Anger at the Core

Several years ago, I was on a business trip near Los Angeles. It was my first time driving on California's famed highways, and I was enjoying the speed. I had heard that the roads were normally crowded, but on this day I was virtually alone except for two trucks several yards ahead of me. While cruising along and listening to the radio, I looked up to see one of the trucks accidentally cut the other off in an attempt to switch lanes. What followed next was straight out of a bad action movie. In a fit of rage, the man who had been cut off sped up to pull in front of his offender. Once in position, he slammed on his breaks and came to a dead stop. This sent the other man swerving wildly to avoid a 90 mile per hour collision. In the blink of an eye, what began as a simple mistake became a full scale war with potentially fatal consequences. How did it get to this? What goes on in a man's heart that would make him risk his life and the life of another over such a minor infraction? What goes on inside a husband when he punches his wife in a fit of anger, or in a mother who lashes out and slaps her child's face in utter disgust? What is at the root of anger, and is all anger bad?

If we have truly been violated by another person, there is room for righteous anger. When a woman has been sexually abused, she has permission to be angry at her abuser and at the injustice of what happened to her. However, anger loses its righteousness when it becomes destructive to us or to others, and anger becomes destructive when it morphs into intimidation meant to ensure that we never experience vulnerability. Take as an example a man who is fighting with his wife and hurls a dish across the room. Now, imagine if you could freeze time and ask this man why he did that. Chances are good that he would have no answer or would say something vague like, "I just couldn't take it anymore." In the heat of the moment, all this man knew was that he felt rage and justified in it. But a deeper look inside would actually reveal not just uncontrollable rage, but a deep fear ready to erupt with volcanic force.

So, what are we afraid of? Most of us can remember a time, either as a child or an adult, when we were vulnerable with someone who deeply wounded us. It is a frightening experience to be attacked when we, as children, feel so powerless to prevent such an assault on our hearts and bodies. Naturally, we often respond to these types of wounds by making a vow never to be in that position again. It is an understandable vow for a child to make. But such vows turn destructive to ourselves and to others. When a man throws a dish across the room, it is about more than just releasing frustration. It is a warning shot meant to intimidate. It says, "Don't think that I'll let you get close enough to hurt me. If you try to hurt me, I'll make you pay!" This vow reinforces his belief that no one is safe and that he has to protect himself from someone hurting him. The vow then keeps him from experiencing the love that only comes through vulnerability.

Another way anger becomes dangerous is when it is used as a means to make others pay for pain we feel we have experienced. I have had clients who have struggled with fits of rage that often resulted in wild rants and sometimes physical altercations. Anger was not just a struggle for these people; it had become the air they breathed. As we began to dive into each story, it became clear that growing up for these men had been a living hell. The immense pain they felt was intense, constant, and as far back in their childhoods as they could remember. They experienced horrific abuse and had absolutely no power to stop it. They were victims in every sense of the word. But as adults, they realized that they no longer had to remain quiet, or if they chose to be quiet, it could serve them as another form of revenge. So, whenever they would feel wounded or offended, they exacted revenge for both the current offense and those of the past. If they felt belittled, they would squash whoever dared to challenge them. If they felt someone was putting up an obstacle in their paths, they would knock it down (sometimes literally). This rage-filled retaliation ensured that they never felt the powerlessness they experienced earlier in life on a daily basis. It allowed them to feel that they had extracted some measure of justice for themselves. It ensured that they were not alone in their pain, that someone else was feeling it with them.

But how do we begin to face our anger and identify its core? First, it is essential to become a student of your own heart. Look past the surface details of the situations that make you angry and focus on why they make you angry. You can start by asking yourself what else you are feeling when the anger begins to boil. Are you feeling anxious, disrespected, hurt, controlled, or belittled? Once you start understanding what buttons people are pushing (whether intentionally or not), you will have a chance to confront your rage before it spins out of control. Second, it is essential to look at your own story. Ask yourself how your parents handled situations where they felt offended? Did they act out in violence? More importantly, were they violent toward you? In my experience working with people who act out in rage, I have found at least one common denominator among them all: a history of abuse. Across the board they could each tell me stories, most of them hair-raising, about how they had witnessed or felt first hand their parents' rage or the rage of someone else they were supposed to trust. The truth is that we often replay the abuse we experienced as children.

Along with examining your heart and looking at your own story, there are resources that can begin to help you uncover the root of your anger. The Anger Workbook , by Drs. Les Carter and Frank Minirth, and How to Deal with Anger, by Dr. Larry Crabb are both insightful resources that can help you begin the journey of looking below the surface.