Selfhood and the Art of Feeling Well

On emotions, belonging, and discovering who you are

"Despair, weariness, emptiness, and nothingness… Once they take hold of you, they are difficult emotions to escape. It feels as if you have fallen into a well without water and are sitting there with your face buried in your knees. You feel as though you are the most meaningless being in the world, as if you are the only person going through difficult times."

Are you familiar with these feelings as well?

Have you ever sunk so deeply into your own sense of meaninglessness that life itself began to feel meaningless? When these emotions knock on your heart’s door, do you allow yourself to experience them fully? Or do you try to make them disappear as quickly as possible through therapy, relentless work schedules, antidepressants, or by binge-watching episode after episode of a TV series?

For a long time, I belonged to the second group.

After adolescence, I spent years trying different forms of therapy because I believed there was something fundamentally wrong with me. When my professional life began, I pushed my emotions aside, telling myself, “Forget your feelings. There are reports to write and deadlines to meet.” During vacations, I often escaped into TV series or long book sagas from morning until night, choosing distance from myself.

Today, I try to give myself more space—to treat myself as I am and to allow my emotions the value they deserve.

 Reading is still one of my favorite activities, but now I read not to escape myself, but to discover new layers of meaning. I even dedicate deliberate time to it. And I certainly haven’t stopped watching films or series. Sometimes it’s wonderful to clear the mind, have fun, step away from daily concerns, and let the imagination wander.

Recently, I’ve become fascinated by Korean and Japanese storytelling. I started with television series and continued with books. What draws me in is the existence of a category often called healing stories or feel-good stories. What moves me is that they don’t create that feeling through fairy-tale romances or fantasy worlds. Instead, they touch real life, portraying emotions and experiences as they are.

The importance I place on what I watch and read comes from my belief that the emotions and thoughts we focus on help shape our reality.

Stories filled with intrigue where nearly everyone eventually harms someone else; fantasy narratives built around catastrophic threats and last-minute miracles; dramas that romanticize separation, regret, and loss; and perhaps most difficult of all, news programs that leave us feeling trapped and hopeless. In mainstream media, streaming platforms, and even much of popular literature, content that amplifies grief, chaos, sadness, and despair seems far more common.

And the more we expose ourselves to these narratives, the more fragmented our feelings about ourselves can become.

But does immersing ourselves in “feel-good” stories instantly transform us into happy butterflies?

More importantly, what does feeling well actually mean?

Is it completing a checklist? Living a lifestyle that others consider successful? Becoming a parent, a spouse, or wealthy? Escaping a terrible crisis through some miraculous turn of events?

At its simplest—and perhaps deepest—level, feeling well is the ability to experience yourself as you are. It sounds simple because we might say, “Well, I already am myself.” Yet it is surprisingly difficult because it raises two fundamental questions: Am I truly myself, or am I the product of expectations and conditioning? And if I reveal my authentic self, can I still belong with others?

This second question is closely connected to our survival instincts. Just as illness, natural disasters, and violence threaten our existence, so does the fear of losing social connection. Belonging to a group, being accepted by others, and feeling included are needs almost as fundamental as physical safety and shelter.

The feelings of despair and weariness mentioned in the opening quote emerge from this tension. The gap between who I am expected to be and my efforts to discover who I truly am can leave me feeling trapped in meaninglessness and emptiness. The same novel explores this struggle in depth. It suggests that even after completing a demanding day filled with effort and achievement, we may still feel dissatisfied if we finish the day without a sense of genuine fulfillment or pride in ourselves.

From the outside, everything may appear perfectly fine. Yet being trapped in a story that leaves no room for one’s inner world can feel like not truly living at all.

In my own life, one of my greatest challenges was learning to accept—and later share with the people I love—the parts of myself that are intuitive, unconventional, deeply emotional, and not naturally suited to highly structured professional environment. As I became more comfortable taking those steps, I found myself holding space for others facing similar struggles.

Carl Gustav Jung described this phenomenon through the archetype of the wounded healer. The healer first tends to their own wounds, learns through that healing process, and then uses those lessons to help others. In truth, every act of healing continues the healer’s own journey as well. In both individual and group work, I often try to remind people of something simple: It is possible to be yourself. It is possible to reconnect with your essence. It is possible to look at difficult emotions, experience them fully, and eventually let them go.

Sometimes working with a counselor or guide can be empowering. Yet the beginning is often much simpler: Being honest with yourself. Looking openly at what you expect from yourself. Owning your emotions. And most importantly, believing in yourself.

Returning to the theme of “feel-good” stories, what I appreciate most about them is their realism. Parent-child relationships, work life, friendships, romantic relationships… They make room for real conflicts, real struggles, and real transformation.

At their core, they invite people to confront their own existence, make space for every emotion, and bring that authenticity into relationships. They explore what happens when people truly see and embrace one another as they are.

Because feeling well grows through both self-acceptance and the ability to share that acceptance with others.

And when one person stands up, they often inspire and give hope in someone else.

Let me end with another quote from Hwang Bo-reum’s Welcome to the Hyunam-dong Bookshop: “I hope you straighten up inside the well. Just try. No one knows what will happen afterward. And because no one knows, I want you to give yourself a chance. Aren’t you curious about what might happen if you stand up?”

I see this act of “standing up” as the act of turning toward oneself. What might happen if you stepped out of the same repetitive cycle, shook off the habits and expectations that no longer serve you, and looked honestly at your own essence?