by Moshood Raji

My Journey Through Anger and the Wisdom It Left Behind

Anger has always been a teacher in my life, though for a long time, I didn’t see it that way. For years, I thought of anger as a force that controlled me, as something destructive, something I needed to suppress or fight. But over time, I began to realize that anger, when reflected upon, was not just chaos. It was also a messenger. And behind every flame of anger, if I looked closely, there was a hidden piece of wisdom waiting to be uncovered.

This memoir is not about abstract theories or neat philosophies. It’s about the raw experiences. The heated moments, the silent aftermaths, and the realizations that followed that shaped the way I see myself, others, and the world around me.

Childhood: The First Fires

My earliest memories of anger come from childhood. I grew up in an environment where emotions weren’t always given space to breathe. Like many boys, I was told to “toughen up,” “be a man,” and hide my tears. Anger became the only emotion I was allowed to express freely. Sadness or vulnerability were seen as weakness, but anger? that was acceptable.

It was strange, looking back. Anger felt like a shield I could carry when I didn’t know how else to protect myself. But at the same time, it also felt like a prison. I would flare up at small things, lose my temper easily, and then feel a hollow emptiness after the fire had burned out. I didn’t have the language to understand it then, but anger was already beginning to shape my character.

Early Adulthood: Anger as a Weapon

In my teenage years and early adulthood, anger became a weapon. It gave me energy. It gave me courage. It made me feel powerful when I felt small inside. I remember getting into heated arguments, pushing people away, or making choices just to “prove a point.”

At the time, I didn’t realize how much damage it was doing, not only to others, but also to me. Anger left scars on relationships, burned bridges that could have been repaired, and created misunderstandings that lasted years. But it also left me exhausted. There were nights when I would lie in bed replaying arguments in my mind, feeling drained and asking myself, “Why do I keep doing this?”

It took me a long time to admit that the anger wasn’t just about the people or situations around me. It was about me, my insecurities, my fears, my unhealed wounds.

The Turning Point: Anger Meets Reflection

The turning point came slowly, not as a single moment but as a series of realizations. I began to notice a strange pattern: every time I got angry, if I allowed myself to sit with the feeling afterward, I could trace it back to something deeper.

• Sometimes anger was covering fear. Like fear of being rejected, fear of being disrespected, fear of losing control.

• Sometimes anger was covering sadness. Sadness about things I couldn’t change, sadness about disappointments or betrayals.

• And sometimes anger was simply about pride. My ego refusing to let go, refusing to be humbled.

One of the biggest lessons I learned was that anger was never the real problem. Anger was just the smoke. The fire was always something underneath.

Wisdom in the Ashes

With time, I started seeing anger less as an enemy and more as a teacher. The wisdom that anger left behind was subtle but powerful.

• Anger showed me what I cared about.

• I realized that I only got angry about things that mattered to me. Whether it was respect, love, justice, or honesty, anger pointed to the values I held deep inside. Instead of just fighting the anger, I began asking, “What is this anger trying to protect?”

• Anger taught me humility.

• The aftermath of anger often brought regret. And in those moments of regret, I learned humility the courage to apologize, to admit I was wrong, to acknowledge that I wasn’t always in control.

• Anger showed me the limits of force.

• No matter how strong my anger was, it rarely solved anything. At best, it silenced people temporarily. At worst, it created more chaos. Wisdom came when I realized that true power is not in dominating others, but in mastering myself.

• Anger helped me grow spiritually.

• On a deeper level, I began to see anger as a test. Life was asking me, “Can you hold the fire without letting it consume you? Can you find clarity in the storm?” Each time I succeeded, even just once out of ten, I felt a small spark of wisdom taking root in me.

Anger, Synchronicities, and Life’s Strange Lessons

As I grew more reflective, I started noticing synchronicities. Strange coincidences that seemed to mirror my inner state. On days when I was boiling inside, the world seemed to throw more chaos at me. On days when I found peace, I noticed harmony around me.

It was as if anger was not just an inner battle but also a force that shaped my reality. This realization was both humbling and empowering. Humbling, because I saw how much my inner state affected others. Empowering, because I realized I had the ability to change the script by choosing wisdom over rage, calm over chaos.

Where I Stand Today

I would be lying if I said I no longer get angry. I still do. Anger is human. But today, I approach it differently. When it rises, I take a breath. I pause. I ask myself:

• What is this anger trying to tell me?

• What wound is it pointing to?

• What wisdom is hidden inside it?

I’ve learned that anger doesn’t disappear, but it transforms. And when it transforms, it becomes clarity. It becomes boundaries. It becomes self-respect.

The wisdom I carry now is simple: anger is not the enemy. Ignorance of anger is. When I listen to it, when I respect it without letting it rule me, it becomes a guide instead of a prison.

Closing Reflections

Looking back on my life, I see anger as a thread woven through every stage of my journey. At first, it was raw fire, uncontrolled, destructive. Later, it became a mirror, reflecting my inner fears and pains. And finally, it became a teacher, showing me patience, humility, and self-mastery.

The path was not easy. I burned bridges, hurt people I cared about, and wrestled with myself more times than I can count. But from those flames, wisdom emerged. Wisdom that I could not have found in books, but only in lived experience.

And that, I think, is the paradox of anger: it is both the wound and the healer, the storm and the lesson. In learning to face it, I found not only my flaws but also my strengths. And that strength, tempered with wisdom, is what I carry with me now, into every choice, every relationship, and every step of this strange, beautiful journey of life.