I'm No Stoic—But I Relate to Being One: A Note on Stoicism

A few years ago, in one of my old journals, I wrote: I’m no Stoic, but I deeply relate to being one. Back then, I don’t think I truly understood what those words meant. They came from instinct rather than knowledge—a quiet recognition of something I felt but couldn’t yet explain.

But lately, I’ve noticed a growing wave of posts on social media describing Stoicism as toxic—as a philosophy that encourages people to suppress their emotions, to numb themselves instead of feeling. The argument usually goes that true strength lies in emotional openness, not restraint.

But that’s precisely where the misunderstanding lies. Stoicism isn’t a rejection of emotion—it’s a deeper understanding of it. And this modern misinterpretation is something I’ve seen too often, something I want to unpack and clarify here.

The Common Misinterpretation of Stoicism

In modern culture, Stoicism is often seen as a kind of emotional numbness. A refusal to feel, to express, or to be moved. Its philosophy is often dismissed as emotional repression dressed as strength. But the core idea of stoicism isn't about suppression. It's about discernment.

Stoics understood that emotions arise naturally. And that what matters are not the emotions themselves but how we respond to them.

Marcus Aurelius wrote:

You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.

This doesn't mean ignore your emotions. It means recognize them for what they are (temporary reactions, signals), and don't confuse them with the truth of reality or let them dictate your actions.

Epictetus said it even more bluntly:

It’s not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.

The Stoic’s calm isn’t the calm of a person who feels nothing—it’s the calm of someone who has felt deeply and still chooses to act with integrity, reason, and purpose.

Stoicism as Emotional Clarity

Emotions are temporary, but decisions and actions have long-term consequences.

Stoicism teaches to act from principle, not from impulse. It doesn’t invalidate feelings—it simply recognizes that they are not definitive.

When you’re angry, sad, jealous, or heartbroken, those emotions are real, valid, and human. But Stoicism reminds you that your judgment about those feelings determines whether you’ll be ruled by them or grow through them.

Seneca wrote:

No man is more unhappy than he who never faces adversity. For he is not permitted to prove himself.

In other words, emotional turmoil isn’t something to avoid—it’s a testing ground for your inner structure. The Stoic doesn’t try to control or suppress their emotions; they face them, walk through them, and emerge stronger, more anchored, and more whole.

For me personally, Stoicism is just one brick in the foundation of individuality—a teaching that has helped me to look at emotions from a different angle. It’s not about controlling emotions, but about managing my reactions to them. Because emotions aren’t the “problem”—our inability to respond to them wisely is.

The Pillars of Stoicism

Getting up, dusting off, and keeping going even when your emotions haven’t yet aligned—that’s Stoicism in practice. It’s the act of being governed by values rather than moods.

You still feel grief, love, anger, and longing, but you act not because of them—you act through them. You coexist with your emotions instead of being consumed by them.

To the Stoic, strength isn’t the absence of pain—it’s the ability to move forward despite it. And it took me years to understand that that's the highest form of emotional maturity.

For me, Stoicism was the first glimpse I had into understanding how to separate myself from my emotions—how to feel it all, yet move through the dense waters of life with measure, integrity, and purpose.

This quote by Marcus Aurelius says it best:

The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way.

Even our emotions—especially the uncomfortable ones—can become the path to wisdom if we walk through them with awareness and clarity.

So, at the core, Stoicism isn't a rejection of life's emotional intensity—it’s an embrace of life through the lens of reason and virtue. It’s not a philosophy of denial but of transformation. The Stoic doesn’t turn away from emotion; they simply refuse to be enslaved by it. And it takes massive inner work to taste the freedom that stoicism is offering through its teachings.

To be Stoic is to say:

I will feel everything, but I will not be undone by anything.