The Other Side of Nice

For a long time, anger terrified me. Not just other people’s anger; mine too. It confused me, and I didn’t know what to do with it.

I grew up watching anger explode at the most unpredictable times. It wasn’t a feeling; it was a force. Loud voices, slammed doors, silence that lasted days. It taught me that anger meant danger, disconnection, or shame. So, I did what a lot of us do; I swallowed it.

I became the peacemaker and the fixer. The person who made herself small to keep the peace.

I’m not typically the reactive type, rarely have I ever yelled or even fought back when I was angry; but guaranteed what I would always do was cry. Why? Because I buried it and called it something else; tired, stressed, misunderstood. Buried anger doesn’t disappear; I’ve learned that it shows up in other ways like anxiety, resentment, snapping at people you love, or slowly disconnecting from your own needs.

Therapy has helped me to understand that anger is absolutely okay. Anger itself isn’t the problem, it’s how we handle it that matters.

Every time I meet with my therapist, I keep my pen and paper close, scribbling down her words like they’re sacred. I repeatedly say; “hold on, I don’t want to miss a thing.” Later, I often find myself combing through those notes, struck by just how deeply she understands my world; sometimes better than I do. Over time, she has come to feel less like a therapist and more like a trusted friend, offering steady, honest, and compassionate guidance.

One of the most transformative things she’s taught me is this: anger is information. It’s not something to fear or suppress; it’s a signal. It says, something’s not okay here, a line has been crossed. It’s a line of communication saying you’re hurt, and that hurt matters.

It’s a normal, healthy human emotion, just like sadness, fear, or joy. If you’re not into therapy, go watch the movie Inside Out – because sometimes healing starts with a Pixar film and a box of tissues. Seriously though, it truly explains all our emotions in the cutest way.  You’ll walk away understanding why sadness matters, why joy can’t do it all, and yes—even why anger has a seat at the table. It’s adorable, it’s deep, and it might just explain your entire emotional life better than any self-help book.

Back to reality though, anger can sometimes feel destructive or make us feel unsafe. Have you ever taken on someone else’s anger like it’s your responsibility? For the longest time, if a voice raised, my shoulders tensed. If someone sighed too loud or went silent too long, I instantly scanned for what I had done wrong.  Not all anger aimed at you belongs to you; sometimes it’s about that person’s unmet needs, their pain or their story.  Even if you handle it well, it can be jarring and ignite something in you as well. 

I’m here to remind you that you need to give yourself time to recover, you don’t owe anyone your nervous system. 

I had to learn not to push my anger away. For so long, I either let it control me or tried to silence it completely slowly leading to resentment. I’ve read articles where the advice has been to sit with it, to listen to what it was trying to say—but every time I tried, all I could hear was: I was treated unjustly.

What I didn’t realize then is that anger isn’t just noise, it’s actually a signal. When I finally started listening and sitting with it, it often pointed me toward something that mattered. A boundary that had been crossed, a part of me that was tired of being dismissed or a need that had gone unmet for too long.

Learning to listen to my anger didn’t make it go away but it has helped me to understand it and it has changed everything. I no longer push my anger away and when I truly get to the bottom of it, I realize it’s a part of me that’s asking to be heard. I no longer suppress it and I no longer see it as the enemy.  I also extend that compassion to others; anger doesn’t always deserve shame, it’s often a sign that someone is hurting, overwhelmed or trying to protect something that matters to them. We all carry histories and heartbreaks that can make anger bubble to the surface.

I’ve learned to pause before reacting, respond not to hurt; to be honest, clear, and to protect my peace. Lastly, I have learned to forgive myself for the times I didn’t handle my anger well.  I’m still learning.

Anger does not make us bad people; it makes us human.

Maybe healing doesn’t mean never feeling angry again but a reminder that anger is not the enemy, it’s just a messenger waiting to be heard.