Cathy Glass - Happy Adults

Whether we have a very big anger – for example, as a result of being abused – or a relatively small anger – for example, a hurtful remark – at some point we have to let go. I am not being dismissive of the shocking suffering some people go through, but after an appropriate time (possibly with the help of therapy) we have to make a decision to let go of the anger, for if we don’t we will stay trapped in misery, bitterness and self-loathing, and that will affect those around us. Ms A unfortunately had not been able to let go of her anger and was addicted to antidepressants, having had two failed marriages, and a daughter with whom she battled continuously. Anger and depression go hand in hand and are a result of our feelings of helplessness and despair. We have to let go of anger to allow ourselves to heal and depression to lift.

We therefore owe it to ourselves to let go of our anger, and to those around us too. Let me show you how.

The turning point

I was furious when my husband, John, left me for a much younger woman. I was seething, not only for myself but on behalf of my children. How could he! How dare he! What a shit! How was I going to manage alone and provide for my family? My anger was with me for most of my waking days and at night, when, unable to sleep, I lay awake, tormented by thoughts of John and what he was doing in his new life.

I took my revenge. I unpicked the seams of his trousers, which still hung in the wardrobe and which he intended collecting when he had the time. I gave his collection of CDs to the charity shop and followed this with many other trips whenever I discovered an item of his he hadn’t packed in his hasty departure. When his sister (with whom I’d always got on well) phoned to say she was sorry to hear John and I were having difficulties in our marriage and she hoped we could sort things out, I vented my anger on her. John had omitted to tell her the reason we were ‘having difficulties’ – that he had run off with a younger woman – but I had no difficulty in telling his sister, in vengeful graphic detail. I also said that I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised John had deserted me, as clearly lack of commitment ran in his family. This was really nasty, as his sister had recently separated from her husband, but I was so angry I wanted to hurt everyone connected with him.

I said and did things which I would never normally have done and which now make me cringe with embarrassment. However, I stopped short of using the children against John. He saw them regularly and I didn’t criticize him to the children, although I dearly wanted to.

I knew I had the right to be angry. I’d trusted John, believed what he’d told me and assumed we would stay married and raise our children together, as my parents had done. I was the innocent victim and my anger was appropriate, acceptable and a healthy outlet for my emotion at that time. But two years later when I was still too angry to give John the divorce he desperately wanted – by then his partner was pregnant and he wanted to marry her – my anger was no longer healthy or helpful. Indeed it was working against me. I had lost weight, taken up smoking again and stopped going out socially unless it was for the children. If anyone asked how I was (expecting to hear my divorce had been finalized and that I was ready to move on with my life) I lapsed again into the all-too-familiar lament of John’s dreadful behaviour. I had become a martyr to his actions, a slave to his wrongdoing: my anger was now well past its ‘use by’ date and had turned sour.

Then one morning, two years after John had left me, I was brushing my hair in the mirror and caught sight of the woman I had become – still full of pain, suffering and anger. At that moment I knew I had to do something and quickly. I found myself giving that woman in the mirror a good talking to. My opening words changed my life and set me on the path to recovery. I said simply but firmly: You have to admit your marriage is over. John has left you and is not coming back. Though that was already apparent to many, part of me still thought he would return. I continued by telling myself: Your future will be different – not the one you planned – but it can be a very good future. You have the most precious gift in the world: your children. Stop wallowing in self-pity and let go of your anger. Concentrate on all the positives in your life and move on. You owe it to you and you owe it to your children. It’s time to stop being angry.

I agree my words were not the most insightful, and the message they contained was probably obvious; however, it hadn’t been obvious to me. I couldn’t let go of my anger because I was still hankering after a life that could no longer be, and that anger was tainting all that was positive in my life. The ‘good talking to’ I gave myself was the turning point.

Likewise it had been for thousands of the readers who had emailed me with their experiences. The phrases So I gave myself a good talking to … or I told myself that … or I said out loud I had to … came up time and time again. And, my readers told me, they had turned from anger, bitterness and depression to happiness and contentment. So the first step to letting go of your anger is to give yourself a ‘good talking to’. In addressing yourself you are addressing your anger – the anger that has been making you unhappy for a long time.

When exactly the turning point arrives varies. It may come at the end of days, weeks or years of being angry. Clearly big hurts need longer to heal than smaller hurts, and while you are healing anger is acceptable and healthy. But you will know when your anger is past its ‘use by’ date. You will know when it is time to let go and move on, and when it is time look at yourself in the mirror and address yourself honestly.

Remember it doesn’t have to be a big hurt that is making you angry and unhappy. Even if you are angry about a small hurt, at some point you have to let go. In a lifetime we have to let go of anger many, many times, for life is full of situations which cause us pain and suffering, and if left unaddressed the anger and resentment fester, making us unhappy and depressed.

Here are a few more examples of the turning point:

I can still remember being unjustly accused by my departmental manager of being late on my third day at work (my first job) at the age of eighteen. I was in fact at work but attending a training session in another room, which my manager hadn’t been informed of. The manager shouted at me in front of the whole office before I had a chance to explain. I can still remember my feelings of humiliation and anger and wishing the ground would open up and swallow me. Looking back, I can see that the man may have been a bully, but it is true to say that the scene ruined my first months at work. I inwardly seethed, from both the injustice and the humiliation. My spirits sank to the point where I considered handing in my notice. Monday mornings were a nightmare.

Then I made a conscious decision to address myself: It was a silly thing for him to say but I am not responsible for his actions. We’ve got on well until now. I will not hold it against him any more. I let go of my anger and focused on all the good things about the job, of which there were many. It was a conscious decision, as letting go of anger often has to be, and once I’d let go of my anger my spirits lifted, I began to enjoy the work and the incident took its rightful place in history.

A nineteen-year-old rape victim whose attacker had not been prosecuted because of a technicality in the law was consumed by anger at the injustice (understandably). But it was dominating her life and she was blaming herself. She wrote that she had found her turning point by addressing herself as follows: I am so angry he wasn’t prosecuted. He should have been. I did all I could, but it wasn’t my decision. It was the police who decided not to prosecute. I had no control over that decision but I do have control over the rest of my life. I’m not going to let him ruin it.