My father was the only person allowed to express anger in my childhood home. He wielded his rage like a sword, ready to slice apart anyone who showed the slightest hint of the forbidden emotion.
One day as an adult, I had a disagreement with him. I felt my anger boiling, about to explode. I feared him becoming violent, so I stuffed my emotions and immediately left.
I had a pattern of dismissing my anger. When asked if I was mad, I denied it, claiming to be fine. I believed anger was a bad emotion, and I refused to acknowledge feeling it.
Although I ignored it, my anger did not go away. It seeped out in the spiteful comments I made, the drivers I flipped off, the doors I slammed. Eventually I had to acknowledge that I had a problem and needed to find a healthy way to deal with my explosive temper.
The spring season had been rainy, and my flower beds were overgrown with weeds. Pigweed, Johnson grass, henbit, dandelion—all flourished in the beds, suppressing the seedlings, obstructing the flowers. I decided to release my rage on those weeds.
I Went Through an Angry Phase
I imagined each weed was a replica of my father. I clutched him by the stalk and jerked him out of the ground, dirt flying everywhere. I grabbed my hoe and ripped apart the roots, taking my frustrations out on the forgiving soil.
Over the next few months, I went through an angry phase. I was in my garden every chance I got, yanking out weeds by the handful, pounding the soil with my hoe, expressing outrage over everything. Over time, my repressed anger lessened. I felt lighter. I felt relieved.
I learned that anger was simply an emotion. It was my reaction to a violation of my person, territories, attitudes or beliefs. It was my way of protecting myself. I had a right to be angry—but I didn’t have a right to stay that way.
Whenever I felt the weeds of rage suppressing my serenity, obstructing my perception, I recognized it. I acknowledged it as real. Then I identified the source. Who or what was making me feel this way? Where was it coming from? Often I had to dig deep into my soul to find the true source of my wrath and indignation.
I began to recognize people and situations that set me off. I looked for my part in it. How had I contributed to the problem? What could I have done differently?
Not Every Incident Was Worthy of My Anger
I learned constructive ways to deal with anger in the moment, like taking deep breaths, changing my attitude, rethinking my perception of a situation, or simply walking away. Not every incident was worthy of my anger.
Before long, I was expressing my anger in healthy and assertive ways. I no longer stuffed my emotions and could remain calm even when confronted with hostile behavior.
I didn’t see my father again until he was on his deathbed, ten years later. Even though my father was the same angry man, I had changed. I no longer reacted to his demeaning comments. This enabled me to be with him during his last days and to see the importance of feeling my feelings and not living my life stuck in the weeds of rage.
6 responses to “Weeds of Rage”
Most of us have suppressed a lot of anger during our childhood and adolescence, locking it in for it to stay inside us. We have carried it around without being aware of its poisonous existence within us… until one day in our adulthood we experience something that infuriates us and we are reminded of all those other occasions this emotion visited us and how we hid it inside of us and eventually forgot it was there. That’s when all of that anger has to come out.
Physical work can do wonders: I remember getting a lot of my anger out of me with my shovel as I dug the ground to prepare the space to build the footing for the new cabin, where I now reside. Digging the hard ground, an extremely slow and tedious process, was quite therapeutic for me. I’m glad you got rid of your weeds in the most beneficial way possible.
Thank you for another great article!
Yes, digging is a great way to deal with anger. So glad you were able to get it out of you. Thank you for your comments, Sallie
Sallie,
Your words are like a kind of therapy for me and I appreciate your honesty—I have more than a few weeds to remove—so many, in fact, that
it’s difficult to know where to start! Nonetheless, I will don my boots and begin, before it gets too cold to put off for another season.
Thank you for this,
Holly D.
Thank you, Holly, for your humorous take. Enjoy pulling your weeds, Sallie
This is a beautiful article !
Thank you, Ivy!