I came to this through years of caregiving and chaplaincy — rooms where naming emotions is supposedly the whole job. Even there, the language was its own dialect: clinical, master's-level, insider. I remember being handed a feelings wheel, asked how I felt, and staring at it thinking: why is this so hard?
What changed things for me was small. Learning that anxiety and excitement can feel almost identical in the body — same racing heart, same restlessness — and that the difference is mostly the word you give it. I'd spent years calling things anxiety that were closer to excitement. The word wasn't just a label. It changed the experience.
Once I could see it in myself, I couldn't stop seeing the gap in everyone else. In the people I worked with. In men's groups. In conversation after conversation where someone clearly had the experience but not the words for it. Most of us are running on a tiny vocabulary for a huge part of being human — and no one ever handed us more.