Authors: Judy Ford
We can't control what others think of us; in fact, what others think of us is none of our business. Our business is to get over getting mad, to balance the pressures of life with pleasure, to partake in whatever lifts us up, to lend a helping hand. Pansies with smiling faces, cats purring, hanging out with a friend, floating down a river, helping a stranded motorist change a flat tire, volunteering at the soup kitchen, smiling at a stranger are all antidotes to anger. When you find yourself scowling and complaining about what you don't have, it's warning sign that you're so wrapped up in what's wrong that you can't see what's right. It's an indication that what you've been pursuing is not fulfilling you, that you've been blowing your circumstances way out of proportion.
Antidotes to anger neutralize aggravation. Continual angry feelings and thoughts keep the adrenaline pumping; this can have long-term consequences on blood pressure and the health of your heart. Here are a few anger remedies:
What others think of you is none of your business. Your business is to get over getting mad.
My friend Chloe turned sixty while I was writing this book. She said, “I just can't seem to think of anything that gets me riled up enough to be angry anymore. The anger and pain I've felt about things in the past is either gone, or feels like a little ripple with no juice in it.”
My sister-in-law Cathy told me, “Since I'm not mad, it's hard to conjure up the memory. I think over the years I've done just about everything: pout, scream in the car, talk about it indignantly and self-righteously to everyone except the appropriate party, cry my heart out, visualize the person's face on a golf ball (amazing how that improves ball contact), write in a journal, see a therapist, meditate, go jogging, call the person.”
A former client told me, “When I was young the only emotion I knew was anger. If I wanted to talk with someone, I'd get in a tussle to do it. If I was sad, hurt, or worried, I didn't let anyone know. I wouldn't let anyone put one over on me. I was mean. Fortunately, I've outgrown it. My wife, kids, and grandkids tell me I've softened.”
Good wine mellows with age. Perhaps we mellow with seasoning and the awareness that nothing creative or constructive comes from staying mad. As we mature we learn to face life's challenges with a light heart. It's through experience that we discover how laughter gets things moving in a positive direction quicker than griping. In a crisis, it's Grace that shines light on the solution. Cry when you're hurt, use anger as empowerment to fix what you can, let go of resentment, laugh, and move on. When you can do that you've joined the Secret Society of Satisfied Souls.
The Secret Society of Satisfied Souls have earned their diplomas. They've sobbed their broken hearts out in crying class, they've stomped and yelled through anger management, they've laughed at their own foibles. They've graduated and learned to love. They're experts in living. The Secret Society of Satisfied Souls now work for the Institute of Love.
Satisfied Souls from the Institute of Love are always available. If you need to cry, they'll hold your hand. When you're mad, they'll set you straight, and although they'd never force you, they'll make every attempt to protect you from yourself. Satisfied Souls like to sing and dance. You can spot them by the twinkle in their eyes and the spring in their steps. They know just the right moment to tell you a joke. They point out life's absurdity and chuckle along with you. The Secret Society of Satisfied
Souls bow to all of existence; they celebrate life to the fullest, and you, dear friend, are always welcome; you have an open invitation to attend their parties.
In the end you are who you are—discombobulated and cranky or happy and satisfied.
A trustworthy person is angry at the right people, for the right reasons, expresses it in the appropriate manner, and for the appropriate length of time.
—THOMAS AQUINAS
Our love relationships are filled with experiences of profound harmony and union and experiences of great clashing and discord. We're often most angry at the people we most love. Our beloved disappoints us; we're enraged, infuriated, and ready to fight. We hurt each other without intending to and sometimes with intention. We put on our armor and go to war without ever leaving the house.
Anger unites and separates us in the most intriguing ways. Most of us have, at some time, lost it, blown it, freaked out, behaved unreasonably. When anger is expressed in a straightforward manner, it is the simplest of emotions. But because human beings are so complex, the expression and repression of anger becomes complex and quirky.
Adam and Suzanne have very different styles of expressing anger. In front of others, Adam appears mellow and never raises his voice, but behind closed doors he yells. He's easily frustrated, throws tools, slams doors, and punches the wall. He's seething inside; he's lonely but doesn't know what to do about it. Suzanne is verbal, good at debating; when she gets angry, she talks circles around him, then blames him for withdrawing and for being so cold. They have a lot in common, and when they get along life is wonderful, but when one of them is angry, life turns horrid.
You'd like to get along with your partner and behave lovingly all the
time. You feel better when you do, yet no matter how good your intentions, how diligently you try, you fall short. You lash out, you say snotty things, you're sarcastic and cruel. Sometimes you're cold. Your partner tries to be loving to you, but when he gets frustrated he takes it out on you. You get mad, you fight, you say mean things, you blow up, and then things really escalate. You say the one nasty thing that you didn't mean to say and you're off to the races. You feel crummy for hours—sometimes days. You don't like the tension between you, and you want to make up.
Perhaps it's been this way for years; you've been having the same old argument since the honeymoon. “The first fight we had,” said Christy, “was about the fact that he can't say ‘No’ to his mother, and we've been having it ever since.” You promised yourself the last time that you wouldn't get caught again, but you do.
You will fight. You will get angry. You won't get along. You'll see things differently. You'll wonder why you married each other. You'll decide she's the most difficult woman you know; she'll be convinced that you don't care about her anymore. When your husband talks to you like no one has ever talked to you, when you've called him a name that you're mother would shudder at hearing, that's when you're in the thick of things. Angie summed up her situation: “We never get angry and we never make love.”
It's not that you shouldn't fight; it's that you must. You can't smooth out all the wrinkles, but you can smooth out some. You won't agree on everything, you won't find perfect unity all the time, but you can agree to disagree. You'll argue over the inconsequential—like who forgot to put the cap back on the toothpaste and who put the roll of toilet paper on backward; you'll fight about lifestyle preferences—whether to save money or spend it, whether to buy furniture or a new car, whether to have sex or go to sleep. You'll disagree about the children, the budget, the relatives. But that doesn't have to mean the end of happiness; it's how you manage your anger and the sore spots that will make or break your relationship.
Human relationships are a great school. What do they teach? They teach you that your partner has to be considered. That your beloved, with whom you share so much, is different from you. They teach you many things, and ultimately they teach you that you alone are responsible for your behavior and for making your life meaningful and fulfilled. When you stop expecting others to make you happy, you still get angry but you don't stay mad.
Expectations are often a source of friction. One person says, “You promised,” and the other person makes excuses. And then both become self-righteous, each insisting that he or she was right.
Often, when people first get into a relationship, they've been yearning for one. They've been eager for companionship, eager for some tender loving care. Most people come into relationships with high hopes and dreams. And they're excited because they've found someone who is going to fulfill those dreams. Then the partners have their first disagreement. It's not a fight yet; it's only a disagreement. They're still trying to be nice to each other, trying to understand and be courteous. Many of their feelings don't get expressed, and afterward, frequently, there's some resentment. And then one day they have their first real fight. They're not just discussing; they now admit to some real disappointment and differences. Maybe they even get angry.
They start expressing feelings they haven't ever expressed before, feelings they never even knew they had. They try to work them through— and they hardly know what that means at this point—-then the bond between them gets deeper, and they become more committed. When deeper issues come up, once again, they work things through. That's how a relationship gets built. That's how trust develops. The disappointment and the anger and the hurt all get transformed in some way, and it's nothing less than miraculous.
We learn the most about ourselves from the hardest teachers, who often are the people with whom we've chosen to share our lives.
In the twenty-five years that I've been a family therapist, I've collected, with the cooperation of my clients, accounts of some outstanding quarrels. I've asked husbands and wives to write down their fights and bring these accounts to me. I've included some of them in this part of the book. Reading them is fascinating and instructive.