What My Anger Was Really Hiding

What is the truth about anger exactly?

Imagine an angry little child.

A dog growling.

A cat hissing in the corner.

What do they all have in common?

At first glance, the answer seems obvious: They appear angry.

But look a little closer.

My Dad used to say my Mom was experiencing “temporary insanity” whenever she got angry.

It’s a harsh way of putting it (maybe slightly lacking compassion), but maybe he was pointing toward something deeper: When someone is angry, are they truly expressing themselves…or are they temporarily disconnected from themselves?

I recently read The Courage to Be Disliked by Ichiro Kishimi, and there was a story in it that stopped me in my tracks.

A mother and daughter were screaming at each other. Then suddenly, the phone rang.

The mother picked it up, her voice still thick with rage.

But the moment she realized it was her daughter’s teacher calling, everything changed.

Her voice softened. She became polite. Warm, even.

For the next several minutes, she spoke in her “best telephone voice.”

Then she hung up.

And within seconds, she turned back toward her daughter and resumed yelling exactly where she left off.

That story unsettled me.

Because it suggests something uncomfortable: Anger is not always uncontrollable.

Sometimes anger is a performance. A strategy. A form of intimidation. A way of forcing another person to feel the heat that is burning inside of us.

And honestly?

As someone who has struggled with anger for most of my life, that realization humbled me.

Because I know what it feels like to become possessed by emotion (and sometimes it feels like a demon). To feel justified. To feel consumed by the intensity of it.

But I also know there is a dramatic part of me that wants to erupt. A wounded part that wants someone else to feel my pain.

And maybe that is where compassion needs to enter the conversation.

Because underneath anger, there is often fear.

Think of the child again. The growling dog. The hissing cat.

They are not just angry.

They are scared.

Deep down, anger is often the fear of losing something important: love, control, dignity, safety, connection, belonging.

Sometimes even the fear of losing ourselves.

Anger becomes armor for the parts of us that feel small, rejected, embarrassed, helpless, or abandoned.

It is the soul putting on a mask and screaming instead of crying.

A few years ago, I made a quiet promise to myself: Whenever possible, I would try to turn my anger into tears.

Because tears usually hurt people less than rage does.

And over time, something inside me softened.

Not perfectly. Not all at once.

I still feel anger rise inside of me sometimes like fire climbing up my chest.

I still feel the urge to lash out. To prove my point. To make someone understand my hurt.

But now, there is another voice inside me too.

It's the wise voice of God. He is this voice that sits somewhere deep in my mind. And right before I react, he whispers things like: "Claire, will this matter tomorrow?" "Will this create more pain?" "If you can choose love, and forgiveness. Choose those things." Sometimes that voice saves me from becoming someone I don't want to be.

Another thing that helps is changing my perspective.

When I feel myself spiralling downward into anger or sadness, I picture myself high above the world in an airplane, looking down at everything below me. I try to imagine what God sees.

The arguments. The tension. The ego. The fear.

From that height, everything suddenly looks so small.

And maybe that is the truth about anger.

Maybe anger is fear wearing armor. Maybe it is pain demanding to be seen. Maybe it is grief with nowhere to go.

But even if anger is an illusion, an act, or a defense mechanism… it still feels painfully real when you are inside of it.

That is why awareness and thus, self-control matters.

Because if you do not understand your anger, your anger will begin speaking for you.

And fear should never become the loudest voice in the room.

To those who carry fire within them: May you learn how to warm the world with it, instead of burning yourself alive. * * * "Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God." - James 1:19-25