Anger - The Truth Beneath

The other day one of my "challenging clients" and I were debating the appropriateness of anger. While maintaining my perspective, I was also enjoying listening to his commitment to anger. My client felt that his outrage at the often-shabby treatment of lower-income people moved him into action and, therefore, anger served a valiant purpose in his life. "Good argument," I conceded, "but not good enough." After twenty minutes of getting nowhere, we agreed to both be right and return to the coaching.

In the moment I knew that the coaching had gone south, I had become hooked on "being right" with a capital "H." I allowed my agenda to override my commitment to the coaching relationship. What I realized in that moment was how the power of anger - no matter how lofty the intent - seduces us into accepting fear's lowest common denominator. I had attached to being right, like being angry, is a short-term solution and a way of camouflaging our agendas. When we are so committed to being right, we are often blanketing our anger.

I do have to concede however, that anger can serve a purpose; first it tells us something needs a deeper focus. Secondly, for those who are learning to own their power anger is often an important flag in recognizing it's time to honor boundaries, their voice, and their freedom to be self expressed. When we allow anger to be more of a resource center, that calls to look within informing us of a deeper truth, rather than a command center that compels to react we can be served well by our anger. Although I have come to believe that anger never is the right answer, I found myself cutting off my client instead of inviting him in. What did being right and being angry have in common? When we dare to lift the carpet of anger, we never find our joys waiting for us with outstretched arms; instead, we find our fears cowering from the light of introspection. Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the rightist of all?

Often, fear is desire turned on its head. When we fear that the desired object will be denied us, we manipulate our fear into anger for the socially acceptable reason that showing anger is preferable to showing fear. The agreed upon, planetary perception is that when we admit to being afraid, we wimp out -we make ourselves vulnerable. So we use anger to maneuver others into getting what we want.

We use anger as our ace in the hole because it creates distance so that others cannot see, smell or touch our fear. Anger is the response of the powerless. Children become angry because they are dependent on adults for their survival - they are literally fighting for their lives. Even adults, who have choices, sometimes remain fixated on the anger response because they have not owned their independence and right to choose. The following scenarios demonstrate this:

The "withholding" scenario. Your mate won't pick up after him/herself. You withhold sex, affection, and open communication to get what you want. Or you yell or discuss the situation ad nauseam and wear him/her down until you win.

The "make wrong" scenario. Your boss makes you angry. How much energy do you spend making him/her wrong with others? Notice how the more wrong you make your boss, the more justified and right you feel.

The "I'll reject you before you reject me" scenario. A friend doesn't give what you consider enough time to your relationship. You retaliate by creating reasons to distance yourself from it. How many relationships have you abandoned so you didn't have to feel rejected? No matter, you win and that is what matters!

Many angry people don't have anger management problems; they have intimacy issues. Intimacy entails openness with self and others. Intimacy allows us to expose our fears and receive healing. Anger signals our unwillingness to be intimate with ourselves. Anger alienates. It puts us in defense mode and redirects our resources away from what would bring us joy and love.

I don't recall being an angry child or young woman. Yet, when I searched my memory, scalding events began to attach themselves to each other until I awoke one morning, in my thirtieth year, buried in an avalanche of pent up anger. All the equality I had been promised, the dreams I had been assured of, and the love I was owed in exchange for my hard work had eluded my grasp. And was I pissed off about it! From that moment on, real joy became a thing of the past; my anger became my shadow. It assured