“Sometimes, you have to get angry to get things done.”- Ang Lee
“I realized that if my thoughts immediately affect my body, I should be careful about what I think. Now, if I get angry, I ask myself why I feel that way. If I can find the source of my anger, I can turn that negative energy into something positive.”- Yoko Ono
Fury. Rage. Indignation. Ire. When we discover that we have been betrayed, anger burns with a power that is astonishing and fearsome. Here are three ways to harness it—and three ways to avoid letting it do harm.
1. Let it protect you (at first).
When I first uncovered my husband’s affair, I was in complete shock. I had known that something was terribly wrong in my marriage and had gone so far as to ask if he was having an affair, but when he denied any impropriety, I believed him. Anger, in those first twelve hours, was the territory occupied by my closest friends, whom I contacted right away; not by me. But as the numbing shock wore off, their anger began to spread through me too and soon, I was alight with fury.
People describe having out-of-body experiences when they are being forced to experience something too traumatizing to endure. I believe that anger can, in the early days, be similarly protective. When we are on the verge of being smothered by the pain, anger can swoop in and set us ablaze, and save us.
Women are socialized not to feel anger. But I call bullshit on that. When we have been wronged, anger is exactly the correct emotion to feel.
2. Let it motivate you (in the right direction).
Anger is a shockingly motivating emotion. When it coursed through me, when I saw red, I had to do something to get it out of my body. I took up high-intensity exercise. But because I couldn’t hit the gym every time rage seized me, I also developed a list of labor-intensive chores that would engage my body and mind. I turned to these when fury started to swallow me up. I raked leaves. I swept the deck. I chopped wood. I cleaned out the fridge. I purged items from the closets and hauled them to Goodwill.
These actions allowed me to harness the energy of the anger. They left me feeling less restless inside, and gave me a more tidy, clean, peaceful environment in which to dwell.
3. Let it teach him (and you).
We feel anger when our boundaries have been violated. We feel anger when injustice has been done. Anger was one hell of an indicator for my husband. My anger made it very, very clear to him that his actions, which he had been justifying to himself for weeks, were profoundly unjustified.
My anger was also an indicator to me. I found myself raging to a friend that if anyone should have had an affair it was me, given that my husband had spent years underinvesting in our marriage, forcing me to be the one who kept our relationship on track. After I said it, I paused. I hadn’t fully realized how resentful our marriage dynamic had made me until I hurled those words out into the world.
Pay attention to your anger. It is a flashing arrow, pointing towards specific tender spots, injustices, or insecurities that you might not even have realized were there.
4. Force it to submit to reason.
“Don’t do anything crazy” is some excellent advice I read in several different places after I uncovered my husband’s affair. Anger is so powerful that it can drive us to do “crazy” (i.e., reckless and misguided) things we would never otherwise do. Things we will very likely regret once the anger fades. These include engaging in physical violence, destroying his property, having a revenge affair, or smearing his reputation. Bad-mouthing the cheater to children is an especially misguided and harmful thing to do.
When you are seeing red, it can be hard not to give in to vengeful impulses. But resist.
5. Prevent it from rewiring your brain.
I used to think that when a person felt anger, venting that anger was an important way of purging it from one’s body and mind. But that is actually scientifically incorrect. In fact, the more you think something or feel something, the more you strengthen the neural pathways that lead to that thought or feeling.
Imagine it snowed heavily last night and you are standing at your back door. At one side of the backyard is the woodpile. At the other is your Zen meditation zone. Everything is covered in a lovely thick blanket of snow. You decide to go over to the woodpile and kick it to release your anger. You stomp out, do it, and come back. It feels good. You decide to do it again. And again. And again. Now look down at the ground. There’s a well-worn path to the woodpile. There is nothing leading to the meditation zone.
Every time rage washed over me, I allowed myself to feel my anger fully—for one minute. Then, I took measures to prevent it from taking up residence in my brain by forcing my thoughts and feelings elsewhere.
My mind is like an art gallery and I am the curator of what is on display.
6. Let it go.
I am grateful to the formidable anger that inhabited me in the first few days after D-day. It was there to protect me and to teach me. But anger can quickly become toxic, and I did not want to be an angry person.
I also knew deep down (very deep down) that holding on to anger would not keep me safe, which meant that releasing it would not place me in danger.
Letting go of my anger is not something that happened naturally over time—I had to really work at it. It was a long and slow and boring process that involved meditation and journaling and therapy and simply making the hard choice, over and over, to not allow anger to linger in my heart or in my mind. There was no discernable benefit for a long time.
And then, eventually, there was.
In yoga, there are several warrior poses. Warriors I and II (virabhadrasana I and II) look the most impressive, with their raised arms and steady, fierce gazes. But the one that’s hardest to hold is the one entitled Peaceful Warrior (shatni virabhadrasana). When you move into this position, you make yourself defenseless. One hand rises upwards and slightly back while the other slides down the back leg. The heart and the throat are wide open, exposed.
To the outside world, it looks graceful. Only the Peaceful Warrior herself knows how much effort that apparent effortlessness requires.
