Anger Management: It’s Not Just For Bullies

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When I read or hear “anger management” I get a mental image of wife beaters, child abusers, and violent men required by law to attend a program so they can get their aggression under control and live saner lives or at least not hurt anyone again. I picture a bunch of burly guys sitting around in a circle, muttering and staring at the floor as a chirpy young therapist asks them to get in touch with their feelings.

That’s the stereotype. But plenty of women have anger issues and commit violent crimes just like men. And then there’s most of us: you and me. Maybe we’ve never hit anyone or beaten someone up or done anything more violent than yell or throw pillows or blast a horn and curse at some rude driver. But we all get angry and deal with it in different ways.

In the last two weeks I struggled with anger and won.

Three weeks ago, as you may have read, my cat Eliot passed away. While he was approaching his end and I was making decisions, my other cat was coming out of an eighteen-month remission from lymphoma. The day after Eliot was gone, Nikki was admitted to a large university veterinary hospital, one of the best in the United States.

It was a rollercoaster, and he almost died. You can imagine I was stressed, not only with grief about Eliot but also the worry and cost of caring for Nikki. And even though I work from home—which makes things easier in many ways—I had a huge editing project in progress, and I had to focus.

Stress makes anger much more difficult to control.

Enter the vet. Or one of them from the hospital’s oncology team. I’m going to be nice and just say that she was pushing my buttons left and right.

Even though I’m tolerant, patient, and understanding in almost any situation, I didn’t have a lot left to give at this point. I got angry, over and over again. The things she did were right out of a book on communication and what not to do:

• Condescension
• Derailing (changing the subject mid-stream before finished)
• Frequent interruptions (I couldn’t get a word in edgewise in many cases)
• Sarcasm
• Frequent sharp, negative responses to my positive comments about some aspects of Nikki’s overall poor condition
• Sudden personal compliments (about my scarf, for example) that were out of place in the discussion and only served to change the subject and get me confused
• Big smiles that didn’t reach her eyes at odd times
• Assumptions: it was clear that she assumed I’m an inexperienced, neglectful pet owner (some of her questions reflected this)

I wasn’t getting angry on the spot, but I was getting confused.

She talked way too fast for me–I wasn’t interested in anything other than calm, professional discussion so I expected nothing else–and it wasn’t until I got home or hung up the phone and sorted things out that I realized she was walking all over me, busting through my boundaries, and treating me in ways that are unacceptable to me.

Sometimes I wish I were the type who has a quick come-back for anything, in any situation, but I’m not. I’m not aggressive like that; I prefer dialogue over competition. The retorts came to me later on, though, and my head was filled to bursting every night with all the smart-aleck, mean things I could say to her, tit for tat.

But that wasn’t going to help, and I didn’t want those thoughts in my head anyway. I wanted to think about my cat. Plus, my stomach was getting tied up in knots.

I had to do something, and I thought about it constantly.

When she told me I had no choice but to euthanize I burst into tears. When I told her I’m against euthanasia except in extreme cases, she snapped, “Lots of people are against euthanasia.” I got pissed off, and the tears were gone. What was I supposed to do with that statement? It was ridiculous. Determination and my level-headed sanity kicked into gear. I told her I needed twenty-four hours to think about it; I can’t make a decision like that on the spot while the animal in question isn’t in any particular pain and isn’t suffering.

She sniffed and said we’d have to put him in ICU if I didn’t want to euthanize, which would cost a lot. That pissed me off some more: why wasn’t he in ICU in the first place? I had an hour to wait for lab work to be completed and to give her my decision.

The anger was boiling as I walked around outside the hospital.

I could barely see straight. Mentally, I searched everywhere for an answer. What to do, what to do. How to deal with her calmly without getting totally pissed off and saying something I’d regret….

Suddenly, I remembered the grief counselor I had chatted with on the phone a week ago, the day after my other cat died. It’s a free service the hospital offers to pet owners who have lost a pet or are dealing with a terminal illness. She was a great empathetic listener with good insights, she herself has a dog with lymphoma, and she knew I was in a tough spot. Plus, as a mental health professional, I knew she wouldn’t take sides or try to influence my decision-making process or my beliefs. I called her, and within a few minutes I was back in the hospital pouring out the story as she listened.

Since I’ve dealt with anger many times before, I didn’t focus on that emotion very much.

I didn’t want to feed it; I wanted to let it go and instead nurture empathy, compassion, understanding, and an ability to think clearly. As each feeling or reaction to various events and situations came to me, I explained it to her. Then I told her what I wanted to feel instead or what I wanted to do.

Here are the highlights of what I talked about and how I turned anger into calm, focused, and confident determination and decision-making.

• It’s not about me; this vet is like this with anyone
• I can choose to feel empathy; she definitely seems stressed and overworked
• Let it go and don’t focus on the vet or the things she says that upset me because that will only feed the anger
• I can’t change anyone but myself
• How do I want to change myself?
• Let go of this anger and think in terms of decisions and calm actions and what I need from the vet for my cat’s sake
• Don’t react to the anger even if I’m feeling it
• Don’t respond to her attitude or make any smart remark in return because that won’t get me anywhere
• My beliefs should be respected and, even if the vet is wrong to pressure me with euthanasia, it’s not about me
• He’s going to ICU and I’ll figure out how to pay later

With that, my head was clear and so was my mission. When I spoke with the vet, I confidently told her to go all out, get my cat in ICU, and we’ll hope for a miracle.

I ignored the look on her face that told me she didn’t believe in miracles.

All’s well that ends well. My cat made a recovery that astounded her, and he’s home now. She went on vacation the day before Nikki came home, so I’ve been dealing with a different vet who is as pleasant as can be. His checkup a few days later showed a remarkable improvement–his bloodwork was almost normal–and he’s almost completely himself. The bill got paid, and not once did I lose my cool. Some mistakes were made that delayed treatment, and I could still get angry about that—my cat should have been in ICU in the first place, for example—but I’ve let it go. It’s done.

I’ve gone through a similar process many times to handle anger, and it’s not a big deal, in general. But this was a very long, drawn-out experience at a very difficult time. I felt like I was getting hit by bricks from every direction while feeling sad and empty inside after my other cat died.

Dealing with a difficult personality for two weeks, day after day, was challenging. But by using everything I know about dealing with anger, practicing empathy, and keeping the goal of peaceful communication in mind, I came out a winner. And so did my cat.

Have you ever been challenged to keep your cool? Do you have any tips to share? Comments are welcome.