Understanding Anger

I boarded the crowded L Train and grabbed one of the few reaming seats. An NYU student sat down next to me. He started venting to his buddy about how he suspected his girlfriend of 2 years was cheating on him. He confronted her. She denied it. And promptly dumped him. I watched his jaw line protrude as he grinded his teeth and his knuckles turning white as he clinched his fists in anger. He dropped F bombs in every sentence, called her the B word and even the C word. Clearly he was angry.

An older couple takes their seat across from me. With their foldout maps, fanny packs and confused faces, it was easy to see they were first time tourists. The wife looked particularly uncomfortable and lost. A Muslim man sat down beside her. He was casually dressed - sported a full beard, a turban and a backpack. Most likely a native New Yorker and not a "terrorist" as the accusing eyes of the couple seemed to have labeled him. Their pupils darted at him and then back at one another in horror, as if they assumed he had a bomb stashed in his backpack and was planning to blow us all up. The Muslim man sat there peacefully and quietly reading the sports section of the newspaper. While the woman began to fidget nervously, sliding further from the man and closer to her husband. Disgusted. Lips tightly pursed. Clearly she was angry.

I decide now is a good time to shoot a couple quick e-mails off from my phone, weed through my voicemail and double check my schedule for the remaining half of the day. Of course this is the moment when my Droid decides it's going to lockup on me. This is the moment when it erases all my information and resets itself back to factory settings like the lemon it is. This is also the moment I realize too much of my life resides in and relies on a 4-inch device. And I want to throw it! Clearly I was angry.

In an attempt to deal with the anger bubbling up inside of me and all around me, I turn my iPod on to drown out the cursing NYU student. I close my eyes so I no longer have to bear witness to the racial profiling. And I tilt my head back and breathe deeply to relieve the tension headache I've instantly given myself. That's when it hits me. Anger isn't the problem here.

Anger is just a mask. It's a symptom of something deeper. It is never the problem. The real problem is hurt, fear, and/or frustration. And we wear anger to hide these emotions. Because somewhere in life we have been taught that draping ourselves in an ugly cloak of anger is somehow more attractive than showing hurt, fear or frustration. Apparently hurt, fear and frustration are hideous! Yes, these emotions must be concealed at all costs. That's where anger steps in.

The key to understanding anger is recognizing what the true underlying issue is.

The NYU student wasn't angry. He felt hurt. For not trusting.
The tourist wasn't angry. She felt fear. For not knowing if she could trust.
And I wasn't angry either. I felt frustrated. For trusting too much.

Not only is anger an ugly emotion, it's one of the hardest emotions to overcome. Because to get to the root of our anger we must dig deeper. And digging emotionally deeper into oneself is never a pretty or pleasant task. That alone makes me angry! Or is that really fear talking? Or maybe sadness speaking? After all, it's always easier to be mad than sad.

Think about it.