I recently…let’s see, how does one say this, “started back into therapy?” Is that correct English? I guess when you are receiving mental health care you are “in therapy” so if you have been “out of therapy” and start up again you are going back in or into.

Anyway, I digress. The point is that I sought out a new therapist because I felt like I needed someone, who (in the words of my son who is in therapy) “is a disinterested third party who will hold me accountable for my own mental health goals.” Or something like that. I needed to talk to someone and not someone I know who would just placate me with platitudes or worse yet try to assuage me with unhelpful advice. And I needed to talk to someone because I’m having what I term to be “anger issues.” I “fly off the handle” at the slightest provocation. “Fly off the handle is an American phrase that comes from the way an axe-head which has come loose will fly off of its handle in an unpredictable manner and strike any innocent person or object in its way.” (Grammarist.com) Yup. that pretty much sums it up. I’m a loose axe-head. Not someone you’d want to bring to an axe-throwing social.

Within the first two visits with my therapist I began to theorize that I might be losing my axe-head because I’ve been stuffing a lot of frustration and anxiety over the years. I used to kind of pride myself on the fact that I take things pretty much in stride and when people around me are losing their shit I’m the steady one. In fact, people who are anxious by nature tend to gravitate toward me because I can be a calming presence, unruffled and reasonable. So I started back into therapy because I’m not always the calm one these days and I’m trying to figure out why. Although the more I think about life in America in the 21st century there are plenty of anxiety-inducing options to choose from. Is it that simple?

Anger is considered by most to be a secondary emotion, in that it generally is a symptom rather than the disease itself. Anger is the mask that a variety of hurts hide behind, perhaps because anger is perceived–at least subconsciously–as the stronger emotion and who wants to turn up one’s delicate underbelly of weak emotions for everyone to see. According to Leon F. Seltzer Ph.D. in Psychology Today, “A good deal of our anger is motivated by a desire not to experience guilt—and beyond this, the distressing emotions of hurt and fear.” He also goes on to say that feeling disregarded, unimportant, and powerless are among some of the emotions that can manifest themselves as anger–and certainly those are biggies for me. Interesting that he uses the qualifier of “distressing” when describing these emotions. So we perceive that anger is less distressing perchance?

My therapist shared another visual about how anger works. It’s called the “Anger Iceberg,” implying that there could be so much more beneath the anger that shows on the surface. As I look at the image I can see that some of my anger could be triggered by several of the emotions represented there. But for sure one of the reasons that I often feel anger is because I feel powerless–I have little or no control over a situation that I feel like I should have some modicum of control over. I realized one day in a therapy session that I frequently don’t have–or can’t find–my voice.

Power–the positive kind–comes with being heard. Being heard means being listened to and acknowledged as having something to say, something that can express what one is thinking and feeling, something that says “I’m a valuable person and I deserve to have a say.” Sometimes my voice is just not “heard,” literally. My words fall like arrows that never made it to the target. Sometimes I’m simply not “allowed” to have a voice, in other words, I’m not allowed to have the feelings I have and certainly not allowed to share those feelings. And powerlessness leads to a feeling of helplessness.

A quick search on the internet reveals that experts differ on whether powerless and helpless are truly synonymous (as a thesaurus would assert) or if they are two different feelings. Some would argue that powerlessness is, in fact, not an emotion. Whether they are synonymous or not, I believe they walk hand-in-hand. To be stripped of your personal power creates a feeling of helplessness, and if it happens often enough it can lead to hopelessness. And anger is the “acceptable” way to express all of those things. Except, its not. Anger gets hushed up in polite society, especially among women and girls.

In her classic book, Reviving Ophelia: Saving the Selves of Adolescent Girls, Mary Pipher writes about the pressures that society places on girls and women to be “nice,” “beautiful,” “submissive” and that she encourages young women to work hard at taking back their feelings. She writes, “Authenticity is an “owning” of all experience, including emotions and thoughts that are not socially acceptable.” And I would add, taking back our voices so that we can speak our truth. It’s scary. It means that we might offend and for people like me who thrive on others “liking me” offending the other is taboo. Having a voice means taking back some of the power. And learning to use it constructively. It also means being prepared for the other to not listen, to not accept, to allow those arrows to hit the ground. We do not have any control over whether–or how–the other hears us. But we do have control over what we speak. That is true power.