Skillfully Working With Anger
When I was a kid I was allowed to get mad, well, at least sometimes. My mom would let me hit or scream into a pillow in my room. I spent countless hours outside with a broom handle beating the shit out of a tree. (Yes, it’s still alive.) I played sports, and I channeled that anger to push myself beyond my edge and do everything I could to win. It felt good to yell and to hit things. And permission from my mom to “let it out” felt like a gift in my childhood.
Somewhere along the way, though, I stopped letting it out and started holding that anger in. …
