Reflection From a Pastor Who Went Through Anger Management Therapy

Recently, a friend of mine thanked me for my ability to remain calm under pressure after an event at which we both volunteered. I took a deep breath after that and held space for gratitude, because once, many moons ago, my reactions to stress were quite different. Folks have commented on my “non-anxious presence,” as it has sometimes been labelled, and the gratitude I feel in offering that kind of presence is mutli-faceted. I’m grateful that I can provide a non-anxious presence to others, I’m grateful for the ways it also keeps me centered, present, and calm, and I’m grateful that I have done the work necessary to manage my anger as it is a step towards being accountable for the times in my past when I have not.

There was once a time in my life when I had almost Jekyll and Hyde-esque shifts in my mood. I would feel my chest tighten, and my blood almost boiling, and it came on so quickly, so ferociously, I didn’t know where to put it. Reactions varied, but included shouting, slamming doors and, at times, self-harm. I felt deeply ashamed about it, and so I sought therapy. This was when I was diagnosed with PTSD, I was in my early 20s. I began to research trauma and its effects on the body, which was when I came across Bessel Van Der Kolk’s book, The Body Keeps the Score. It explains, in great detail, the chemical effects of trauma on the body, that often manifest into fight or flight responses due to a rapid increase in stress hormones, that often feel disproportionate to the actual event occurring.

During my therapy, I learned that my anger responses were essentially like a shaken-up soda with the lid suddenly removed. In a sense, it was messy. But the anger can still come up, just in little spurts, as one does when opening a temperamental carbonated beverage. I have learned ways of releasing excessive stress hormones in healthier ways that do not cause harm to myself or others. But it’s hard. It’s really hard.

I say all of this because I, along with so many others, are recognizing the pervasiveness of anger. It feels like people have shorter and shorter fuses every day, exacerbated by rhetoric which has divided us to an extent where directing one's anger at another is encouraged. It’s corrosive, and as someone who has personally lived with the negative repercussions of living in a constant state of anger, I grieve for the perpetual tension surrounding us. But I have tried, to the best of my ability, to honor my feelings when I find myself in the path of another’s anger. I allow myself to feel the necessary hurt or frustration that those situations warrant, but I don’t allow it to make a home in my body. I take a deep breath, I tell myself that wasn’t okay, but that I hope something good happens to that person today. There were times when tenderness amid my anger was like the rot being pulled from my roots so I could breathe again.

I don’t claim to have a solution for the world’s anger, but I have been on a journey for many years to learn how to be softer, more tender, and show grace. We all feel anger, but we need each other to be accountable to the ways that anger manifests. And at the end of each day, share a glimpse of hope that one, small, good thing happens that takes the weight of the world’s grief off our chests.