threatened, whether your interpretation is accurate, and what (if anything) you want to do about it.
Here’s a simple way to practice emotional inquiry:
Name what you’re feeling. Get more specific than “bad” or “stressed.” Is it disappointment, embarrassment, resentment, anxiety? Research shows that the emotion can make it easier to observe rather than immediately act on.
Explore what feels threatened. Look underneath the immediate trigger. Are you wanting more certainty, autonomy, respect, belonging, fairness, or recognition?
Then decide what the situation actually requires. Sometimes you need to speak up. Sometimes you need more information to understand the criticism. And sometimes you simply need twenty minutes before replying to that email.
The idea here isn’t to obey every emotion or to eliminate uncomfortable ones, but simply to become better at interpreting them. Name what you feel, explore what feels threatened, and then only choose what the situation actually requires.
Sometimes the emotion will point to something you need to address. Other times, you may realize that the threat exists mostly in your interpretation of what happened. Either way, you’re in a better position to decide what to do next.
Every emotion is a signal. So, instead of judging yourself for having a strong reaction, a more useful question is to ask what exactly it is signaling.