Lesson 7: Emotion and Motivation – What Drives Us
Transcript
Welcome back to The Introduction to Psychology Series. I’m RJ Starr.
Today we’re stepping into territory that’s familiar to every one of us, whether or not we’ve ever studied psychology. Emotion and motivation. What we feel, and why we move.
These two forces—feeling and drive—shape nearly everything we do. They’re behind the big decisions and the small ones. They influence who we love, what we avoid, when we speak up, and when we stay quiet. Sometimes we’re aware of them. Sometimes they’re running the show without our permission. But either way, they’re always present. So today, we’re going to talk about how psychologists understand emotion and motivation—what they are, where they come from, and how they guide our behavior, for better or worse.
Let’s start with emotion.
What is an emotion? Most of us can name a few—anger, sadness, fear, joy, disgust. But what are they really?
Psychologists have offered different answers over the years. At the most basic level, emotion is a response to a stimulus—something that happens in your body, in your brain, and in your mind. Emotions involve physiological arousal, like a racing heart or shallow breath. They involve subjective experience—what it feels like inside you. And they involve a behavioral component—what you’re inclined to do. Yell. Cry. Run. Reach out. Shut down.
One early theory of emotion is the James-Lange theory. It says that emotion is the result of the body’s response. So you don’t tremble because you’re afraid—you feel fear because you notice yourself trembling. Your brain interprets the bodily change as emotion. That might sound backward, but there’s something to it. Your body often reacts before your brain catches up.
Another model, called the Cannon-Bard theory, argued the opposite—that emotions and bodily responses happen at the same time, not in sequence. So fear and a racing heart happen together, driven by the same brain signals. This theory was a way to explain the speed of emotional experience.
There are other models too, like the Schachter-Singer two-factor theory, which says that emotion is a combination of physiological arousal and the interpretation you give it. You feel your heart pounding, and then your brain decides—Am I excited? Afraid? Angry? The context gives it meaning.
These theories all try to explain the same thing: how emotion happens. But what’s more important for most of us is understanding what emotions do.
Because emotions aren’t just feelings. They’re information.
Anger can tell you that a boundary’s been crossed. Sadness can tell you that something mattered. Fear can alert you to danger—or to something meaningful you’re afraid to lose. Joy tells you what lights you up. Disgust might be physical, or it might be psychological—pulling you away from something your values reject.
The key is to recognize that emotions aren’t your enemy. They’re not the opposite of reason. They’re signals. And those signals are shaped by your biology, your history, your environment, and your interpretation.
Different people feel the same emotion differently. One person’s anger might explode. Another’s might implode. One person’s joy is loud. Another’s is quiet. That doesn’t make one more valid than the other. Emotion expression is shaped by culture, upbringing, temperament, and social context.
But underneath all that variety, emotions serve the same basic purpose. They prepare us for action. They help us navigate the world. And when we ignore them, suppress them, or misunderstand them, we often lose access to what they’re trying to tell us.
That brings us to emotional regulation. The ability to feel something and still choose your response. This doesn’t mean shutting down. It means creating enough space between the feeling and the action so that you can choose how to move forward.
Some people were never taught this. Or they learned the opposite—that feelings are dangerous, or embarrassing, or signs of weakness. That expressing sadness is manipulative. That anger is bad. That joy is indulgent. But emotional regulation isn’t about denial. It’s about naming, understanding, and working with the feeling—not against it.
And that brings us to motivation. Because emotion tells you what matters. Motivation pushes you to act on it.
Motivation is what drives behavior. It’s the force behind goals, habits, procrastination, persistence, even rebellion. And it’s just as complex as emotion.
There are two broad types of motivation: intrinsic and extrinsic.
Intrinsic motivation comes from within. It’s when you do something because it feels meaningful, interesting, or aligned with who you are. Reading a book because you’re curious. Practicing a skill because you enjoy the challenge. Volunteering because it connects to your values. Intrinsic motivation tends to be more sustainable, because it’s tied to identity and purpose.
Extrinsic motivation comes from outside. It’s when you do something to get a reward or avoid a consequence. Studying for a test to get a good grade. Going to work to earn money. Following a rule to avoid punishment. These motivations can be effective, especially in the short term, but they don’t always last once the reward or threat disappears.
The most powerful forms of motivation often include both. You might start a habit because of an external push, but keep it because it starts to feel internal. Or vice versa.
Psychologist Abraham Maslow proposed one of the most influential models of human motivation. You’ve probably heard of it—Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. It’s often shown as a pyramid.
At the base are physiological needs—food, water, shelter. If those aren’t met, nothing else matters. Next is safety—physical safety, financial security, health. Then comes love and belonging—friendship, intimacy, family. After that, esteem—self-respect, recognition, achievement. And finally, at the top, is self-actualization—the desire to grow, to fulfill your potential, to live with purpose.
Maslow’s point wasn’t that you have to fully satisfy one level before moving to the next. But unmet basic needs tend to dominate your attention. If you’re hungry, unsafe, or unloved, your mind won’t care much about abstract goals. You’ll be in survival mode.
Modern psychologists have expanded on this idea, especially with new understandings of trauma. Some people live in states of chronic survival. Their nervous systems are always scanning for danger. Their goals are short-term, their energy is spent on basic regulation. That’s not laziness. It’s biology. And it means that motivation, for them, isn’t about willpower—it’s about nervous system capacity.
Another useful model comes from psychologist Edward Deci and Richard Ryan, who developed Self-Determination Theory. It says that we’re most motivated when three basic psychological needs are met: autonomy, competence, and relatedness. Autonomy is the feeling that you have control over your actions. Competence is the feeling that you’re capable. Relatedness is the feeling of connection to others.
When these three needs are supported, motivation flourishes. When they’re blocked—by micromanagement, isolation, or constant failure—motivation withers.
This helps explain why some work environments drain people. Why school can kill curiosity. Why relationships can stall. Because motivation isn’t just about setting goals. It’s about whether the environment supports your sense of self, agency, and connection.
It also helps explain procrastination. Most people think procrastination is about laziness. It’s not. It’s about emotion. Specifically, avoidance. When a task feels overwhelming, or when it threatens your self-worth, or when you fear judgment or failure, your brain avoids it to protect you. The delay provides temporary relief. And that relief reinforces the avoidance.
Breaking procrastination patterns means understanding the emotional root. What are you protecting yourself from? What story are you telling yourself about the task—or about yourself?
And that brings us to goals. Because motivation often shows up in goal-setting. But not all goals are created equal.
Psychologist Carol Dweck introduced the idea of mindset—specifically, the difference between fixed and growth mindsets. A fixed mindset believes that abilities are static. You’re either good at something or not. A growth mindset believes that abilities can be developed through effort, strategy, and help. People with growth mindsets are more resilient, more motivated, and more likely to persist through challenges—because they don’t interpret struggle as failure. They interpret it as part of the process.
And finally, let’s talk about meaning. Because all motivation eventually runs into the question of why. Why bother? Why try? Why hope?
Meaning is one of the most powerful motivators humans have. When people feel like their actions matter—when they’re tied to something bigger than just outcomes—they can endure discomfort, delay gratification, and move forward through fear. Meaning doesn’t eliminate emotion. But it gives it direction.
So when people ask, how do I stay motivated? The answer is rarely about hacks or tricks. It’s about understanding yourself. Your fears. Your values. Your environment. Your beliefs about failure. Your relationship to emotion. And whether you believe that your effort matters.
Emotion and motivation are not random. They’re patterns. They’re responses. They’re guides. And when you learn to recognize them, name them, and work with them—you start to regain a sense of direction.
In the next lesson, we’ll explore development across the lifespan. How we grow, how we change, what shapes us from infancy through adulthood—and why certain emotional patterns begin so early and run so deep.
Thanks for listening. I’ll see you in Lesson Eight.