Anger Management


Debbie's story - "finding out what my anger was about "

I've always suffered from bouts of depression and anxiety, but never enough to seek help. That is until I had my son, Thomas, who's now three. After I split up with his father when Thomas was two, I was at an all-time low and worried about my ability to be a good mother. I found my counsellor nine months ago through a friend, and checked out her website. She specialises in something called Existential therapy, which is soul- deepening stuff and helps you get in touch with your inner self and deal with problems by seeing how your own thoughts and interpretations have shaped them.

I discovered that I'd felt very judged all my life and that I subsequently took any negative comments to heart, always beating myself up for not being good enough. I hadn't previously realised was that it was my own emotions that caused me to interpret other people's words and actions so negatively. Because of the way I was, I couldn't trust myself I constantly questioned my ability to perform well – and I couldn't trust anyone else either, so my relationships with men were always disastrous.

Sometimes my counsellor would help me go back to painful childhood memories that I'd buried so I could see how they'd frozen me in time and stopped me moving on.

She didn't ask intrusive questions, but got me to talk with subtle prompts, for example: "You haven't mentioned much about your dad." It was up to me to explore those areas when I was ready.

I was seeing her every week for nine months and with each session, my confidence grew. I realised I had a lot of buried resentment inside me. In my family, we hadn't been allowed to show our anger, but she helped me release it, and doing so strengthened me as a person. I could see how repressing it had depressed me.

Understanding my anger helped me as a mum, too. I could allow Thomas to be cross, and let him know it was a normal emotion. I don't want him to end up burying feelings as I did.

The sessions have made me feel more confident as a mum and as a person.

If you resonate with Debbie’s story and are looking for support, know that help is out there. If you’re ready, you can start your therapy journey by simply contacting progressiveprocess@live.com.au or by clicking here.

Peter: "The conversation that changed my life"

I was a really weird kid. I had this internal energy in abundance. I remember spending hours playing and staring at these little action figures, playing with animals and staring at the television too closely. I spent many hours in my own head. A lot of the other kids seemed to define themselves with things that were happening externally, while I always believed the person I am when I’m alone is the real me.

I felt a great deal of comfort within my own mind; my imagination was a place where I spent the majority of my childhood. The excess energy I had inside me started seeping out into full blown anger episodes and addictive and self harming behaviours. Never being able to grasp a hold on that energy became very taxing.

Having this crazy amount of energy inside of me, led me to the point where I believed I was mentally insane. That makes sense though, right? If your behaviour and normalities are completely different and bizarre to everyone else's around you, especially as a teenager, surely you'd think that you must be insane? It was something I wasn’t too fussed about, but it was pretty alarming for my parents - and for the doctors who checked me out. I became lonely and angry at the world, frustrated that there was no one I could relate too.

I hit a low point, where I would sit and bang my head against a wall, just to try to stop thinking, to try to get 'normal' thoughts.

I had always known from a young age that the story I was born into didn’t serve me, but I didn’t know what story to follow instead. So I broke down. Then, something beautiful happened. Arising from various reasons of my struggling to cope with my very existence, I found myself on a cold, Saturday night, sitting with a homeless man at a train station called Tiny Tim.

I was waiting to jump on the train home and had 22 minutes to kill. He saw me and asked if I'd had a nice night. I decided against my judgemental persona to go and speak to him, surprised he hadn't asked for money. We started speaking and Tim explained he was homeless because he decided to quit his job to travel, but things went wrong. He’d got ill abroad and had to come back. But, he came back to find his partner had taken everything, he'd lost all his possessions and had nothing left. But that wasn't what shocked me, what shocked me was what followed.

The moment he’d found out all his stuff had been taken and that he was technically homeless, he went straight to the nearest art shop and bought eight packs of crayons. Since that day, Tim has spent every single day of his life writing messages of love, unity and tolerance anywhere he could get away with; buildings, pavements, signs, walls, wherever he could find. He encouraged others to write messages too, around his.

I saw his hat on the floor that was filled with about two dollars in total. Tim explained that people offer him donations for his messages or will give some cash to write a poem for a loved one or friend. I was astounded. Here was a homeless man who wanted to be homeless. Here was a man that society destroyed and spat out, but this betrayal had elevated Tim to a life of pure joy and happiness. No money, no possessions, just travelling the world writing messages of love to make enough money to move along to the next place.

I ended up missing the train and we continued to talk, about the wrongs of the world, how things should be different. Just two random people, from two completely different lives, completely connected on a conscious level through mutual suffering and then it hit me; life is a story we tell ourselves.

My whole life had been spent trying to be heard, to fulfil expectations or to become something - rich, famous, anything that was ‘credible’ as is the case for us all. But that night, Tim proved it didn’t have to be that way, it could be different. I had a personal revolution.

Who was I living for? Whose story was I living inside of? Why shouldn’t I write my own? Here was Tim, a man who was everything society tells us not to be; homeless, poor, vulnerable, unstable, unemployed, with no money, no possessions, no anything; yet the calmest, most loving and content person I’d ever met.

This was the moment I realised that our lives are just stories and thoughts inside our mind. The way we see ourselves, others, the world around us, it’s all just a perception, a narrative, a story. I realised our world isn’t an external place that we then perceive internally, but our world is an internal place that creates the perception of the world we see externally.

That night I realised that I was wrong; the world is great, I’d just been choosing to see it another way. I’d not realised until now, but that story was only one of many possibilities that are available. And, although it was important to break free from the caging story, it was equally important to then replace that story with something better, something I’d never previously done.

We all need a story inside our head to live, to be happy, to be content. And, the only way to live a life that makes you happy is to create your own one. That night, I realised what my priority was: compassion. Compassion was what was going to save me. It was my way out. But, even more so, I realised, compassion was what was going to save anyone who needed saving.

How did I know this was the answer? Because nothing else had worked. I'd exhausted all other options; alcohol, drugs, sex. None of it solved my issues, it just simply distracted me from facing my issues. Whether it be for the length of a tequila or an orgasm, they were just things keeping me disillusioned and disenfranchised with life. It became clear to me that the answer was love; a love for myself, a love for others unconditionally, a love for life - something I'd never felt.

I hugged Tim, I thanked him for all he'd done. I took out $20 and offered to buy him a ticket home. He broke down. It was the first time he could remember someone showing him compassion. He said he hadn't been hugged in so many years that he’d forgotten what it was like. But, although he couldn't believe I was willing to be so charitable, he declined the $20.

He told me that as much as he appreciated the gesture, there was something he wanted even more than my money. He wanted to have a line in one of my posts, articles on the net, so that he could be remembered and that his message could be spread further. So, I hope he reads this somehow.

So now here I am, writing this post for you to read. It’s been an even crazier journey than my crazy mind could’ve ever made up. But this isn’t to gloat, in fact, it’s quite the opposite. I’m proof that we can all become anything we believe we can be. Not in a wishy-washy ‘wait for it to happen’ kind of way, but when we choose to rewrite the story we tell ourselves, we truly can write a best-selling tale. I’m now in therapy taking my life story even further. It’s been an emotional ride so far but one hell of story to read.

If you resonate with Peter’s story and are looking to write and work through your story with professional support, know that help is out there. If you’re ready, you can start this process by simply contacting progressiveprocess@live.com.au or by clicking here.