We don’t like anger.

We fear it.

We fight against it.

We don’t like what anger makes out of us.

Most of us learned early in life that anger is not wanted.

It’s not agreeable. It’s not acceptable.

So, we learned to hide it - to silence it, to swallow it down, to turn it against ourselves.

We feel ashamed when it erupts, and guilty when we cannot control it.

We judge ourselves for being “too much,” “too emotional,” “too reactive.”

And because of that, we live under pressure - holding back the very emotion that might hold the key to our truth.

But what’s underneath the anger?

What is it trying to protect, to express, to defend?

Anger is not the enemy.

It is a messenger.

A signal that something inside of us has been ignored, crossed, or wounded.

In itself, anger is not good or bad - it’s simply energy asking to be understood.

Often, anger hides what feels too painful to face directly.

It can be grief that was never processed or accepted.

It can be fear wearing armor.

It can be the voice of a younger self who once felt powerless - now terrified to lose control or be hurt again.

Anger can mask shame, guilt, or deep loneliness.

It can be a cry for help that sounds like defiance.

It can be the way a sensitive soul protects itself from being seen too closely, from being hurt again.

Sometimes, anger is the only part of us that ever dared to say no.

The part that refused to be silenced when boundaries were crossed.

The part that fought to survive in environments where softness was unsafe.

Anger, when met with awareness instead of judgment, becomes one of the most powerful gateways to healing.

It shows us where we still feel unseen, unheard, or unprotected.

It invites us to honor our limits, to grieve what we lost, to reclaim our voice.

So instead of asking, “How do I get rid of my anger?”

Ask, “What is my anger trying to tell me?”

What pain does it protect?

What boundary does it reveal?

What truth does it hold?

When we listen to anger with compassion, it no longer needs to scream.

It softens.

And underneath it, we often find sadness, longing, tenderness - the very heart we’ve been protecting all along.

May you learn to listen to your anger with gentleness,

not as a threat, but as a truth that longs to be seen.

May you soften your judgment and meet what rises with compassion.

May you discover the grief, fear, and tenderness beneath its fire.

May you let anger guide you back to your voice, your boundaries, your power.

And may you remember -

you are not your anger.

You are the one learning to hold it with love.

With care and presence,

Aniela🤍

Photo: Pinterest