Peer Reflection:
Looking back, I rarely remember what the arguments were about, just the intensity of the anger, how it hijacked my body, and the shame that followed. I remember the heaviness. The lashing out. The aftermath of emotional wreckage, like I had turned into someone I didn’t recognize.
I didn’t know how to name emotions. I didn’t know how to sit with discomfort. I only knew how to explode or escape.
For me, anger wasn’t just yelling. It was numbing with alcohol and drugs. It was self-harm. It was shutting down and running away. Anything to avoid the more painful emotions hiding underneath: grief, fear, loneliness, rejection. I didn’t feel heard. I didn’t feel like I mattered. And when rage took over, I felt ashamed of the destruction, yet unsure how to stop it, almost like I didn’t understand what was happening, or how I lost control so easily.
The Turning Point
The turning point came when I began noticing how my reactions and outbursts were affecting the people around me.
When I first started trying to change, it felt so uncomfortable. Even now, writing about it, I’m squirming in my chair. Starting a new pattern is awkward. It can feel like you’re betraying yourself. That’s why so many people stay stuck.
When anger rises and the thought enters your mind, “This is anger,” or “I need to take a break,” you’re in the moment of choice. For me, that meant convincing every atom in my body to pause. My rational mind told me to walk away. My emotional mind screamed, “If you stop, the other person wins. The problem won’t get solved.”
But here’s the truth: that messy middle is where the rewiring begins.
It all Starts with Noticing
It started with noticing—recognizing when my body was shifting. A clenched jaw. A hot face. Racing thoughts. I began naming it: “I’m getting angry.” That moment of awareness gave me a sliver of choice.
I tried taking breaks. At first, I didn’t know how. I’d storm out, slam doors, cry in the bathroom. But slowly, I learned to say, “I need 15 minutes to calm down. I’ll come back when I can think clearly.”
Did I do it perfectly? No. Sometimes I raised my voice anyway. Sometimes I didn’t return when I said I would. But every attempt planted a seed. I messed up. I tried again.
Gaining More Insight
And something surprising happened along the way…
I realized not everyone could hold space for my emotions, even when I expressed them calmly. Some deflected, gaslit, changed the subject, or blamed everything on me. That was painful, but also clarifying.
Emotional regulation helped me see who was safe enough to hear my truth and who wasn’t.
So I kept going. I kept practicing. I learned to take breaks before the breaking point. I learned to speak up, even while flooded with emotion. And most importantly, I learned to sit in that messy middle without letting shame swallow me whole.
That was The Old Me
Now, I’m grateful that these old feelings feel foreign. It shows how far I’ve come.
I remind myself: I am safe. I am calm. I am different. I make healthier choices now.
The scars the rage monster left behind? They’re still there, just under the surface, but they don’t own me anymore.
I’ve learned to pause. To notice the rising heat. To respond with intention. I use my voice with care. I take breaks when I need them. I repair when I misstep. I don’t let shame write the story.
I still have work to do. I can still be sharp. But I no longer explode. I no longer hurt people just to release what I’m feeling.
That was the old me.
And now? She’s grounded, aware, and in control.
And I’m so proud of her.
