Milena Moser about strong emotions: What to do with anger

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The editor apologizes for conducting the video interview from his hobby basement. I’m immediately fascinated: “What is this?” – I ask, pointing to the shapeless, almost two-meter thing behind her. At first she is a little embarrassed, then grins. “Punching bag”.

No wonder this thing fascinated me. I don’t know how many times over the last 20-25 years I’ve been advised to take up boxing. A lot of people around me agree that this would be especially helpful for me. They don’t agree with yoga, which I love so much. They think I’m already too lenient. Even if he’s not particularly physically agile. I lack assertiveness, they say.

My youngest son even compares me to Charlie Brown, who always believes Lucy’s promise that this time she won’t pull out the soccer ball at the last moment. And every time you step into the void and fall through your own feet. The comparison isn’t particularly flattering, but it’s not wrong either.

But I’m not alone in this. The journalist says that she works part-time in a boxing studio, where she mainly trains women like me. “Your generation doesn’t really have access to anger,” she says. It’s right. My friends also feel the same.

Are we even angry, we ask ourselves? Is our anger directed inward or outward, toward ourselves or toward the world? And why is it so difficult for us to come to terms with this? It was much easier for me to think about laziness or envy. I struggle with anger.

This is no stranger to me: I grew up with an angry mother. There were good reasons for this anger, but as a child I could not understand them. Their violence scared me first. Later, however, there were situations when I shouted that my vocal cords hurt, and even threw one or two plates at the wall. It just never felt good.

My anger was never an expression of strength, but always an expression of despair. I have never felt more helpless than in these moments. And my anger always dissolved in bitter tears.

The best way to redirect them is to write. No wonder my first books were full of unplanned murders. But as soon as I got up from the table, I became suspicious of her. Personally, I wanted nothing to do with her. I took my life in a more pleasant and respectful direction.

I trained myself to endure unpleasant situations. I fell in love with the funniest man I had ever met and was infected and inspired by his optimism.

But the anger did not go away. It still blinks sometimes. In the never-ending battle with American healthcare. When I watch the news. When the sky turns orange again. And then I think I should respect her. Moreover, fan them and let them burn like fire.

Even if it’s hard to bear. But it is anger that makes us fight, move, change. It is anger that gives us the strength to push a boulder up a hill.

Source: Blick