How I Figured Out I Am Suppressing Anger

When I first moved in with my roommate, I noticed the apartment being a lot dirtier than I would have liked it to be. It wasn’t disastrous, but I like things clean and tidy. And that’s not what it was.

I considered telling him that. But the thought of it made me uncomfortable. I didn’t want to start us off on the wrong foot. I didn’t want our first interactions to be me looking around judging and proclaiming, “THIS WILL NOT DO!”

After all, I was going to have to live with this guy for quite a while.

So, I pretended to care less than I did. I cleaned some parts myself. And I guess I hoped that he would kind of sense where I wanted to go. And that he would then start cleaning up too.

Which didn’t happen.

So, the next step of my battle plan was put into action: I started telling him in a “joking” way how I would enjoy it if things were cleaner. Naturally, he responded in the same lighthearted manner, “Haha, yeah, that would be nice… Anyway, I was watching this show last night…” He didn’t take much notice. And why would he? I was just joking around.

So, again, things didn’t really change.

At this point, I had been avoiding confrontation for quite a while. Confrontation might be an exaggeration. I just mean: calmly voicing my concerns. Which to me felt like a battle.

So, I continued to not bring it up. And I continued to get more frustrated.

It was one of those things where the longer you wait, the more awkward it gets. So, you tell yourself: next time. Ignoring the fact that it will be even harder then.

I felt like I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Things kept bugging me, and my ability to speak up diminished with every time I decided to not say something.

So, what did I do? Nothing. I kept pretending things were fine. And I kept pushing down the anger I felt. I was in big denial.

I also started avoiding him. Because I didn’t want to smile when I was actually angry. But I also didn’t want him seeing me mad. For then, he might ask, “Bro, you alright?” And I’d either have to lie and say, “Yes, everything is fine,” or I’d have to admit that I’m pissed off and that I have been for a long time. And I didn’t want to do either of those things.

After trying to push away my frustration for a while, I noticed it surfacing in different ways: I would become annoyed more quickly. Also, things started bugging me that hadn’t bugged me before. And I started resenting him. For example, when he’d tell me that he’d had a bad day at work, I felt less sympathy for him than I had before.

So, after a while, I started speaking up. I didn’t immediately explode, but I became a bit more honest. When he asked my advice about something, I told him what I thought. Which was a little harsher than what I usually told him. Usually, I’d sugarcoat things quite heavily.

This helped me feel a little more at ease.

Interestingly enough, around that time I read a bit about something called “Schema Therapy.” And I recognized myself in one of the schemas. It’s called “Emotional Inhibition,” and it describes people who think that expressing emotions, especially anger, is not okay. These people believe that if they do express their emotions, they will either hurt people by it, embarrass themselves, people will leave them, or they will be exposed to retribution.

And even though I had never thought of myself as someone who is emotionally inhabitant, I recognized myself in that schema.

Especially for emotions like anger. I feel like showing anger is bad. Like it is “not done” to let oneself become angry. That somehow it means that you “lack strength” if you get frustrated. That if you did things right, that things “couldn’t get to you.”

Once I realized that, things made a lot more sense. In fact, I could name a bunch of situations where I felt uncomfortable. And I had never really been able to figure out why. But now I can see that they share a very similar pattern:

Something small annoyed me. I chose to not say anything because I didn’t want to make a thing about it. A little later, something else, a little bigger this time, came up. Again, I let it slide. “I can take it. I can handle it.” And just like that, I would fall into a routine. One where I trained myself to not say anything if something annoyed me.

Which then would create a very uncomfortable dynamic for me.

But I had never thought that it was because I was afraid of voicing my frustration. When I tried to analyze the situation, I would usually get stuck in a loop of, “I should have said something! But how can I do that without confronting him? But it bugged me; I should have spoken up! Of course, but without you expressing anger or frustration!”

Unsurprisingly, I could never figure that cycle out.

Which is the same cycle that troubled me so much with my roommate. How can I voice my frustration if I believe that it is somehow wrong of me to get frustrated?

I can’t. Because the notion that I shouldn’t get frustrated is wrong. The question is how I address it.

Saying, “Listen, this feels frustrating to me. I know that’s not what you intended to do. But maybe we can figure out a solution that works for the both of us.” That is a lot better than ignoring my emotions and resenting the other person for causing them. Especially because I haven’t even told the other person that they are causing them.