Skip to main content

Resolving Anger

My therapist asked me recently if I thought that I had any unresolved anger.  Apparently, he suspected that I might.  I do have anger, but it's not unresolved.

I used to be very angry.  I was angry because I didn't understand the world as others presented it.  Others' descriptions of the world didn't comport with my experiences of it.  I saw a world full of unnecessary limits and rules.  Others insisted those rules and limits were eminently necessary even though they couldn't explain why and, in many cases, hadn't even considered why.  This was disorienting and it made me suspect that people were lying to me.

But they weren't, for the most part.  Once I stopped imagining malice, it became easier to let go of anger.  I learned that being angry without being considerate was conducive to objectification, and I was objectifying the people I felt anger toward.

Some of the people who should have protected me acted to hurt me instead.  I had a lot of complex anger about that for a long time.  I didn't want to let go of that anger because that seemed like forgiving people who didn't deserve forgiveness.  After many years, and with much difficulty, I learned that I didn't need to forgive someone, or even to stop being angry at them, to move on.  Anger is a motivation.  If there's no productive way to act on it, then I don't.  I let the anger be what it is and then I look to better things - motivations that will promise real benefit.  Holding grudges is a symbolic act, and I reject symbolism.  There's no practical reason to decide that I will seethe with impotent anger forever.  Forgiveness is symbolic, too.  I haven't forgiven the people who did terrible things.  I've just decided that it doesn't matter whether I forgive them or not.  I have other things to do.

People misunderstand things.  There are certainly malicious people, but even they have motivations.  No one is an unmotivated evil force.  Everyone is a person.  So I decided to put anger down.  It wasn't useful, and that was frustrating.  Some of it is still there in some capacity, I just don't use it to inform my assessments of people or situations.

If I can try to understand, that's better.  If I can't, then I walk away.  Anger takes time and energy that I want for other things.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Man Is Not Great: The Evolution of Anthropocentrism

Why do humans care whether their species is special? Why are they so invested in their specialness that they're uncomfortable with the idea that they aren't? Why is it a bitter pill to swallow that humans aren't uniquely important in the universe, that they aren't the intended end of evolution, and that their wondrous and diverse subjective experiences emerge from the same physical processes observable in "lower" animals? I think that the maladaptive human tendency to insist upon their specialness in the universe is an extension of an adaptive tendency to self-advocate in their tribes. Consider fear. The predisposition to turn around when you feel like something might be behind you is likely to save you when there really is something there. Most of the time, when you can't help but turn around on the dark basement steps, there's no threat. From an evolutionary perspective, it’s better to turn unnecessarily than to do nothing in a moment of danger. That...

The Mystery of Friendship

Friendship looks good on paper.  People appear to enjoy their friendships and to want, or at least to expect, to have friends.  I don't have this experience.  I don't want friends. It took me a long time to understand that I have no desire for friendship.  As a child I thought I had to seek friendships because everyone around me wanted them.  It was part of trying to pass; I know that now but I didn't then.  I wasn't aware that other people didn't have to try to be like each other.  How could I have been?  I had no basis for comparison besides myself so I assumed everyone was like me.  I thought I was neurotypical and this was conducive to my feelings of inferiority.  I didn't know why I was so bad at being like everyone else.  It was because they were being themselves and I wasn't.  But I wouldn't realize that until long after my formative years were over. I was a very confused child.  I had few friendships and I wasn...

George Versus Lennie

People seem to believe that you can't have cognitive deficits if you don't seem stupid. The image many carry in their minds of a person with cognitive problems is an image of someone whose internal dysfunction necessarily finds clear outward manifestation in unusual physical proportions, motor skills, vocal quality, and speech patterns. Less objectively, it's an image of a cartoon idiot: Lennie from Of Mice and Men as depicted in Looney Tun es .  This is a suboptimal situation.  My autism involves some cognitive impairment. Because I'm intelligent and articulate, even paraprofessionals have trouble remembering or, in fact, believing that I'm not as able to apply my intellect as ordinary people are. I'm smart, I'm not Lennie, but I'm not George either. The dichotomy between those characters is the only way many people can understand the difference between neurotypical people and people with cognitive or neurodevelopmental disabilities. If I'm n...