Learning to Get Angry Again
Letting go of rage was not a good decision
I remember watching her expression change, her raised eyebrows relax and her eyes fill with tears. My sister looked at me with bewilderment, trying to keep her stand in our argument without getting affected by my mean comments that she had just heard.
I realised in that moment, the pain that my words could cause people, words that were carelessly spewed out in the heat of the moment. Being responsible for someone’s tears felt horrible, enough for me to resolve to never let it happen again.
Never, even if someone might be yelling at me, hurting me. I’d be patient, I’d be calm, I’d be empathetic. I’d listen to them, respond with kindness and logic, and wouldn’t let emotion get the best of me.
And I succeeded. I trained myself to gulp down my rage and exasperation and to always respond with the voice of reason. I started leaving conversations with satisfaction, pride even, about not having lost my cool. I have thus spent years of my life managing conflicts and smoothing out tensions in my relationships.
I can proudly claim that I never, ever, get angry!
But I have to admit that there’s another side to this decision, that I’m only now beginning to notice:
- Arguments with me might be smooth, but they don’t always result in solutions. Instead of focusing on the subject at hand, I spend my energy trying to ensure peace. Sure I always know what to say to calm people down, but that leaves the underlying problem unresolved.
- Often, my lack of agitation makes the other involved person question my devotion to them and to the issue at hand. Since I refuse to match their anger, they’re left feeling lonely in our conversations.
- Moreover, this practice has enabled my people-pleasing tendencies further. My goal is to meet their needs, I end up feeling unheard. I don’t stand up for myself when I should, lest I take up too much space and hurt someone else in the process.
I realised only last month that this was a real problem. A friend remarked that she never knew I cared about her having violated my privacy recently, even though that was something I’d overthought and cried about for days. She shrugged her shoulders and said, “You never said anything!”
Well of course I didn’t say anything! I couldn’t let my anger show and communicate that she had betrayed my trust, because such a display of emotion felt unnecessary.
But something about her casual tone made me feel at ease about sharing my thoughts that I’d always kept private —
“I didn’t like it”.
Four words that took so much energy, but felt incredibly empowering. Four words that suddenly lifted a weight off my mind.
This felt new, somehow right and wrong at the same time. It was like taking a first step in the ocean, feeling the pressures from the waterbed and the waves, and learning to walk under new conditions. It’s funny how sometimes common human experiences can still feel alien like this.
I’m doing it more often now, practicing walking in the ocean, sometimes even going for swims. And I’m doing it with a bit more assertion every time.
“I don’t like it!”
But the water can get deep.
In this new-found practice of getting angry without guilt, I sometimes venture too far away and find myself close to causing someone’s tears again. It scares me and I tend to immediately pull back. But this is a skill that needs practice, I suppose: To allow myself to share my uglier feelings, but to do it only as much as is acceptable, safe. To push the boundaries of relationships, so I can make sure to maintain my own. To read the room and my company well and act according to the occasion.
This is proving to be a complex practice, and it looks like I have a long way to go. Yet, I know it’s an important one. Anger, just like any other emotion, is an inherently human one. Suppressing it means not allowing myself to experience life to the fullest. And that is something I would never let go of.
