How to channel anger for good

Getting mad at my dad during a softball game + some upcoming happenings

Jan 11, 2024

In junior high and high school, I played fastpitch softball. For those not familiar with the sport, it’s a baseball-like game where the pitcher throws the ball only after winding her arm in a full 360-degree motion. My high school’s team won State a few years in a row starting when I was in 7th grade, so the expectations for the players were high and the try-outs were rigorous. I remember eating carrots right before a try-out practice only to have them come up in the gym garbage can a few hours later.

Most of us played all year long, and even did something called Fall Ball. Fall Ball started in early to mid-August and went through late October (or at least that’s what I remember). It was an insane use of time given that temperatures in Minnesota started to drop as early as mid-September and our first snow usually hits around Halloween. Players and parents alike had the pleasure of being outside for an extended amount of time in 40 to 50-degree weather with or without sun. I remember the excruciating feeling of my cold hands after catching a ball in the wrong spot on my glove. Full body waves of pain emanated from my fingertips. I had the overwhelming desire to fold into a tiny ball which of course I did not. There’s no crying in baseball, or fastpitch!

The reason these softball memories came flooding back to me this morning is because I was in the midst of an anxiety storm/pity party. Without going into the details, running your own business, podcast, and art career is overwhelming, often lonely, and filled with uncertainties of all kinds.

I was sitting on the top of a mountain during my hike, feeling sorry for myself. My brain was reluctantly working out a plan how I could give up on my LA dream in a way that wouldn’t make me feel bad about myself, or require me to move back to Minnesota where winter is really starting to kick in.

As I sat and looked out over sunny LA, a memory popped into my head of a softball game where my dad was one of the coaches. I was playing third base. In fastpitch, this position sits about 10 feet in front of the base, unlike baseball where you usually sit either even with the baseline or behind the bases. This also means that you are a mere 15 feet from the batter wielding a light metal bat. The ball traveling from the pitcher at that level of play can go anywhere between 40 and 60 mph and so you do the math.

It’s a terrifying and thrilling position to be in. Often your only move is to react and hope that you don’t get hit in the face. It is understood if that you get hit anywhere else, that’s just part of the defensive strategy and you’re not allowed to complain. People in this position now often wear faceguards, but we were hardcore.

Anyway, for some reason during this one game, my dad was getting on my case. It was a weekend tournament and I was tired. It was probably hot and we had probably been up since dawn playing games and sweating. For this specific play he was motioning to me to move in because there was a chance the next batter was going to bunt. He could tell my motivation was starting to wane and we bickered quietly. It was everything I could do to stop from yelling “Dad, Ugh!” So instead I rolled my eyes, and moved in a couple steps.

Catherine O’Hara is the queen of channeling her anger for comedy gold

Inside I was raging. How dare he tell me what to do, especially in front of everyone? Suddenly my will became as strong as a thousand suns. I was fiercely alert, my blood boiling with indignation.

When the next batter bunted, as he predicted, she popped the ball up about 5 feet from the plate. In my desire to get revenge for him having the audacity to coach me, I flew at the ball (I’ll show you!) sliding on my knee to catch it before it hit the gravel.

No one was more surprised by this move than I was. I was a good player, but not excellent. My desire to harm myself for the sport had its limits and so, had I not been so hell-bent on showing that I was indeed my own person, DAD, I probably would have let the ball drop. Instead, this show of bravado helped us end the inning early and the overall energy of the team lifted.

The reason this came up for me this morning was I remember how clearly I had outperformed my expectations for myself. I did something that was way outside my comfort zone to positive effects. To achieve this I had to access a feeling, anger, that I normally left dormant out of fear of it being too much, too powerful, or too risky.

I find myself with a lot of the same frustrations now, only this time they aren’t at my dad (although I guess everything is about your parents to some degree). I am frustrated at the universe for not mirroring back to me how hard I am working by rewarding me with everything I want right away.

I see that one of the things blocking my path is that I am not fully pushing myself outside my comfort zone. (I mean how much uneasiness does one person need?) I’m uncomfortable, yes, but am I really digging deep? This memory reminded me of that feeling I had that nothing could stop me. That victory was inevitable. And it was.

We really are all capable of things beyond what we expect or know to want, but to do so I think we have to be open to getting our hands dirty both literally and metaphysically.

We are stardust
We are golden
We are billion-year-old carbon

- Joni Mitchell, songwriting credit

This weekend, talking to a wise friend and former podcast guest Joanne Menon, it came up that anger is just good information, not something to fear. It can and should be harnessed and listened to. It’s when I repress or judge my angry feelings that they come out sideways or block important information that would save me trouble down the line.

So how I can channel this feeling of rage and impatience in a way that is truly productive and creative? And then balance that with patience and acceptance that it’s all going to work out, or not? As I write this I can feel the universe laughing at the impossibility of being a perfect human.

What’s your relationship to anger? Have you found a healthy way to channel it? Joanne started boxing - something I’m open to trying. I am currently using running as my fuel, working my way up to running a 5k and then hopefully up to a half marathon.

Art Date

Discussion about this post