Getting Over Getting Mad: Positive Ways to Manage Anger in Your Most Important Relationships (3 page)

When feeling out of sorts, try to see all the details of what happened. Perhaps somebody insulted you. Perhaps a memory of old rejection, or a wound from the past needs healing. Perhaps you're feeling left out. Close your eyes and review the situation. Run the scene in your mind and lean into the pain as it arises. Let it hurt like hell, cry, scream, pound your fists. Go into it, don't avoid it. Accept it and experience it. Joy and pain go
together—they're both part of life. If you numb yourself to pain, you will also be numb to joy.

Anger is like armor—we put it on to protect ourselves from pain. It never works, because the ache is underneath.

You're upset, you feel a rush of adrenaline, and you say to yourself, “To hell with it!,” but you know you aren't thinking straight. You don't want to lose your composure, but you do. You're shaking and you can't remember anything good about the person who ten minutes earlier was the love of your life. Well, you're human.

All human beings get angry. We get mad, blow up, lose our cool, get miffed, throw temper tantrums, get agitated, rant and rave, scream, get pissed off, pout, and sulk. You have, I have, and so have many saints. We've blown up with good reason, and we've been up in arms when we weren't sure why.

Men, women, and children of all ages get angry. Men get angry at women, women get angry at men. Parents lose their patience and snap at their children; children fuss, holler, and throw temper tantrums. Brothers and sisters squabble, lovers quarrel and make up. Husbands and wives have spats, blame each other, defend themselves, apologize, and have the same old argument over again. Coworkers, team members, employers, and employees have differences. It's integral to the human condition.

Brain science offers insight on why we fly off the handle so easily. Everything we see and hear is scanned by the part of the brain called the amygdala. The amygdala—the keeper of emotional memories—sends emergency messages to the rest of the brain and body, ordering instantaneous “fight or flight” when it perceives danger. Unfortunately the amygdala doesn't do the best job of analyzing the information; it often sends an emergency message when there really isn't one.

But brain science doesn't console you when you're shaking. So you try to justify your behavior. Sometimes you're able find good reasons to be mad, and you end up feeling smug. Unfortunately, feeling smug and selfrighteous doesn't add much love or affection to your relationships, and if you continue in that habitual pattern, you'll end up more alone then you've ever been. When all is said and done, it's the quality of your relationship with those you love that matters. Are you using anger to improve your relationships, or are you pushing family, friends, and colleagues away?

To remain close to our loved ones, to live joyful lives, we have to manage our anger. We need to keep each other emotionally and physically
safe. Our loved ones must be able to trust that even though we're angry, we will not hurt them with our words or actions. They need reassurance that if we are upset, we'll tell them directly. We won't hold it against them or stab them in the back.

Here's a pledge to make: I'm human, and it's natural to get upset. So that I don't hurt myself or others, I will learn to express my anger constructively.

It's a blessing to know when you're angry. My client, Annie, told me about the time she discovered a small blessing in her anger:

Rachelle walked into the door of our apartment wearing my black short skirt and my favorite blue sweater. I saw her and thought to myself, “Those clothes sure look familiar.” Right away she announces, “I borrowed your clothes. I hope that's OK?” I was shocked into numbness at her audacity, but that lasted about two seconds, and before she was out of the hallway, I was boiling. “No, it's not OK! I want you to ask me before you borrow my things.” I didn't yell, but she knew that I was unhappy.

I finished eating my lunch and wondered why she thought that it was OK to walk in to my room and take my clothes without checking with me. Later when I saw that she had thrown my clothes on the bed, I was bubbling up again.

I called three people to check out if I was being ridiculous and if my angry feelings were justified. My friends listened to the story, and all of them said they could understand my feelings. That night I wrote Rachelle a letter explaining why her actions bothered me. I told her I didn't want her to borrow anything in my room or bathroom without asking permission. She could use anything in the rest of the apartment, but my room and bathroom were off limits. I taped the letter to her door and I went to bed. I felt better, but I was nervous about what she might say. The next morning she was gone, but she'd left me a note saying that she was sorry and wouldn't do it again. The following day the awkwardness between us was gone.

Annie was angry but she didn't attack. Instead of directing her anger at Rachelle, she took charge of her own emotions. She acknowledged her predicament and gave herself the day to calm down. She thought about what results she wanted to achieve. Annie decided that a sensible approach was needed to enhance her relationship with her roommate.

Annie discovered, as you can too, that it's good to know that you're angry; it's good to talk it over with friends; it's good to handle it quickly, set limits, and clear the air. It's good for you, for your friendships, for love
relationships, for families, at work. It's good to know that it's possible for you to get angry and handle it well.

Anger can be a positive force for change—not for changing others, but for changing yourself.

It's a sign of good mental health when we accept the negative aspects of our personalities. Carl Jung called these negative qualities our “shadow side.” If you don't recognize your shadow, it will sneak up on you, cause you harm, haunt you, and eventually destroy you. When you suppress a thought or feeling that exists within you and pretend it isn't there, you relegate it to the basement of your consciousness. Suppressing your shadow side gives it the greatest possible power over you.

The person who denies his angry tendencies operates under the false assumption that by avoiding looking at anger, it will go away. He is only fooling himself. Striving to hide our anger gets us into more trouble, causes more frustration, and sometimes brings about a neurosis where none existed before. The harder you try to hide your inclinations, the more miserable you become. Other people can tell when you're angry, and even though you deny it to yourself, you're not fooling anyone.

Insight is the ability to see what we do without making harsh judgments against ourselves. Insight allows us to understand our actions so that we can choose how to behave next time. It puts us in charge of our behavior, empowers us, and makes us responsible for our feelings and our actions. Examining our angry patterns is the first step to finding another way.

There's great liberation in naming our angry tendencies. Only when we don't admit to something does it have power to control us. Bring it into the light, and its power is greatly reduced. Jill admits that she pouts and gets sarcastic when she's mad. Robert is like a lot of guys: the only emotion he shows is anger. With a little bit of honest self-examination both were able to overcome self-defeating leanings. Here's the exercise they did; you might want to try it. On a sheet of paper, write this sentence five times: “When I get angry, I. . . .”

Now go back and fill in the blanks. Jill wrote, “When I get angry I try to pretend I'm not, say snide things, worry about it for days, get headaches, and get depressed.” Robert wrote, “When I get angry I think the worst of people, think nothing will ever work out, slam doors, drink too much, get mean.”

Now do as Jill and Robert did, and ask yourself, “Does this behavior suit me?” If pouting works for you, you can certainly keep doing it, but if it
doesn't fit you anymore, identifying your tendency frees you to explore what behavior could replace it. Facing the truth—especially the difficult truths about ourselves—-is an exhilarating experience and a courageous act. The very decision to know the truth is in itself is an act of self-acceptance. Facing the angry aspects of your personality means you're willing to face your own life, and by doing so you can use anger as a catalyst for something new.

Acknowledging our own imperfections gives us power over them.

If you're worried that feeling or expressing anger means that you're a bad person, here's a Zen story to consider:

A young student goes to his master and says, “My problem is that I'm angry and I can't seem to do anything about it. Will you help me?”

The master responds, “Show me your anger.”

The student objects, saying, “I can't show it to you, because I'm not angry right now.”

“Very well,” replied the master. “Then the next time that you're angry, bring your anger directly to me.”

“Oh, but I can't do that either,” the student explains, “because by the time I get to you I won't be angry any-more.”

The master nodded and said, “You can't show me your anger and you can't bring your anger to me because anger is not your true nature.”

The Zen story raises two of life's big questions: “What is our true nature?” and, “What is my anger?” All the great teachers, from Buddha to Aristotle to Jesus, call us to reflect on these questions and to consider what our deepest nature is, and to discover who we are and how we want to behave.

The great teachers tell us that anger is not our true nature. No matter how angry you are, no matter what angry thoughts you have, no matter what angry acts you've committed, no matter how bitter and resentful you feel, your true nature is not limited by your anger. As a student in the school of life, you're required to complete the course on anger, but your anger is not who you are—you are much, much more.

Use anger to learn about your true nature—what you want and need and who you really are.