Acknowledging Anger

August 3, 2026

For most of my life, I thought anger was bad.

I thought it meant someone had lost control, lost perspective, or lost composure.

If someone responded to life with anger, I quietly judged them.

And if I ever felt angry myself, I assumed it meant there was something I needed to fix.

People hurt me.

People used me.

People abandoned me.

People betrayed me.

People stole from me.

People abused me.

And I just let it go,

often allowing those people to stay in my life and continue hurting me.

I thought I was just supposed to empathize,

turn the other cheek,

forgive, smile

and be good.

I didn't even know what boundaries were until about 4 years ago,

let alone standards.

About ten years ago, therapy helped me realize something I had never noticed.

I was remarkably disconnected from my own emotions.

I just always thought I was fine. Even though I was so far from fine.

Even during some of the most stressful periods of my life, I didn't know I was stressed.

I just assumed I wasn't doing life very well.

So I worked harder.

Tried harder.

Criticized myself more.

Powered through.

Looking back, it's amazing how little awareness I had of what was happening inside me.

Learning to recognize stress was only the beginning.

Over time, I began recognizing sadness.

Longing.

Joy.

Disappointment.

Fear.

And eventually...

Anger.

At first it wasn’t dramatic. It was simply noticing that I didn’t like something. That something felt unfair. That a person's behavior made me mad.

That was new for me.

It felt uncomfortable, and healthy.

Then my life handed me an experience I wasn’t prepared for.

I was profoundly betrayed by someone I had trusted with my whole heart.

And for the first time in my forty-eight years, I experienced rage.

Not irritation.

Not frustration.

Rage.

That emotion arrived with an intensity I had never known before.

Over the past year and a half, it has come in waves.

At first, I worried about it.

I wondered what was wrong with me.

This wasn’t who I was.

But slowly I began to understand that the anger wasn’t the whole story.

It was pointing toward something deeper.

Underneath it was grief.

Hurt.

Disbelief.

Shock.

Loss.

The anger wasn’t replacing those emotions.

It was protecting them.

And once I stopped judging myself for feeling it, something else happened.

I stopped fighting it.

I didn’t act on it.

I didn’t make major decisions from it.

I didn’t allow it to define me.

Instead, I became curious.

What is this anger trying to protect?

What hurt is underneath it?

What part of me needs care right now?

Writing became one of the ways I answered those questions.

Conversation helped.

Therapy helped.

Sometimes it was as simple as letting myself cry instead of pretending I was fine.

And nearly everytime, acknowledging when I am angry has helped to soothe that feeling.

Little by little, the anger, grief, disbelief, confusion, humiliation, and shock moved through me.

I also want to be clear about something.

I refuse to become bitter.

Anger and bitterness are not the same thing.

Bitterness settles in.

It hardens.

It begins to shape how we see everyone and everything.

I don't want that for my life.

Anger doesn't have to do that.

Anger can simply be an honest response to something that should never have happened.

It can point us toward the hurt that still needs our attention.

And once we've acknowledged that hurt with honesty and compassion, it can move through us.

I still experience anger.

But I don't experience it the same way anymore.

I don't see it as a character flaw.

I don't see it as losing control.

I don't see it as something to fear.

I see it as part of being human.

One emotion among many.

One that deserves acknowledgment instead of judgment.

For me, it has become a reminder that my feelings matter.

That my values matter.

That I matter.

And that I don't have to apologize for feeling angry when something deeply important has been violated.

And I was profoundly violated.

It is my job to protect me,

and that is exactly what I am doing.

Forever and always.