@#$%&!
“Anger is an Energy”
If I don’t get to the nail salon in time, I use my teeth to trim my cuticles. It’s an awful habit that I’ve had since fifth grade, when Marty Goldstein made it look cool, simultaneously showing off his thick leather wristband as he gnawed his fingertips. I winced as the manicurist cut back my jagged skin today and wondered if these Vietnamese ladies enjoyed listening to Neil Young, the Allman and Doobie Brothers, or if they were catering to their mostly white clientele in Marina Del Rey. Last time I was here, they were running old videos of young Rhianna, Queen Bey and other pop superstars on their flat screen TV, but today it’s Jerry Springer. Burly security guards are separating two women in a full-on brawl, pulling each other’s hair out to a delighted roomful of audience cheers and laughter. Though the rage between them seems real, it’s hard to imagine that those onlookers would be getting such a kick out of witnessing violent hatred.
Yesterday morning, as I jaywalked in front of my kid’s school, a man barreled down the street intentionally trying to hit me. Later in the day, a middle-aged woman in a minivan gave me the finger at an intersection for trying to merge into traffic. Today as two lanes blended into one, a millenial in a VW Jetta mouthed “fuck you” to me as she sped up so I couldn’t get in. Is anger in the air, or am I just a bad driver?
I lose my temper on the phone with Medco when they get my prescription wrong. I turn heads at the Apple store, raising my voice at the Apple Genius when my computer isn’t ready as promised. Two of my students – brilliant and accomplished Type A folks - confide in me about their rage with heaps of shame, like it’s a deep, dark secret.
We all have stories of anger and no one feels good about it. I’m learning to accept mine as a difficult emotion, one that passes if I acknowledge it instead of pushing it away. I do my best to respond instead of reacting. I learn the lesson - over and over - that reaction produces disastrous results.
There’s a tool I use to remind myself to respond and not react. It’s an acronym called STOP.
S – Stop
T – Take a breath
O – Observe
P – Proceed
When I feel anger rising up, I try to remember this technique. I stop and take a breath. I observe, sitting with my feelings to see if I can place where I’m noticing the emotion in my body. For me, it’s often in my chest. I try to resist firing back at the person and take the time to respond. I don’t always succeed, but I see major benefits when I’m able to proceed calmly with a level - not a hot - head. When I don’t, I feel regret. Untended anger can become sadness, depression or anxiety. Perhaps I can read my emotional state by glancing down at my cuticles.
What if we got curious about our anger? What if we could forgive ourselves for having these feelings, try to understand them, and use that knowledge to take a different approach the next time a difficult emotion arrives? What if we let anger be in the room, have a voice, and give it time to exit? We can let anger have its tantrum like a petulant child and get on with our day.
The first step is to STOP.