In Conversation with Anger: Reflections on a Healing Journey

I write to process, so my Google Docs and notes app are filled with unpublished words. I found something I wrote in 2023. Two whole years later, and I think this is something someone might need. Let me know what you think.

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My biggest lesson from 2022 was learning how to navigate being angry while healing. Time has passed, but that lesson still echoes in my life today. Healing isn’t linear; it loops, resurfaces, and tests you in new ways when you least expect it.

People often talk about the phases of healing, you know, grief, acceptance, and forgiveness, but they rarely prepare you for the anger. And yet, that’s one of the hardest parts to navigate.

I’ve always considered myself insightful and objective, especially about my feelings; how I express them, how I process them, and how I project them onto others. But while healing, I realized something deeper: there were moments in my past when I should have been angry. Instead, I suppressed it. I swallowed the disappointment. I chose peace over confrontation.

Now, that suppressed anger was resurfacing in unexpected ways. Healing, I’ve learned, requires that I understand where my anger comes from, why it’s being triggered, and what the hurt beneath it is trying to tell me.

It’s uncomfortable, but it’s also preparation for the next version of myself. I have to be aware of the waters I’m wading through, especially when those waters are murky with emotion.

Understanding Where the Hurt Lives

I took the time to write about why I think I’m hurt and why I don’t want to be anymore. The truth, I was not just hurting because of one situation. I was hurting because of the unfairness I’ve had to accept and how others have responded to my heart. And in my heart of hearts, I know I’m a good person. I don’t move through the world with bad intentions. That’s something I hold onto tightly. I know where my heart is, and I try to live in a way that honors good karma. 

That season taught me to prepare for emotional waters that shift without warning. I had to learn to identify when my reactions came from present reality or old wounds demanding attention.

Everything comes back around, sometimes tenfold. So I’m careful about what I say, how I treat people, and how I express remorse.

One of my favorite books, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success, talks about how even when we can’t give or receive perfect karmic balance, there’s always a kind of transference, a ripple of responsibility. The way we handle our own remorse matters. Even without direct apologies, the way we process our actions internally shapes our future.

Redirecting the Anger

That’s where anger became my teacher. I learned to redirect it, to treat it not as a failure of grace, but as an indicator of growth. It showed me where I still cared, where I still needed to set boundaries, and where I still needed to heal.

Anger narrows your vision. It makes you focus on one thing that went wrong, one person who let you down, one version of events that hurts to remember. But if you step back, you start to see everything else that remains,  the people who stayed, the moments that still brought joy, the lessons that came disguised as loss.

By fixating on what was gone, I was depriving myself of what was still good.

That realization shifted something in me. My healing wasn’t just about moving through anger, it was about learning gratitude again. Gratitude for the small, steady progress. For self-trust rebuilding in real time. For being able to see beauty where bitterness once lived.

Healing in the Present Tense

Looking back now, that 2022 version of me was an active participant in her growth for the first time. She didn’t wait for healing to happen to her she worked for it. She used her gifts, her voice, her creativity, and she spoke truth even when it trembled. That season shaped the foundation for the woman I’m still becoming.

Now, I see anger differently. It’s no longer a place I fear, but a signal I respect. When it rises, I ask what needs acknowledgment, not suppression. I’ve learned that healing doesn’t mean avoiding pain, it means understanding it, respecting its message, and choosing peace anyway.

As I continue expanding, emotionally, spiritually, creatively, I’m still letting go. Anger is one of the things I can’t afford to carry.

So I’m moving on, again and again, into new seasons of grace. I’m grateful, because what’s meant for me will always meet me with open arms, not clenched fists.