Improving Your Ability to be Angry
Numerous arguments exist to conclude that one of the world's most pervasive problems today is an excess of anger. We are all familiar with the extremely loud and their antics: their tantrums, their lack of reason, and their refusal to compromise. Additionally, it appears to be getting worse; we appear to be trapped in a combination of dynamics (political, technical, and environmental) that promises an ever less patient, tranquil, and forgiving future.
However, it may be more realistic, albeit strange sounding, to insist on the polar opposite: that regardless of the impression generated by a publicly vocal angry cohort, the far more prevalent yet (by definition) invisible problem is a contrary tendency, a widespread inability to get angry, a failure to know how to properly and effectively mount a complaint, an inarticulate swallowing of frustration – and the bitterness, subterranean 'acting out,' and low-level depression that follow. For every individual who shouts excessively, at least twenty others have unjustly lost their voice.
We are not discussing delusional wrath here, the kind that causes harm to innocent people and leads nowhere. The idea is not to rehabilitate barbarism; rather, it is to argue for the occasional capacity to speak up – with dignity and poise – in order to rectify one's reasoned sense that something is wrong – and that people around us need to consider an alternate perspective.
We are generally lousy at being angry for the most benign of reasons: in part, because we believe in the complexity of events and the minds of others, which dampens enthusiasm for anything resembling self-righteousness or pride. We convince ourselves – whether in relationships or at work – that others must have legitimate motives for their behavior, that they must be fundamentally kind and decent, and that it would be an insult to their efforts if we raised our hand about a situation we certainly do not fully comprehend.
We frequently inherit our modesty from our youth. Allowing a youngster to express their frustration is a privilege – and not all parents are game. Certain individuals are adamant about having a 'good baby.' They instill in the infant an early understanding that being 'bad' is not amusing and that this is not a home in which youngsters are permitted to 'run rings around' the elders. Difficult moods and tantrums, complains and outbursts are not permitted. While this does secure short-term compliance, paradoxically, preternaturally good behavior is frequently a forerunner to negative emotions, and in severe cases, mental illness, in adulthood. Feeling loved sufficiently to tell parental figures to go to hell and occasionally toss something (soft) across the room is a sign of health; genuinely mature parents set rules and enable their children to break them (occasionally).
Otherwise, there is an inner death that results from having been forced to be too good too fast and to renounce one's point of view without a flare of self-defense. This may manifest itself in relationships as a proclivity to be taken for a ride for many years, not through open abuse (though that is possible), but by the kind of low-level humiliation and taken-for-grantedness that appears to be the lot of those who can't make a fuss. At work, an unwavering commitment to politeness, empathy, and tenderness might create the ideal environment for being walked all over.
At times, we should rediscover the long-forgotten art of gracefully being a bother. The problem for individuals who have never screamed is that they will wind up screaming as a result. That is also beside the point. The objective is a robust yet self-possessed protest: Excuse me, but you're wrecking what's left of my life; I'm very sorry, but you're cauterizing my possibilities of happiness; I beg your forgiveness, but this is sufficient...
We spend a lot of time thinking about vacations and attempting new hobbies. There is a great deal of enthusiasm for learning new languages and trying new cuisines. True exoticism and adventure, on the other hand, may be found closer to home: in the emotional realm, and in the daring and inventiveness required to attempt suppressed anger, perhaps tonight after supper. We already have the speeches drafted in our thoughts. There is almost certainly a spouse, a parent, a colleague, or a child who hasn't heard from us in an unfathomable amount of time – and with whom a word would be of incalculable benefit to our heart rate and mental and physical constitution. The timid constantly fear that fury would destroy everything that is good. They forget – as their childhoods taught them – that fury may also act as a manure for the emergence of something far less bitter and far more vibrant.