Yes, Anger Can Be Generative. But It Can Also Be Deadly.

“At this point in the story I [Kvothe] am tempted to lie. To say I spoke these things in an uncontrollable rage. That I was overwhelmed with grief at the memory of my murdered family … Then I would have some excuse …

But they were my words. In the end, I was the one who said those things. Only me.

[She] responded in kind, hurt and furious and sharp-tongued as myself. We were both proud and angry and filled with the unshakable certainty of youth. We said things we never would have said otherwise, and when we left, we did not leave together.” — Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man’s Fear

I put the book down after this passage, profoundly depressed. I’ve always marveled at how some writers can evoke tangible emotion from pure fiction. It takes a certain level of talent to create real feelings out of nothing. Or seemingly so.

Modern physics tells us energy can never be created or destroyed — only converted from one form to another. It stands to reason, then, that Patrick Rothfuss isn’t creating, he’s connecting.

He is connecting Kvothe’s biting words to our own philippics spoken in haste. Connecting Kvothe’s fallout with a dear friend to our own past memories of relationships broken and shattered.

Connecting Kvothe’s deep regret to our own, lingering anguish.

And therein lies the sadness. Because we know that in real life, it’s much, much worse.

Anger will steal the content of your conversations

Not taint, or remove, or alter or ruin or destroy.

Steal.

When you speak, you wish to convey something, to pass along an idea that exists only in your head and make it understandable to another. That is the nature of language.

But when you speak in blind anger, that meaning is stolen away, replaced with a bitter shell that brings only pain.

I’ve witnessed many articulate, eloquent people spout childish insults you wouldn’t believe. I’ve heard stories of hearts broken in ways you wouldn’t expect, by those who claim to love.

Stolen words: “I’m nervous about all the extra hours you’ve been putting in at work, and I just get anxious that you’re not invested in us because of my past experiences.”

Spoken words: “Are you kidding me? Again? If you’re going to work so much, you might as well earn some actual money and provide like a real man! You’re pathetic. Just like stupid little me, expecting things to be different this time around. At least the last one was good in bed.”

Words hurt. And anger is the most dangerous type of fuel.

Anger will sever your connection with others

Anger is the enemy of empathy.

While many use the terms interchangeably, empathy is much deeper than sympathy. Sympathy is nothing more than emotional condolence given from afar. It’s kind, but removed and distant.

To truly empathize with someone requires immersing yourself fully in their situation. To feel what they feel. To understand their pain and use that emotional bridge as an outlet for compassion. It’s a hard thing to do, and a nearly impossible one to do completely.

It is also the foundation of emotional intelligence — an essential trait for cultivating successful relationships with others.

But when you are angry at someone — and you let it take over — you don’t understand them. You blame them. You don’t adopt their perspective. You invalidate it.

And rather than grow closer to them — the ultimate goal of empathy — you drive them farther away.

Anger will destroy your perception of yourself

This is a seldom explored consequence of anger. I am far from the first to counsel against anger, but many people’s advice focuses on others, as I did above. It talks of how anger will ruin your friendships and hurt your loved ones.

But, anger also has the potential to irreparably damage what is arguably your most important relationship — the one you have with yourself. If you spend enough time acting in anger, you risk a life of regret and guilt, spent in constant rumination over the hurt you’ve caused and what you’ve lost as a result.

The excerpt above from The Wise Man’s Fear isn’t the full story. I intentionally left out the most delicate part, as I thought it a perfect elaboration of the point I am trying to make here. Moments before his anger exploded, Kvothe searched for the right words, but he never found them, eventually entering into a heated, intense argument.

“I can’t help but feel that if I’d said the right thing at that moment, everything would have turned out differently. But even now, after years of thinking, I can’t imagine what I could have said that might have made things right.” — The Wise Man’s Fear

Anger cannot be tamed and controlled in the mere moments before it flares. Patience is a practice you need to cultivate, lest you say something you could regret for years to come. The sad truth about that last sentence is that it sounds melodramatic, but it really isn’t. It’s a harsh reality.

So be wary of anger, my friends, and guard against it fastidiously to improve the quality of your life.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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