Yeah. This is a little weird, but: I think of my feelings like they're a little kid inside me. Like, if the little kid inside me is sad, I comfort her, and if she's mad, I try to soothe her. I want her to be happy and I would never ignore her or tell her she was wrong to, say, cry over a lost game of hopscotch. But, like, as much as I love her, I can't let her dictate what I do and don't do. She's a kid!!! Kids are crazy and they don't have any sense! You can't reason with them. And you can't reason with feelings, either, really.To bring it back around, if the little kid inside me doesn't want to eat her peas (i.e., go to the gym), I say very nicely, "I'm sorry you feel that way, sweetie, but you still need to eat your peas." And I do that until she eats her peas.
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