All things considered, I’ve been doing pretty well in my post-break-up era.
I’ve been re-prioritizing my friends, hanging out with family, trying new things, and working hard.
I have a lot to be happy and grateful for.
And at the same time, it has felt like I’ve been carrying around this cancerous ball of negative energy in the pit of my stomach.
At first, I assumed it would just fade away over time.
It hasn’t.
If anything, in recent weeks it has become harder to ignore. The associated emotional burden, which started as a vague sadness at the thought of my relationship and its somewhat sudden end, turned into a steady stream of waterworks on a near-daily basis.
I was annoyed. “Isn’t time supposed to heal all wounds? Shouldn’t this be getting easier, not harder?”
The answer came to me during an “Anger, Boundaries and Safety” mini-workshop at the Haven Institute a few weeks ago.
The facilitator was explaining the importance of releasing negative energy from your body when you start to feel the pull of irritation and anger. An anger release—which should be done in a controlled setting either alone or with others who are not the subject of your anger—can take several forms, including yelling “at them” or having a tantrum on your bed with them in mind.
“Oh shit,” I thought. It reminded me of a conversation I’d had about my relationship with an energy worker in Mexico who had told me that the reason I never felt satisfied after crying about the hurt I had endured was because I was actually angry, not sad.
The thing is, expressing anger isn’t socially acceptable, especially for women. Women are “allowed” to cry and men are “allowed” to yell. But flip the script and the woman who yells is labeled a bitch and the man who cries is labeled weak.
So, what happens? Emotional suppression across the spectrum.
And when you suppress natural emotions that are both healthy and meant to be released, they can later manifest in mental and physical problems—including depression, anxiety, chronic pain, and digestive issues.
Safe to say I needed to get this anger out.
And at the Haven, I finally got the chance.
The way the program is structured, there are 3 sessions per day (ranging from 2 to 3 hours) for 5 days. The first two sessions were conducted with the group at large (approximately 30 people) while the evening sessions were done in smaller groups of 6 to 8 people.
When people are open and vulnerable with each other, they grow close and connected at lightning speed. Which is exactly what happened with my small group—we all felt like we’d known each other for decades when in fact we could count the days we’d been acquainted on one hand.
Each small group session had a 45-minute period in which you had the opportunity for individual-focused time. During your focus time, the program leader would lead you through breathwork and acupressure exercises while the other participants were there simply to observe and hold space for you.
The leader asked in advance what I wanted to do for my focus time. I told her I needed to get this anger out of me ASAP!
That’s exactly what she allowed me to do.
After a few minutes of breathing, pulse-checking, and acupressure releasing, she gave me space to “do what I needed to do.”
I was lying on a small mattress in the center of the room (sounds more cult-y than it was!) and just kicked and punched and thrashed and screamed at the top of my lungs for 30 seconds straight.
It felt amazing.
Then, I did it again.
After four short rounds, I was completely spent. And it felt like all the bad energy had, in fact, been released.
It was the first time all week I’d been able to talk about my relationship without tearing up. And it was the first time I’d felt peace in my heart for a long time.
The whole experience left me in a state of reflection on anger. Even if there isn’t an acute event like a break-up that you can point towards, most of us experience subtle irritations that are pushed down and build up over time.
What if everyone committed to releasing their anger on a weekly basis with just a 30-second tantrum in their beds? Would we become less irritable and quick to anger?
I don’t know.
But the experience did leave me with an important lesson: angry energy is certainly better out than in.
So, how am I going to be releasing this toxic energy from here on out?
Regardless of whether I’m feeling particularly mad, I have committed to two short anger releases per week (in the form of the aforementioned tantrum). I also plan on checking out a rage room with some friends later this month.
Stay tuned.