Words of a multiple: In defence of anger

“Tell me about your anger.” These words opened our therapy session last week, and I was slightly taken aback. “Tell me about your anger,” my therapist insisted. The next 15 minutes were filled with various swear words as I tried to pinpoint exactly where my anger was coming from. As she listened and sometimes swore along with me, I knew that anger could be safe, that anger was even needed, at times.

What has changed is our understanding of anger, and the realisation that anger is an important part of healing

Anger is one of those emotions people dare not express and rarely talk about. Why? Simply put, anger hurts people, and embracing the potential to cause pain is terrifying to many. For us, because our ‘origin story’ is severe childhood trauma, anger is an emotion we have often been on the wrong end of: anger which led to aggression, cruelty, abuse, and even torture. We spend a lot of time ensuring we are nothing like our abusers. The maxim that from cruelty comes gentleness is only partly true: our gentleness is entirely self-chosen, and our abusers do not get any credit for making us kind or strong. And yet, if we strive to avoid being like those who hurt us, where does that leave anger?

For years, anger was an emotion we cast out. We approached everything with a soft voice and a kind heart. That has not changed. What has changed is our understanding of anger, and the realisation that anger is an important part of healing. Anger is so easily tarred with the brush of being only a negative thing, which we should focus on controlling and overcoming; yes, those negative connotations have their place, but anger also causes positive outcomes. Most notably, anger propels justice in many senses (perhaps with a detour at revenge for some people).

I was angry both at the injustice against me and against others, and this quickly spiralled into anger at the injustice of the world

Yes, anger and explicit eye-for-an-eye revenge may not be condoned, and I do not mean to say they ought to be, but they are important emotions for coming to find and enact justice.

Returning to that therapy session I mentioned at the start, the conversation (after all the swearing) continued with an exploration of exactly what made me angry. Again, this was ultimately a simple answer: I was angry that I had been hurt, and that the people who had hurt me went without consequence. I was angry both at the injustice against me and against others, and this quickly spiralled into anger at the injustice of the world. Writing this, my phone is pinging with notifications about the Epstein files and Russel Brand’s latest accusations, where the abusers are given limelight and fame, and their victims – well, they are barely acknowledged. I hope to God that they are healing in silence, because the world certainly seems not to spare them a thought.

So, what do we do about it? Well, we do the next right thing. Today, that means I am writing this post, sharing and educating about DID and the effects of trauma. Tomorrow, that might just mean getting out of bed and, to steal a cliché I once cringed at, allowing recovery to be my best revenge. Down the line, that may mean facing up to my abusers and taking direct action against them. Or it might mean just continuing to share my story, create resources, and support others who were victims of the same crime. But always, my anger will be there, like a gently encouraging friend who says, “You deserved better.”