Grab a coffee, settle in, and maybe grab a snack because we need to talk about a specific type of mental exhaustion that nobody warns you about in those “self-care” infographics.

I’m Tina, and I’ve come to the realization that being “emotionally intelligent” is actually just a fancy way of saying I’ve lost the ability to be a hater in peace.

You know that satisfying, hot-blooded feeling of just disliking someone? That pure, uncomplicated “Ugh, Brenda is the worst” energy? I miss it. I really do. Because lately, my brain has developed this automatic, unshakeable habit of psychoanalyzing every person who crosses me before I even have the chance to get properly offended.

The “Oh, I See What You’re Doing” Trap

Last week, I was in line for my morning caffeine fix—the only thing standing between me and a total breakdown—and this guy behind me was being an absolute nightmare. He was huffing, checking his watch every three seconds, and eventually made a really snide comment to the barista about the “unacceptable” wait time for an oat milk latte.

My immediate human reaction? Wow, what a jerk. I hope his latte is lukewarm.

But then, the “Emotional Intelligence™” kicked in. I looked at the way his hands were shaking slightly. I noticed the coffee stain on his shirt that looked like it happened ten minutes ago. I saw the way he winced when his phone buzzed.

Suddenly, my brain went: “Tina, he’s not a jerk. He’s clearly overwhelmed, probably running late for a high-stakes meeting he’s unprepared for, and he’s projecting his lack of control over his life onto this poor barista because it’s the only thing he feels he can influence right now. He’s not mean; he’s scared.”

And just like that, my anger evaporated. I went from wanting to trip him to wanting to buy him a croissant. Do you know how exhausting that is? I just wanted to be annoyed in the queue like a normal person!

Why We Can’t Just Have “Villains” Anymore

When you start understanding the why behind the what, the world stops being a movie with clear heroes and villains. It becomes a documentary where everyone is just a messy collection of their childhood traumas, bad habits, and defense mechanisms.

It’s hard to truly hate your micromanaging boss when you realize she was raised by parents who only gave her affection when she was “perfect.” You can’t fully loathe the friend who always flaked on you once you see that their “laziness” is actually a paralyzing fear of social rejection.

The Emotional Intelligence Paradox: The more you understand people, the less you can judge them. But the less you judge them, the more “emotional baggage” you end up carrying for them.

It’s like having a superpower that you can’t turn off. You see the “reason” behind the “season.” You see the scared child behind the shouting adult. You see the insecurity behind the arrogance.

The Humor in the Heartache

The funniest part is how it ruins my storytelling. I’ll come home to tell a friend about a “horrible” person I met, and halfway through the story, I start defending them.

Me: “So then he said the rudest thing to me!”

Friend: “What a loser! You should have told him off.”

Me: “Well… to be fair, his dog did just die, and I think he’s struggling with some deep-seated abandonment issues that make him push people away before they can leave him, so really, he was just protecting his inner child.”

Friend: “Tina, please. Just let him be a jerk for five minutes.”

The Reality Check

Is this a better way to live? Probably. It definitely keeps my blood pressure lower. It makes me a kinder person, a better friend, and a much more patient stranger. But let’s be real: it’s also a bit of a burden.

Being an emotionally intelligent person means you’re constantly doing the “emotional labor” for two people. You’re processing your own feelings and auditing theirs. You’re finding the empathy they aren’t even showing themselves.

So, to all my fellow “understanders” out there: I see you. I know you’re tired of being the one who “gets it.” I know you wish you could just be petty for an afternoon without your brain providing a 12-point bulleted list of why that person is actually just hurting.

But I guess that’s the price of admission for a peaceful heart. We trade the fire of hatred for the slow, steady hum of compassion. It’s less dramatic, sure, but it’s a lot quieter in here.

Does your brain ever “auto-correct” your anger into empathy at the worst times? Tell me your “I should be mad but I get it” stories in the comments!