You Can Feel Two Things at Once (And No, You're Not Broken)

Some days I’m grateful. Some days I’m overwhelmed. And a lot of days—it’s both.

There have been seasons of my life where things felt heavy all the time. Stress that didn’t let up. Pressure from every direction. But in the middle of all that, I’d have a moment where I’d laugh with my kid. Or I’d look up and notice how good the sun felt on my face. Or a song would come on the radio that I would just have to sing along with.

For a while, I didn’t know what to do with that. Was I faking it? Was I just pretending to be okay? Was I confused?

No.

Turns out, this is just how real life works. You can feel two things at the same time. You can be tired and happy. You can love someone and be angry at them. You can be thankful and still wish things were easier.

If you're feeling more than one thing, you're not broken.

A lot of us grew up thinking feelings should be simple. Pick one and stick to it. But that’s not how it goes.

You can be proud of yourself and still feel insecure.

You can have a good day and still feel sad.

You can want change and still be afraid of it.

This isn’t emotional confusion. It’s just life. Your brain isn’t malfunctioning. You’re just a person who notices a lot, feels a lot, and tries to make sense of things as best you can.

Where does this pressure come from?

We want things to make sense. We like neat categories.

Happy. Sad. Calm. Angry. Strong. Weak.

It makes life easier to name things and move on. But feelings don’t really respect categories. They show up in layers. And sometimes they overlap in ways that make no sense at all. That doesn’t mean they’re wrong.

It means you’re paying attention.

I’ve had times where my day was just…a mess. Stressful stuff piling up. Work wasn’t getting done. I was behind on everything. But then I’d watch a show and genuinely laugh. Like a real laugh. The kind that surprises you.

Did the laugh mean everything was fixed? No. But it mattered. It reminded me that I wasn’t totally lost in the bad. There was still something good. Still a small window of relief.

Sometimes I feel low for days at a time. Like nothing is clicking. But then I step outside and the sun hits my face just right, and for a second, I feel okay. Not better. Just okay. And that second counts.

I’ve been angry before. Like ready-to-slam-a-door angry. Then someone at the grocery store tells me they like my eyeliner. And I smile. I don’t want to smile. But I do. And for a second, I remember that people are soft, and not everything is a fight.

Those moments don’t fix anything. They don’t have to. They just show up and remind me that life doesn’t stop moving, even when I’m stuck in my head.

What happens when we ignore that?

When you try to flatten your emotions, you end up lying to yourself. You end up saying things like:

“I shouldn’t be upset, I have it good.”

“If I was really happy, I wouldn’t be crying.”

“I need to pick a lane.”

That’s the trap. We think emotional clarity = emotional simplicity.

But emotional honesty is often messy.

Let’s say you just left a job that was making you miserable. You know it was the right call. But you’re still scared. You miss your old coworkers. You feel unsteady.

That doesn’t mean you made a mistake. It means you're a full human who can feel both freedom and fear. You're not being dramatic. You're not being ungrateful.

You're adjusting.

We also don’t talk enough about not knowing how we feel.

There’s so much pressure to name our emotions right away. Like if you can’t say exactly what’s going on inside you, then you must be avoiding something. Or not doing the work. Or in denial.

Sometimes I just don’t know how I feel.

Not because I’m hiding from it. But because it’s layered. Or because I’m too tired to sort it all out. Or because I’m still in it, and it hasn’t taken shape yet.

That’s allowed.

You don’t have to be a self-awareness expert every second of the day. You’re allowed to say, “I don’t know what this is yet. I just know it’s a lot.”

That’s not emotional laziness. That’s emotional honesty.

Real example: Me, stressed out and laughing anyway

There was a time when I was absolutely drowning in stress. Everything felt out of control. I was working full-time, barely keeping up with parenting, bills stacking up. And still—there were moments that made me smile.

One day, I had this pile of paperwork that I had been putting off. I finally sat down to do it, and my son walked in wearing nothing but underwear, a pirate hat and a sword around his waist. And for five minutes, I didn’t feel stress. I felt joy. I laughed. Hard.

Then I went back to the paperwork.

It’s not either-or. It’s both.

Why this matters

You might be reading this thinking, okay, sure—but who cares?

Here’s why it matters: when you believe you can only feel one thing at a time, you start ignoring the parts of you that don’t fit the dominant emotion.

You start pushing down the joy because you “should” be sad. Or pushing down the sadness because you “should” be happy.

You stop trusting yourself.

And over time, that turns into numbness. Or shame. Or feeling like you're performing your feelings instead of living them.

So what do you do?

You stop trying to clean it all up. You make space.

Let your feelings show up the way they do.

Let the good things count, even when things are hard.

Don’t apologize to yourself for feeling mixed.

You don’t need to make it tidy. You don’t need to make it inspiring. You just need to let it be real.

Try this next time you're caught in a swirl:

Name both emotions. “I’m overwhelmed and I’m thankful.”

Write down what’s happening, without trying to fix it.

Give both feelings a little room. Don’t pick a side.

Talk to someone you trust without trying to make it sound better than it is.

Mixed emotions aren’t a failure of self-awareness. They’re a sign that you’re tuned in.

For when you're journaling:

These prompts might help if you're not sure what to do with all your feelings at once:

• What’s the part of this I’m not letting myself feel?

• Am I telling myself I “should” feel a certain way?

• If both feelings are true, what would I do next?

What am I trying to make make sense that just…doesn’t?

Let yourself write without judgment. You don’t need to explain your feelings to anyone—not even to yourself. Just name them. Give them a place to land.

Final thought

You’re allowed to feel more than one thing at a time.

That doesn’t make you flaky. It doesn’t make you fake. It makes you human.

If this has been your week—or your year—know this:

You don’t have to figure it all out before you feel something good. You don’t have to be done crying before you can laugh again.

You’re not broken. You’re just real.

And that’s enough.