An Introspection Piece on Anger
By Angel Gomez
Ever since I was young, anger is something I have known intimately. My family was angry, therefore so was I.
Yelling, violence and fear were common in my house. Fights that never had lasting solutions surrounded my home like fire.
This is probably the reason why I have always viewed anger as something that cannot be controlled. Anger with my family had always felt like wildfire, once it was lit there was nothing that could stop it.
I had found comfort in that at an early age, after bottling all these frustrations up, it was deemed acceptable to let loose, releasing all of that anger. Letting go of all the anger felt freeing, like a weight off my chest that had been crushing me.
A feeling of freedom and satisfaction would wash over me only to be left with a hollow and haunting feeling. I was always scared of losing control of myself because by not wanting to be like my family, I always ended up being like them and am reminded of that fact.
Whenever I did lose control, violence was involved and after all that anger only guilt would remain. Particularly for whoever caught it that day.
I always used to get in fights when I was young. I never meant to get in any, but all the anger would go rushing out before I knew it. I always felt bad about those school fights, I know I was a child, but some of those kids definitely didn't deserve it.
As I got older It became a goal not to lash out as I once did. I became scared of my anger and what would happen if I was not able to control it.
One particular time that this fear was on blatant display happened when a boy tried to hit me jokingly. I told him not to, time and time again but he was reluctant to listen.
So, when he had finally tried, I placed him in a chokehold, put him on the ground, and told him to leave me alone.
After I let him go, he was dead set on a fight. He kept trying to hit me and I told him I did not want to fight him repeatedly. But this did not seem to calm him down. Eventually, someone grabbed him, and I just left.
I was scared that I would not be able to stop myself. I would keep hitting him until he could not fight back. I kept getting these images in my head of what I would have done, and it scared me knowing that was inside of me.
That fear of my family became a fear of myself. That fear became hate and I never wanted to blame my family for their wrongdoings, so I only blamed myself.
I hated myself for so long and was angry at every single thing I did. I wanted to kill myself; I almost did.
But things got better, they always do. Sometimes it is just hard to see that.
I eventually realized that anger is an emotion like happiness or sadness. It did not have to be this all-consuming wildfire I had mistaken it for. It could be useful in fact.
Anger for me, is trying to tell us something we are frustrated about.
Once I got professional help, communicating my frustrations instead of bottling them up became easy.
I began to accept my anger, not as an all-consuming wildfire that would burn everything in sight. But as a guiding lantern, to help me understand myself.