In the last few years in my resilience work, people have been coming up to me and whispering something they feel ashamed to admit.
“Connie, I’ve been feeling angry. Really angry.”
They say it quietly, as if it’s something dark or forbidden. But I don’t see anger as a bad thing at all. I see it as a gift. A powerful, important messenger that, if we pay attention, can help us heal.
Growing Up Without Emotional Permission
I grew up in the 1980s — a time when emotions were often seen as a nuisance.
Teachers didn’t know what to do with them. Parents, doing their best, often responded with:
“Go to your room.”
“Tone it down.”
I learned early that emotions made people uncomfortable.
Crying was “too much.” Excitement was “too loud.”
And anger? Anger meant something was wrong with me.
No one ever told me that anger was normal — part of the human experience.
If we could imagine our emotions as a dashboard on a car, anger is one of those lights that comes on to say: “Something needs attention.” It’s not saying the car is broken — it’s saying, check under the hood.
How Anger Hides in Relationships
For a long time, I kept anger buried.
It wasn’t until I became a wife, a mom, and a leader that I realized how close connection can bring old emotions to the surface.
When I was alone, I seemed calm and kind.
But the closer I got to people, the more anger started to show itself.
It was as if there was a volcano beneath the surface — waiting for intimacy to bring it alive.
And when it erupted, I often didn’t recognize myself.
The truth is, anger had been quietly protecting me all along.
It was bodyguarding something much deeper — sadness, rejection, and wounds that had never been tended to.
The Night Anger Showed Up
Just recently, I planned a thank-you dinner for people who had invested in my community.
I was thrilled — I’d put thought, love, and yes, money into making it special.
Then, one by one, people began to cancel.
I could feel anger boiling up inside of me.
Where was this coming from? These were people I cared about!
So, instead of pushing the feeling away, I got curious.
And suddenly, I remembered: When I was ten years old, I threw a birthday party.
I decorated, planned games, made snacks — and no one came.
I can still see little Connie in that moment — the crushed look, the sting of rejection, the confusion of feeling unseen.
That hurt had stayed with me for decades, quietly sitting underneath the surface.
Anger wasn’t the problem that night.
It was the bodyguard for a much older wound that was asking to be healed.
When We Let Anger Speak
After that birthday, I avoided vulnerability.
Even as an adult, I used my birthday to give to others — raising money or serving in community — because generosity felt safer than risk.
But when those dinner cancellations came, I realized something:
It wasn’t about the guests at all.
It was about the little girl who still felt forgotten.
And here’s the tricky thing about anger: it loves to point the finger outward.
It wants to blame, to protect, to build a wall around the wound.
But when we pause long enough to look inward, we often discover that what we’re really feeling is pain — and that pain deserves compassion, not shame.
The Moment to Pause
Here’s something I’ve learned through neuroscience and experience:
When you’re in anger, it’s not the time to analyze.
In that moment, your brain has been hijacked by the amygdala — the fight-or-flight center. You’re not reasonable, and that’s okay.
The best thing you can do is breathe.
Don’t try to fix it. Don’t send the text. Don’t start the conversation.
Simply pause and say to yourself:
“I’m not reasonable right now. I just need a minute.”
Then, when the storm passes, get curious.
Ask: “What is anger bodyguarding right now?”
For many, it’s shame or sadness. For others, it’s a sense of powerlessness.
Whatever it is, curiosity opens the door to healing.
Rewriting the Story
Healing doesn’t mean pretending the past didn’t happen.
It means creating new experiences to rewrite the story.
That’s why I now host generosity projects every year for my birthday.
I’m creating the connection, joy, and belonging that ten-year-old Connie longed for.
That’s called rewiring.
Every time we respond differently to an old pain, our brains form new pathways — ones rooted in peace instead of protection.
The Power of Belonging
A few years ago, I had a powerful realization while sitting on my couch:
“I belong.”
Not because someone invited me.
Not because I earned it.
But simply because I exist.
That revelation changed everything.
Belonging is not something people give you — it’s something you discover within yourself.
The Work of Healing
Books like Braving the Wilderness by Brené Brown, The Anatomy of the Soul by Dr. Curt Thompson, and The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk have been incredible companions on this journey.
They’re not easy reads — sometimes they reopen the pain — but that’s part of the healing process.
Because when we face what’s inside, we stop running from it.
For years, I couldn’t handle anger — not mine, not anyone else’s.
I would shut it down in my kids or get defensive with my husband.
Now, I can sit with people in their anger and simply be there.
That’s crucial in my work with communities recovering from trauma — after fires, floods, and loss.
People need someone who won’t flinch when they feel deeply.
Someone who can hold space without absorbing it.
Your Mood Doesn’t Have to Change Mine
One of the core ideas of my Bravely Connected Method is this:
“Your mood doesn’t have to affect mine.”
That means I can hold space for your anger without taking it into my own body.
I can stay grounded and compassionate — and that is what allows true connection to happen.
Because when I’ve made peace with my own emotions, I don’t need to fix yours.
I can simply walk beside you.
Relationships as Mirrors
Our closest relationships are mirrors.
When I’m alone, I’m the most patient person in the world.
But when I’m around my family, all my rough edges show.
That’s not failure — that’s formation.
The people we love most bring us face-to-face with our unfinished parts.
They sharpen us. They humble us.
They help us grow.
That’s the true gift of connection — and the true gift of anger.
The Takeaway
Anger isn’t something to fear or suppress.
It’s a signpost pointing toward healing.
So next time anger shows up, instead of pushing it away, try whispering to it:
“What are you trying to tell me?”
You might be surprised by what you learn.
A Recap
- Anger is not bad — it’s a signal.
- It’s a bodyguard for deeper pain.
- Don’t analyze it in the moment — breathe first.
- Later, get curious and ask what’s underneath.
- Rewire through new experiences rooted in compassion.
- When you work through your own emotions, you can hold others in theirs
- Remember: you already belong.
Bravely Connected 
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