the angry place (( part one ))
New Tattoo #1.
Look, I need to tell you something.
Something important.
Something that can be scary to talk about because perhaps you won’t like me any more.
I don’t think I’ve ever just come balls-out and said it, but for reals: I am seriously still on my journey when it comes to anger. So I’m going to do something that feels more than even just a little bit vulnerable, and that is this: write about something while I am seriously still on a journey with it, knowing that I do not have it all neatly summed up and figured out.
BACKGROUND: Some people do a whole lot of work just to get in touch with their anger and recognize that it’s there. I do not need to do that work. I have never ever needed to do that work, because knowing whether or not anger is present for me is like asking whether the light switch is flipped on in the room. I’m acutely aware of when I’m pissed, and I’m acutely aware of when I’m not.
I’m also acutely aware that right now I feel slightly nauseous at the thought of actually publishing this blog post. For what it’s worth, the type of anger I’m talking about here is not rage, or the kind of anger that is so intense that people black out. I’m talking about the work I do on a daily basis to manage a near-constant stream of internal complaints, judgements, irritability, frustration, etc., that will sometimes spill over into losing my temper. Losing my temper looks something like snapping at someone totally unrelated to the situation (cashiers, the person who just put their yoga mat right in front of me, etc.) or really getting a zinger in–one of those seriously angry comments that knows exactly what button to push–while in the midst of a disagreement with someone. And sometimes, a few times a year, if I have not been managing myself well by working my tools, the right confluence of circumstances (usually hunger, sleepiness, and stress + someone who is willing to argue), the anger comes out as a loud, raised voice and a string of expletives. Also, when I’m alone and I’m that pissed? I enjoy throwing things.
Those times are what I call the Fuck My Life Vision moments.
So yeah, a lot, right? Especially because people don’t talk about this. I’m thinking of one friend I had who used to tell me about arguments with her partner and say “And I got so angry!” in the same voice that one would say, “And it was so exciting!” People recount the times they lost their temper often with humor, defusing the Shame Hangover that I think most of us who are really in touch with our anger feel after an outburst.
So what exactly does this white, middle-class, educated and healthy woman have to be angry about?
Well, we could start with being angry at society’s idea that being white, middle-class, educated and healthy means that there is no cause for concern, that a certain set of factors means that one’s problems are neatly wrapped up and taken care of. We could start with all of the times someone has admonished me to be grateful when I was angry. Or the times that someone told me that I was ungrateful for being upset about something (using an upset tone of voice, themselves–irony, yes?). Or we could even start with the general avoidance of seeing anger for what it really is: a sense of powerlessness, and of pain.
Because those of you who are reading this who know what I’m talking about, know what it feels like to inexplicably feel irritated by things like the way your partner is in the other room clinking the pots and pans while you’re typing a blog entry, trying to concentrate, trying to remind yourself that it’s great that someone is cleaning the kitchen and that that someone is not you, and trying to breathe, but dammit not being able to concentrate because of the clanking, and why does he have to be doing that right now?, and then in come the armies of inner critic voices: What’s wrong with you? Why are you so angry? You’re too tense! What’s wrong with you? This is so little! Why is this bothering you? Why can’t you get it together? I’m no good for anyone. I’m a terrible person.
And really, that is the biggest Story. I am angry = I am a terrible person. Done. Over. Finished.
THE PARADOX: Those of us who are in touch with our anger know what that’s like, because of all the negative emotions to feel, anger is the one that causes people to back away. Someone might put an arm around you and ask what’s wrong when you’re crying, but if you’re angry? Not a chance. And then sometimes those of us who are in touch with the angry notice a paradox, where we are both saying Fuck Off to the world and pushing the world away, while simultaneously saying Fuck You to the world because the world stepped back and left us with this pain, alone. This is how it can seem.
People back off from anyone who carries a lot of anger because they (the people) have been on the receiving end of someone else’s anger, and that doesn’t feel good. More than likely, people were on that receiving end at a point in childhood when one neuron fired and some brain pattern emerged that goes something like Anger Is Dangerous Get Away Now. So instead of compassion for the angry person, people think, “What a bitch.”
UNDERSTANDING: For those of you who don’t understand why anyone would be so angry, let me offer: those of us who experience a lot of anger would really love to get away from it, too. In fact, it’s one of the things we’re angry about: Why can’t we just go with the flow like everyone else? Go figure.
But here’s the thing: Those of us who are acutely in touch with our anger got that training from somewhere. We saw it modeled for us. In fact, I’ll argue that the angrier a person is, the more they bore the brunt of someone else’s anger. Compassion is called for.
Furthermore, one of the things that can be hard in owning anger is the fear of being labeled an Angry Person. Notice that I have been using terms like “being/feeling angry” or “experiencing anger” in this post. It’s important to know that no one is angry all of the time. But because of all of the inner critic stuff, the shame, the rejection from others, those of use who are in touch with a lot of anger are really aware of how easily we could be pegged The Angry Person and then man, it’d really be over. We’re never going to get love again if we’re The Angry Person. So many of us who experience a lot of anger are caught in cycle of noticing that things are pissing us off, trying to breath, white-knuckling our way through life or sometimes getting pissed and then experiencing the Shame Hangover, and then promising ourselves that we’re going to stop and be cool and then the whole things happens again. How would we pick up the pieces if we ever let ourselves get the Angry Person label?
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Tomorrow: Part II: What to do if you’re the one experiencing the anger and what to do if you’re involved with someone who experiences a lot of anger–helpful ideas for people on both sides of this issue.
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