drglenndoyle

Experiencing anger doesn’t make you an “angry person.” But denying and disowning it…

You’re going to hear it said that anger is just “sadness’s bodyguard”— but I don’t believe that. 

I believe that anger, while it frequently occurs alongside sadness, is its own thing— as real and valid and independent as any experience, emotional or otherwise. 

Remember that anger evolved for a reason. 

The cave-people who could get angry when other cave-people tried to encroach upon their territory and steal their mates and wooly mammoths and stuff, had a survival advantage over those cave-people who couldn’t. 

Anger, evolutionarily speaking, gives us a rush of focus and energy to defend our territory. 

Anger is important. Anger is valid. Anger matters. 

It it sometimes the case that our anger in a specific situation is actually about a different situation, maybe from the past? Sure— but that doesn’t make it invalid. 

The worst thing we can do for and with our anger is to dismiss it as nothing more than the “bodyguard” of another feeling. 

Anger, properly understood and responsibly managed, can be one of our most important trauma recovery tools. 

Of course, denied, disowned, misunderstood, and mismanaged, our anger can be as destructive to us as our abusers’ anger was back then. 

That’s why it’s so important that we take time to understand, validate, and manage our anger— precisely so we DON’T become our abusers in how we react (instead of respond) to our anger. 

Sometimes I get sh*t for being pro-anger— but I don’t know what to tell you. Anger is as important and valid as anything else we can experience. 

Meeting our anger with denial or shame is psychologically and even physically harmful to us. 

I recommend meeting anger just like we meet anything and everything else in trauma recovery: with compassion, patience, realism, and respect. 

Experiencing anger doesn’t make you an “angry person.” 

But denying and disowning your anger probably will. 

drglenndoyle

Our difficulties with emotional regulation are not our fault– but learning emotional regulation is our responsibility.

We’re not born knowing how to regulate our emotions. 

We have to be taught. Trained. Supported.

When it comes to what most of us were taught about how to manage our feelings, many of us are left at kind of a loss. 

We were told versions of “suck it up” a lot. 

We were told, directly and indirectly, that crying was certainly NOT an acceptable way to manage any feeling. 

We were told that “managing” feelings meant, basically, not being reactive to them. That not showing our feelings was tantamount to being “mature.” 

Mind you: we were given precious, precious little guidance or support in actually managing our feelings. 

We were, essentially, told to “figure it out.” 

Some of us were told “figure it out— or else.” 

Or else what? We’d be shamed. We’d be punished. We’d be abandoned, maybe.

“Suck it up” isn’t actually an emotional management strategy. 

What does “suck it up” entail, exactly? No one seems to know. We just know when we’ve failed to “suck it up”— usually because we’re crying. 

It’s not your fault that no one taught you how to regulate your feelings. 

Those humans who did learn to successfully regulate their emotions are usually those humans who had kind, supportive adults around them who took care to talk them through tough moments. 

When we have kind, supportive adults around us who are willing to talk us through tough moments, with presence and realism, that’s what we internalize. We learn to model them. We build a skill. 

When we do not have those kind, patient, emotionally intelligent adults around us to talk us through tough moments, what do we internalize? 

Impatience. Shame. The inclination to belittle ourselves when we struggle with something we’re not familiar with or that we find overwhelming. 

What we need to understand and accept is that struggling to regulate our emotions, when we didn’t have the guidance, support, and safety to learn and practice that skillset, is normal. 

It’s not our “weakness.” 

It’s not our “brokenness.” 

It’s not our “immaturity.” 

How were we supposed to learn how to do something we never saw done? 

How were we we supposed to get good at something we never had the safety to practice? 

Emotional regulation is one of the most complex tasks human beings face— and it’s a particularly complex task when we’re dealing with the particularly intense, particularly painful feelings experienced by trauma survivors. 

I’ll say it again: we’re not born knowing how to do that. 

When we fail to receive training and support in learning how to do that— when our experiences TRYING to do that are met with scorn— not only do we NOT learn how to regulate our emotions…but we DO learn that the entire project of emotional regulation is fraught. 

We develop anxiety around it. 

Eventually we get in the habit of avoiding emotional regulation altogether— that is to say, we get in the habit of dissociating. 

Yeah. That’s how that happens. 

Realistic emotional regulation starts with refusing to beat ourselves up for not being great at it. 

It starts with accepting emotional regulation as something we need to, and can, learn as adults. 

It starts with meeting our struggles with emotional regulation with compassion and patience— because poor emotional regulation is a symptom of complex trauma, and the rule in trauma recovery is that we meet symptoms with compassion and patience. 

Actually, make that “radical compassion” and “infinite patience.” 

Our difficulties with emotional regulation are not our fault. 

Learning effective emotional regulation IS our responsibility— which is why we can’t afford to waste time with shaming and punishing ourselves. 

Easy does it.