Yesterday, I woke up to a very angry husband professing how he wasn’t a violent man, but how he wanted to punch Donald Trump in the mouth. He was so angry–angrier than I have ever seen him. Until now my husband had been calm in comparison to my daily outrage over each new executive order and stupid tweet. My otherwise gentle husband confessed that his avoidance of the news had staved off his outrage until yesterday morning. I don’t know what possessed him to finally watch the news, but he did and there it was: angry energy demanding release. Anger is an explosive force. Unless you’re one of those people who has learned to manage anger without destroying people, then it is best to avoid it. But if you’ve learned how to channel anger, then anger serves its true purpose as a powerful motivator and great fuel for positive action.
These days a lot of us are angry. I know I am. And for good reason. I care about human dignity, the environment, and just plain fairness. Some might call this righteous indignation. Whatever the name, when it boils up inside, it unleashes an enormous amount of emotional and physical energy. If you’ve ever spent time with a baby, you realize that even the youngest among us expresses anger with screams, tantrums, and throwing things. I think God created us this way. But managing anger is a learned skill. I think we are meant to use anger in the way Jesus did when he drove the money changers out of the temple. He was angry and that anger fueled his actions in a constructive and instructive way. However, the Bible (in Genesis), also gives us an example of destructive action that is fueled by anger when Cain murders his brother Able.
The lesson is that unmanaged anger can hurt people, ruin relationships, and damage goods. I remember the time my brother thought it would be funny to wake me from a nap by pouring ice water on me. Enraged, I picked up a glass from the nightstand and without thinking, I hurled it at him as he raced through the bedroom door. The glass shattered against the door, narrowly missing him. I was nine. My mother was wise to punish us both. That day, I learned not to channel my anger by breaking things. In pre-school, at age 4, I hit my best friend Laura with a block, earning me the humiliation of a seat in the corner. It was such a traumatic event. I still remember the rage I felt toward her that fueled my assault, and from that incident I developed a true aversion to physical violence. I can’t watch boxing to this day. My mother never allowed name-calling in our house and I don’t recall ever calling anyone a name. We learned to argue issues, not to name call. For a while, I expressed anger with tears, silence, and self-imposed timeouts. I was genuinely afraid of my own anger. Eventually, I learned that anger should be expressed, and that it really could be expressed without destroying people and things. I recall being an angry teenage girl telling my older brothers, “Don’t pay any attention to my tears; listen to my words”. I’ve finally lost the angry tears, but I’ve kept the words. However, before using any words, I’ll take a walk to cool down or talk to a disinterested third party to vent before I formulate the words to confront the object of my anger. Knowing where the anger is coming from is important to learning how to manage it.
I’m not a psychologist. In truth, in high school I took two psychology classes and loved them so much that I actually proclaimed that my career goal was to be a psychologist. But then a wise person suggested that I shadow/interview a psychologist to see what they did from day to day. So, I did just that and afterward I promptly discarded any notion of a career spent listening to other people’s problems every day. I did however, earn a master’s degree in counseling and guidance. And one thing I learned is that anger is a secondary emotion. It springs from fear, disappointment, frustration, hurt, or injustice.
My husband’s anger was a result of his fear that Donald Trump was going to get us into a war and his frustration that he believes we elected a stupid person, self-interested person. He said he felt helpless to do anything about the situation so he was trying to avoid hearing about any of it. I told my husband that while he couldn’t punch Donald Trump in the mouth, that he could and should express his anger in some way. When angry, I believe we will either implode or explode, and a “controlled” explosion is infinitely better for one’s mental and physical health. I volunteered to accompany him to a protest if he wanted. I told him how I and others called or wrote to our senators, representatives, and the White House to the point where they had to shut down the phone lines. The point is that our righteous anger should be directed where it belongs: towards the people who can do our nation harm. And when the time comes in two years, we’ll vote. In my case, I’m also going to work with others on getting out the vote, too.
To my way of thinking, avoidance, denial, and ignorance of our collective situation may keep anger in check, but it’s not necessarily helpful. Like Jesus, I feel an obligation to defend my country against those who would corrupt or destroy it. But if you’re one of those people who hasn’t learned to manage or channel anger, then go ahead and avoid the news–it’s probably safer for you and everyone else that way. For me, I channel my anger by writing an email to this president and my representatives (Democrats – to encourage them in the fight), but also to Paul Ryan (Speaker of the House) and Mitch McConnell (Senate majority leader). I write as often as my anger flares up. It just so happens that right now that’s pretty much every day.