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Namaste 🙏🏻


'We can not be responsible for the world that created our minds. But we can take responsibility for the mind with which we create our world.'


Gabor Mate

 

It was a regular Friday night. She managed to get home not too late after running around from the Language Centre to the school across central London and even picked up a few of her favourite mochi balls from Whole Foods on the way back. The bus didn’t take ages, and it seemed like she was moving in the opposite direction of the dressed-up, excited crowds heading out. She felt an immense relief that she no longer felt the need to chase pubs, cocktails, or the socially expected 'being out on a Friday night.' Fridays had become the opposite of what she always thought she needed. She couldn’t wait to get home, heat up some food, watch an inspiring video from The School of Life, and end her working week with a few healthy thoughts. But that night, those thoughts took a slightly disturbing turn. The smart recommendation algorithm served her a video on anger. Petrified at first, she closed the laptop and went to make herself a cup of delicious Genmaicha tea. After the pleasant distraction, she decided not to resist the advice and took it as a sign of what she might have needed at the time. Memories began to flash back.


 

What she remembered from childhood were her mother’s high-pitched voice, teapots smashed on the floor, and the occasional canceled dinner. The table would remain set for hours, the food growing cold, but no one dared go to the kitchen or take their seat. A few hours later, they would eventually eat—purely out of physical need and with the intention of not upsetting anyone further. Anger would linger, then turn into sulking, and the house would drown in awkward silence until the next morning when everyone pretended nothing had happened. The reasons varied: her father not doing something 'properly,' her grades being worse than another pupil’s, getting home later than expected, or even getting sick without a 'logical' reason. Her sister coming home tipsy was another trigger because it looked 'bad.' Compared to others, everyone in the household seemed to be at an obvious disadvantage, which sparked constant negativity.


These scenes were a common part of her upbringing, and later in life, she found herself reliving them—only this time as the protagonist. Naturally, she had absorbed many of her mother’s emotions and reactions, with anger being the 'winner.' But she also inherited wonderful qualities: a love for animals, especially cats; optimism in tough situations; a slim physique; a thirst for discovery; and a decent knack for math. All of this, she now credits entirely to her mother. None of it felt like her own achievement. She also shared a close connection with her father, who was her mum’s emotional opposite: content with very little, quiet, and non-confrontational—qualities she often found herself lacking. Her mother was upset that the daughter who was supposedly a genetic copy of her had developed such a deep connection with her dad. From a material perspective, her mother had indeed done much more for the family, working tirelessly to provide a safe and secure life during the challenging post-Soviet era. But the emotional cost was high—her mum had no time to care for her own feelings, let alone those of her children. While her dad didn’t contribute much financially, he offered something invaluable: a safe emotional space, free from judgment, comparisons, or expectations.


For over 30 years, she had no idea what to do with the anger she had inherited. She resented it when people pointed it out, slamming doors and crying out, "It’s you who’s angry!" before disappearing. While teapots were spared, the doors bore the brunt of her frustration. She would shout over the phone if someone said something she didn’t like, and if she couldn’t bring herself to yell, she would boil inside until she burst into tears. The release felt good, but she couldn’t understand why she was suffering. Later, she read that anger can be healthy as it helps set personal boundaries. The danger lies when it escalates into rage. Back then, she didn’t know the difference, and from what she remembers now, there were no conscious requests for 'space'—only the instinctive need to express dissatisfaction, following the patterns she had learned in childhood.


 

When she finished watching The School of Life video, tears welled up. She felt a sense of relief, knowing she had been working on her anger and that changes were beginning to show. But she also felt regret for the many souls she had hurt unknowingly. She couldn’t use 'not knowing' as an excuse, but it comforted her to realise the harm had never been intentional. She felt deeply grateful for the friends who stuck by her despite everything, choosing to focus on her good intentions.


Five years later, she still considers herself an angry person. She calls it an emotional chronic condition that requires ongoing care. On bad days, the triggers seem overwhelming, and she slips. On good days, she recognises the signs before anger 'speaks' for her—and that, to her, is a huge improvement. Occasionally, when her mum gets angry, she finds herself getting angry with her in return. Now, she is searching for that boundary she read about to help her move forward. But as soon as she shifts her focus away from herself, she realises that her mother is suffering. And the person in more pain is the one who needs the most attention. She and her father still share healthy, heartwarming conversations. She still wishes she was more like him.


When her mood is low, she avoids angry people and sometimes even judges them. But as soon as she realises that this initial response isn’t healthy, she makes an effort to be understanding. Her heart sinks whenever she sees parents fighting around their children. She wants to run over and make them hug their kids, so the children don’t grow up mimicking that anger. When she shares her story with others, they often say, "I can’t imagine you being that way." It both hurts and lifts her at the same time.

Being aware of the root cause of her anger has been a significant part of her healing process. The truth is, however, that the scar will never fully disappear. The bruises will continue to be pressed by circumstances and people. So sometimes, she has to make peace with being angry. And while a lot of smart books tell us that anger is a choice, she can't entirely agree. If the “anger muscle” grew over the years, developing the “no-anger muscle” will also require time. So a temporary escape from the triggers is something she considers acceptable. At times, she'll also have to ask for help from loved ones and for the patience to allow her the occasional slip — so that eventually, she can create a healthier world, both inside and out.


Have a healthy day


What emotions did you inherit from your parents?

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