All my life I have raged. My tiny lungs, as soon as I emerged from the womb, throbbed with fury. My mom used to say it made her nervous how much I screamed, like there might be something wrong.
This is probably a normal thing for parents to worry about, but this story foreshadowed struggles with healthy anger later in life. Even the phrase “healthy anger” feels like gaslighting, or at the very least a misinformed perspective on the origins and functions of rage. Rage like all emotions offers information.
My self-described angry friend and eloquent writer, Bean Gilsdorf, wrote a book review of Burn It Down:Women Writing About Anger, in which she writes about the ways that the essayists have navigated the complexity of female rage. “Letting off a little steam is healthy, unless, of course, it gets coded as natural for some people and abnormal for others.” From an early age, my rage became first a source of power and protection when things got tough. Then it just as quickly became a source of shame and isolation as I realized that I had no model of how to express it and still be accepted or heard by my family and friends.
Because of this, I started stuffing it and as a result stopped hearing what the anger had to tell me. Gilsdorf writes, “Anger becomes a beacon, a flare sent up to tell you when you need to be paying attention to your body, your psychic boundaries, and your very being.” I did not move through the rage, the grief, or the fear of what next. Instead I got stuck.
In high school, I was a high-functioning people pleaser with complex trauma and so instead of deflating or openly self-destructing, I became adept at burning it off, or trying to stay ahead of it so it wouldn’t rear its ugly head. I drank gallons of sugary coffee, and worked out a lot. By the end of high school, I would escape school for half of the day by parking in the teacher’s lot or hiding out in the art department.
I didn’t know what it meant. I had a hole in my heart that made me feel hollow despite my friends and the good fortune I had in other areas of my life. It would take me years to solve that riddle for myself.
This herculean effort meant that I was cut off from all my emotions, not just my fury. I made no effort to explore my sexuality. I had many obsessive crushes from a distance. I think at my core I didn’t want to know who I was or to really share that self with anyone else. I didn’t want to be vulnerable enough to fall in love so I put up a major façade that kept everyone, including myself, out.
The more I tried to fit in and gloss over the ugly feelings that surfaced, the more angry and depressed I became. Boiling in my gut were all the choices I wasn’t making and all the things I wasn’t saying, like what if I had a crush on a girl? I want to go to college for art. I’m quitting softball - and then really do it. As an aside - you’d think as a confused queer I would have loved softball, but it was complicated. High school team sports are very political.
My senior year I remember watching Oprah with my friends after school one day. I was shocked when the housewife who was the guest on the show said the exact thing I had said to them earlier in afternoon, “I feel like something is missing.” We took note of the mirroring, but I didn’t know what it meant. I had a hole in my heart that made me feel hollow despite my friends and the good fortune I had in other areas of my life. It would take me years to solve that riddle for myself.
Years and many solved-riddles later, my rage is still ever-present. Lately I have felt like David Byrne’s Psycho Killer. I’m tense and nervous and I can’t relax. I hate people (especially LA drivers), when they’re not polite. I wake up at 4am and can’t get back to sleep. The reasons I could be a little on edge are many. I am epically low on funds. I’m queer dating for the first time ever, and dating again for the first time since the early pandemic. I’m awaiting the opening of a big solo show. I just started a couple of new day job gigs. The rent is too damn high. It’s A LOT of f*cking change!!
My coping mechanisms have only slightly improved since my childhood. It’s still not really ok to be an angry female. I often still hold things in and pray for the best. I try to meditate and go on runs, but often these are meant to passify and tame rather than exorcise or harness any feelings I don’t want.
A couple nights ago, to try and release some of the weight I am carrying around, I decided to schedule a last-minute session with a friend and life coach Joanne. During our session she walked me through guided meditation in which she asked me to call up anything that felt like it was blocking me or activating me emotionally. I obediently wrote everything down on the paper.
I can barely watch horror films, but when given the permission to get angry, I was surprised to see that my thirst for interdimensional bloodshed was almost limitless.
Next, she invited me to imagine myself kicking the ever-loving sh*t out of each and every person, place or thing that came up. Within seconds of closing my eyes, I saw myself punch someone square on the nose like a sailor in a brawl. It felt amazing.
After my initial right hook, my inner vision transformed me into a fire-breathing creature that could char a human being from a mile away. I floated and flew and blasted light and smashed and screamed like a banshee- all in ways that I would never, and could never in real life. I can barely watch horror films, but when given the permission to get angry, I was surprised to see that my thirst for interdimensional bloodshed was almost limitless.
During this cinematically violent meditation, I understood for the first time why people liked action movies and comic book heroes. The action figure avatar, much like a mythological archetype (often one and the same), invites you to embody the strength and power that you may not feel entitled to as a mere mortal.
We eventually took a break so I could then go shake it out in real life to let go of some of the steam that had built up in my body. When I came back I was sweating and emotionally a little bit lighter.
Today I felt energized and stirred up. That type of power, while exhausting, is invigorating and a bit addictive, especially if you are prone to tamping down your ugly feelings. I am scared to enjoy my rage too much because I worry that it will never run out. Will my rage sessions only create more rage babies? Will I ever get sick of being angry? Can I rent out a room and smash everything in it?
What’s next? What comes after the release of all this anger and resistance? Will I know how to move forward?
Yes - will let you know if I try it out- It is so hilarious that someone figured out how to monetize rage and use all the vintage TVs etc. it sounds like an amazing release !
https://rageground.com/ I never heard of these smash rooms before - a friend told me about this today, a couple hours after I read this post!!!
I used to be uncomfortable with rage but I do find it’s a very important barometer.... as long as it’s not making the decisions !