Anger, left to sit, thickens. It's like a sauce left on the stove too long—what was once fluid and easy to manage hardens, becomes sticky, bitter even. And just like that sauce, our anger—when not attended to—grows more difficult to stir, more challenging to resolve. When it simmers unchecked, it starts to warp everything around it.
It doesn’t stay in one place either. The moment we leave it unattended, it starts spilling over into our relationships, conversations, perceptions—turning what might have been minor annoyances into major grievances. And the thing about anger is that it’s not just about the initial hurt or frustration. It becomes a lens through which we begin to view the world. That snide remark from a friend? A deep betrayal. A slight inconvenience? A personal attack. Everything gets magnified because we haven't done the work to turn the heat down on what's been boiling inside.
When anger is left to thicken, it twists our perception of reality. The people we care about start to feel like adversaries, and our own narratives become skewed. We stop hearing the words people are saying and instead, we listen to the stories we've told ourselves. Suddenly, relationships that were once fluid become strained, stiff—like trying to stir a sauce that’s burned and stuck to the pan.
And in the end, what we're left with is distance. We push others away, convinced they’ve wronged us, when often, it's the unresolved anger that's been distorting our view. Resentment grows, and what could have been a small issue now feels like an insurmountable wall between us.
But it doesn’t have to be this way. What if we acknowledged the anger early on? What if we allowed ourselves the space to feel it, reflect on it, and, importantly, release it before it becomes too thick to handle? Anger in itself isn't wrong. It’s natural, it’s human. But it’s what we do with it that counts.
By tending to our anger when it's still simmering, we give ourselves the chance to let it cool. Whether through dialogue, creativity, movement, or quiet reflection, we can process it before it becomes too overwhelming. And when we do this, we give ourselves the gift of clarity. We can see people for who they are, not through the distortion of our frustration. We can hold space for ourselves and others, allowing for connection and healing instead of division and bitterness.
When we take the time to tend to our emotions with care, we realize it’s not about avoiding anger, but managing it. Like a chef who knows just when to take the sauce off the burner, we learn that with the right attention, anger can transform into something manageable, something that doesn’t define our interactions. It’s about making sure we don’t let it solidify into resentment that’s too thick to stir.
In the end, our relationships—like that simmering sauce—are worth the effort. Worth the attention, the time, the care. Because when we tend to our emotions before they burn, we allow space for something richer, deeper, and ultimately more nourishing for everyone involved.
Words and Image by Jabali
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