You Are Not Your Anger (Or Any Other Feeling)
Yesterday, something happened that made me really angry.
The what doesn’t matter. What matters is what happened next.
As soon as it happened, I felt it in my body—like someone had popped a shaken can of Dr Pepper in my chest. (Yes, it was a Dr Pepper Zero. Yes, I’m obsessed. Let’s move on.)
My belly and chest tightened. My throat felt like the fizz coming out of a can that you opened after you forgot that you dropped it on the floor 20 minutes ago. I wanted to cry—not because I was sad, but because it felt like the pressure valve needed a release. But I couldn’t.
So I sat with it. I didn’t push it down which would have been my go to 6 months ago, I didn't try to reframe it. I just noticed it.
And like magic—it passed.
Five minutes later, the thought came back, and so did the feeling. It was a bit less intense this time but still there. So I did the same thing. Now with the added frustration of “it is very inconvenient that I have to pause in this moment to witness my emotions, I have work to do” thought in my head.
A bit later, Harley wanted a cuddle (he is a spaniel, they need one about every half hour or so) so I stroked him with one hand, typed with the other and I remembered the thing again. Here we go, just like a roller coaster the feeling came back. Same memory. Same surge.
This time, I laughed a little. I caught the loop. And because I’d practiced noticing it without clinging to it, it started to feel lighter. More background music than full-blown siren.
The Stacked Boats Moment
It got to the end of the day and a bit of bts, I do what I call ‘school’ for the boys before we go for our last walk of the day. It's 5 to 10 minutes of trick or obedience training that just gets their brains working in a different way than when we are out for a walk.
It's also the foundation of a lot of the stuff we do in real life, like bring me things they have found, staying in a sit while I throw treats about the place, jumping up onto a surface to avoid bikes or other dogs or rolling onto their backs so I can look at their feet, but don’t tell them, they think they are getting ready to go on Britain’s Got Talent.
So yesterday we were playing a game I have nattily titled 'stack the boat'. It’s a baby's bath stacking toy where they build a tower of boats. This has no application in real life that I can think of but it is hard for them and fun for all of us.
Full disclosure. I looked for ways to not do it yesterday.
I felt drained and like I had nothing to give.
But my boys are important and I did not want this incident to ruin a lovely experience with my fur babies.
In that moment it hit me. I wasn’t angry. Yes I felt angry when I thought of that thing but I wasn’t angry.
In neuroscience, we call this disidentification from emotion, and like many concepts that I have studied and understood intellectually, I realised in that moment that I hadn’t really got it until now.
“So self,” I thought, “you don’t feel angry about doing school… so what do you feel?” I went deeper, I realised I felt relaxed about going on our walk, I realised I was beginning to feel hungry for my tea, I felt excited about listening to my podcast (No Such Thing as a Fish yesterday, comedy and fun fact gold).
And just like that, I remembered I could feel angry and other things at the same time.
The anger didn’t vanish—but it softened. It was no longer the main melody. Just the beat beneath the mix.
How did I get here?
Somatic practices teach us to not only tune in to the messages our bodies are telling us, they also bring us into the present moment. A practice such as counting the number of shades of green you can see during a walk takes you out of your thought spiral. A practice of counting your breaths 1-5 then over again keeps you focused on now and not what is worrying you. They give your brain the pause between thought and action—like traditional meditation, but with motion.
One part of the story that I should have mentioned is that when the anger came, I didn't furiously type out a crazy, regrettable message, nor did I get on the phone and start screaming, nor did I shout at the pups. Using these practices and practicing them when I don't need them meant that in the moment I did, I could find my way to the place that I felt more than just rage and I could act rationally (in this case, setting the issue to the side).
So What Does This Mean for You?
Whether you’re annoyed in traffic, overwhelmed by your to-do list, or furious about that email—try this:
-
Change the script.
Instead of “I am angry,” try:
“I feel angry—and I also feel...” -
Zoom out.
What else is happening in your body? What else is going on in your life in that moment and how do you feel about that? Can you feel curious? Calm? Playful? Annoyed about something else entirely? -
Practice it in neutral moments.
Like at the gym:
You can feel nervous about a heavy lift, excited to chat with a friend, and tired from last night—all at the same time.
Multidimensional. Like the queen you are.
Feelings are waves.
You don’t have to ride every single one into the shore.
Some, you can just let pass—and marvel at how many you’re surfing at once.
✨ Let me know how it lands. I’d love to hear what shows up for you.