I got into a bit of a screaming match with my husband last weekend. Ultimatums do not sit well with me, and I fired back. Anger isn’t something that flares from me very often so maybe I was overdue.
And when it hit, it hit fast and furious. I spewed sharp retorts, thought You are so wrong, and then retreated to my office in silence for a few days. Not exactly my proudest moment. But let’s be real – spouses argue. No breaking news there.
The gory details aren’t the point. What matters is that this kind of argument is rare for us. We’ve settled into a comfortable rhythm, knowing each other’s habits and patterns. Flare-ups are unusual. And this wasn’t so much about right or wrong as it was about a fundamental difference in perspective.
Is It Just Me, or Is the World Very Angry Right Now?
A couple of weeks ago, I picked up Anger: Wisdom for Cooling the Flames by Thich Nhat Hanh. In it, he writes about how, to be free of anger, we have to practice. One of the most important exercises? Compassionate listening. That means truly hearing someone, seeking to understand what’s happening beneath their words. It means paying attention not just to what they say, but to their tone, facial expressions, body language, and even the meaning behind their pauses.
I reached for the book because I realized how irritated I’ve become whenever a political discussion creeps into my orbit. I’ve grown to hate politics. Truthfully, I’ve become cynical about whether it even matters who’s in power. Politicians seem to serve everyone but the people they swore to represent. I’m exhausted by the half-truths, the smug deflections, the schoolyard sarcasm meant to make their side look just slightly better than the other. It’s like watching kids in a sandbox except these adults exhibit less maturity.
Meanwhile, my husband, retired and with time to spare, keeps up with various news sources, often playing them on speaker mode. Just hearing snippets as I walked by was enough to make my body tense. And if a certain American politician’s name came up? Forget it. I could feel the anger rise, a visceral reaction I didn’t know how to shake.
So, I decided to get curious about it. Why was I letting this in? I reminded myself: I can’t control what happens “out there.” I can only control how I respond. I thought I was getting more Zen about it, that I was learning to let go.
Turns out, I had more work to do.
Tuning Out the Noise
I also drastically cut back on social media – especially Facebook. I even deleted the app from my phone. All I could see were people posting opinions, backed by questionable “proof” as to why their opinion was the right one. And it wasn’t just one side but rather all of them. Apparently, critical thinking is only required when dissecting an opposing point of view.
At the end of the day, I have no way of knowing which of these so-called facts are valid, completely bogus, or, most likely, partial truths. And I refuse to go down the rabbit hole of “research” to figure it out.
Social media has always had the potential to be a toxic, finger-pointing arena, but it’s gotten so much worse. We live in an us versus them world. Maybe COVID-19’s nastiest “gift” was the flood of misinformation from all sides, making a thinking person’s head spin and burying any hope of clarity. It’s a breeding ground for reactionary scanning where we only seek out evidence to confirm the beliefs we already hold. There’s a term for that: confirmation bias. And it’s everywhere.
This week’s argument with my husband had nothing to do with politics, but I can’t help but wonder if the constant undercurrent of anger we see in the world laid the foundation for both of us. Once anger starts brewing, fear isn’t far behind. Runaway thoughts take over. Worst-case scenarios start to feel possible. And suddenly, that ever-present simmer of frustration sitting on the back burner flares into something bigger.
A complete lack of control over the havoc other people can cause in our lives is both shocking and maddening.
Reflecting on My Anger
After a few days, tired of being mad, I decided to take a pragmatic approach. Where was this deep anger coming from? I needed time to process it internally. Needing my mind and body to be in sync, I wanted words for what I was feeling.
I turned to my values. There are five that often guide my responses: honesty, humour, curiosity, forgiveness, and fairness.
Honesty? That one was in full force as I made my thoughts very clear. (They didn’t exactly land well.) The thing is, I don’t always say what I think. And when I hold back, I often feel uncomfortable, knowing I wasn’t as open or transparent as I wanted to be. The other person however, never gets to react authentically if I am not showing up in the conversation.
Humour? Completely absent. No surprise there.
Curiosity? I shut it down and didn’t pause to consider the other point of view. I went straight to I’m right, you’re wrong. But if the world has taught us anything, it’s that this strategy rarely works. Strong-arming someone into setting aside what’s important to them, just to pacify another, never leads to a lasting solution.
So, three of my core values (honesty, humour, and curiosity) had a hand in getting me into this situation. As for my husband? That’s his reflection to make. I can only examine my role.
Finding My Way Through
What’s bringing me out the other side of this disagreement is fairness and forgiveness.
Digging in my heels to prove a point, whatever that point may be, is rarely a good strategy for strengthening relationships. It’s time to forgive myself and my husband, even as we continue to disagree. After all, there’s no universal law stating that husbands and wives must agree on everything.
In this case, fairness may not mean compromise. As I weigh my choices, I see that one of us will likely get the outcome we want (okay, requested—though that might be a generous word), while the other will not. And yet, surprisingly, it still seems like the best solution for everyone involved.
Turning Anger into Opportunity
I try to look at problems and ruffled feathers as opportunities for growth. And, of course, it’s much easier to consider when it’s not my problem.
It’s been an exhausting week, but also an opportunity to address an issue that’s been simmering for some time. It’s one that I chose to ignore until now.
Thich Nhat Hanh writes, “To understand ourselves, we must learn and practice the way of non-duality. We should not fight our anger, because our anger is our self, a part of our self. Anger is of an organic nature, like love. We have to take good care of anger. And because it is an organic entity, an organic phenomenon, it is possible to transfer it into another organic entity. The garbage can be transformed back into compost, into lettuce, and into cucumber. So don’t despise your anger. Don’t fight your anger, and don’t suppress your anger. Learn the tender way of taking care of your anger, and transform it into the energy of understanding and compassion.”
As I reflect on this, I realize that my anger doesn’t define me. It’s simply a part of me. And when I take the time to care for it, to understand it, I can transform it into something much more powerful.
So, what about you? When anger or frustration comes knocking, how do you handle it? Do you fight it, suppress it, or do you take the time to transform it into something meaningful?