anger management

i didn't use to think of myself as an angry person. in fact, i managed to live nigh on thirty years on this earth without really getting angry at all. not even once. not even a little. that's clearly the sign of a non-angry person, wouldn't you say?

(un)fortunately, six years of a spicy cocktail of motherhood and therapy has turned me into a person for whom anger management is an issue to ponder seriously (and repeatedly). It turns out that not only do i have it in me to get angry often and passionately, but i seem to bring to each new outburst somewhat of a backlog of unresolved conflicts (maybe maybe maybe somehow related to the thirty years of not getting angry??), resulting in irrational, hard-to-stop and hard-to-manage rage.

not really what one wants around little children.

so, necessity being the mother of invention and all that, over the years, i have collected a number of strategies, all of which have been successful at times, and have failed me miserably at other times. still, for the record, so my children know that their bizarre memories are not inventions, and just in case these may be of some use to others, here is my 'best-of' anger management techniques for frazzled mothers of young children:

- the first and best one is to not get angry at all. borrowed from Buddhism. this involves becoming aware of the fact that there is nothing to be angry about. it only works if the rage is caught early enough (i.e. before it is rage), and it involves deep conscious breathing and feeling one's way into the dissatisfaction/frustration/tiredness/overwhelmingness/etc. which is at the root of this particular volcanic moment. the idea is to stay with the discomfort, feel one's way into it, manage to see and feel that what one needs is a bath/a deep breath/some fresh air/food/a nap/a drink/a cuddle and what one does not need is to scream at one's child. unfortunately, for people with a serious backlog, like yours truly, this technique hardly ever works because by the time i am aware of needing it, it's usually way too late.

- the anger corner (borrowed from Core Energetics): designate one corner/room in the house as the official anger area and equip it with various thumping, kicking, boxing, and biting equipment. this technique derives from the idea that anger is like vomit: it's no good trying to keep it in, but unloading oneself on, or in the vicinity of, another person's feet is not conducive to good relationships. in other words, 'get it out and do it in private'. in practice, when i feel myself becoming unreasonably angry and i am past the point where the explosion could be avoided, i say to the children, 'excuse me for a moment, while i deal with my anger', and then run upstairs and thump myself back into contentment and peace. this technique works very well but has the slight disadvantage that the children are left alone in the meantime, which they don't mind one bit but it makes it difficult for me to really concentrate on what i am doing, since i am also half listening to make sure they are ok. plus, for obvious reasons, this technique only works when at home.

- the lion (i made this one up): this is my favourite, mostly because it's tremendously effective. and versatile. and really fun. and it happens in contact with the children. and did i mention that it's really really fun? anyway, it's an anger game. the angry person says 'i'm kind of getting angry here, so i'm going to pretend to be an angry lion. is that ok with you?' in my experience, all the children then shout 'YES!!!!'. they get to choose who they are, the options being: not playing at all (extremely safe option for the child), being the lion's cub (also very safe since the child positions him/herself behind the angry lion and is being protected by it), being another lion (if the child also has some anger/energy that wants out) or the prey (if the child feels like running and/or a little thrill). once it's clear who everyone is, the angry lion (me, me, me) starts stomping her feet, clawing at the air, roaring at the top of her lungs, and chasing the prey, with as much stomping, roaring and clawing as is required, until, sated and exhausted, filled with fresh air and laughter, the lion hugs all players and non-players to her ample bosom and asks for forgiveness for being such a complicated mama.

the initial difficulty with the 'lion' game is also what makes it most fun and liberating in the end, namely that in order to be able to use it, one has to seriously let go of all hope of ever being seen as a 'sane-i've-got-it-all-together' kind of mother by street-level strangers.

what about you people out there? what do you do when the mustard climbs up your noses?