The Old Me
You might not believe this, but, I was known for my temper—the smallest things used to set me off. Once, while enjoying a beach day with a friend, words were exchanged, and the tension between us escalated. Back then, I didn’t understand the power of emotions or how to calm myself down so I could respond instead of react. And my reactions? They were explosive.
As we left the beach, the argument continued in the car. I felt trapped and furious. We were both yelling, and I lost control. In a moment of pure emotional chaos, I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the car door, fully intending to jump out of the moving vehicle.
Looking back, I see that this reckless decision was my desperate attempt to remove myself from the situation. I didn’t have the skills or the understanding of anger—I only knew that when I was upset, my emotions took over, and I said and did things I never truly meant. I was reacting, not thinking.
This wasn’t an isolated incident. When anger consumed me, I threw things, kicked things, and said horrible words that couldn’t be taken back. It wasn’t until I started learning about emotions that I began peeling back the layers of my anger.
For the longest time, when the rage monster appeared, I didn’t even recognize the warning signs. I wasn’t aware of what made me angry or how my body reacted until the fight was already over. I didn’t notice my blood pressure rising or my muscles tensing—anger was so ingrained in me that I assumed those sensations were just part of who I was.
The Change
That changed when I started working with my therapist. I learned to recognize the subtle signs: my heart beating faster, my muscles tightening, that slow burn of frustration bubbling inside me. I was taught tools—how to walk away, how to remove myself from the situation, how to disengage before things spiraled out of control. Deep breaths, brisk walks, choosing not to see the other person as an enemy.
I’ll never forget the first time I put these tools into action. In the middle of a heated argument, I paused and said, “I’m feeling elevated. Let’s take a walk and continue this conversation after.”
The person I was speaking to didn’t take it well. They told me I was avoiding the conversation, abandoning their needs, and that taking a walk was a stupid idea. But in reality, they were angry because they couldn’t control my emotions or my actions like they had expected.
So I stood up, listened to my body, and took the walk alone.
When I returned, I felt calmer—ready to continue the hard conversation. But the other person escalated again, raising their voice and growing angrier. That’s when I realized: taking a break worked. I was in control of my emotions, and they weren’t.
That moment was a turning point. The more I practiced, the more I noticed anger’s presence before it took over. I wasn’t perfect, but over time, the emotional explosions faded. I built healthier patterns.
The New Me
And then came the day I knew—without a doubt—that I had control over my anger. A loved one, struggling with deep insecurities, projected their pain onto me. In the past, I would have snapped, lashed out, or fed into the fight. But this time, something shifted. I felt the anger rise… and then it subsided before I even responded.
I saw the situation for what it was—their pain, not mine. I remained calm, stood up for myself multiple times, and ultimately set a boundary: I needed space to process. That was the breaking point for them. They ended the relationship because they weren’t willing to respect my need for space.
Losing that relationship hurt. The grief was real. But at the same time, I was so damn proud of myself. I hadn’t gotten defensive. I hadn’t engaged in their anger. I had given them my time, my patience, and multiple chances to work through it. Asking for space wasn’t unreasonable—anyone in my life today would understand and respect that.
I handled it with clarity, self-respect, and emotional control.
That friendship ended, but I walked away knowing my worth. Knowing that all the internal work I had done was real. That I managed my anger like a pro.
And that? That was a victory.
