When the Anger Hits: What’s Really Going On Beneath the Surface
The other night at basketball, I lost it.
Not in a “threw a chair and stormed off” kind of way — but in the quieter, more adult version of losing it. You know, the one where you stew in silence, mutter things under your breath, maybe even snap at a teammate.
My shots weren’t landing, I was playing sloppy defense, and worst of all, I knew better. I knew what I should’ve done differently, but that only made me angrier.
By the end of the game, I was exhausted — not from running, but from fighting myself. I wanted to throw the ball, curse the rim, and crawl into my hoodie.
What Anger Really Is
Anger is one of those emotions that feels like it’s about everyone else — the ref, the teammate, the traffic, the world. But if we pause long enough, we usually realize something uncomfortable: it’s rarely about them.
Anger is often a bodyguard for more vulnerable feelings — embarrassment, fear, shame, disappointment. It steps in when we feel exposed. It says, “I’ll take it from here,” and suddenly our body is flooded with adrenaline, our heart rate spikes, and logic takes a back seat.
It’s biology, not badness.
When we feel threatened (even emotionally), the amygdala in our brain activates our fight-or-flight system. Cortisol and adrenaline rush in. Muscles tense. Breathing shortens. It’s not evil — it’s protective. The problem is, sometimes that protection kicks in when we just missed a layup.
How to Catch It Before It Catches You
Breathe like you mean it.
Not the fake “I took a deep breath” kind. The real kind — in through your nose, out through your mouth, until your shoulders actually drop. Breathing tells your body the danger has passed.
Take space.
Literally move. Step off the court. Walk around the block. Wash your hands in cold water. Give your body a chance to cool before your brain comes back online.
Ask, “What am I really mad about?”
Spoiler: it’s usually not the missed shot or the bad pass. It’s the story underneath — “I should be better,” “I hate letting people down,” or “I don’t like feeling out of control.” Once you name that story, the anger loses its grip.
Talk to yourself like a teammate.
After my meltdown, I realized I’d been saying things to myself I’d never say to anyone else. “You’re terrible.” “You’re embarrassing.” Imagine if I said that to someone on my team. They’d walk off the court. So why do we think it’s okay to talk that way to ourselves?
Turning Anger Into Insight
Anger isn’t something to erase; it’s something to understand. It’s our mind’s way of saying, “Hey — something hurts.”
When we learn to listen instead of explode, we get to find out what hurts, and why.
That night, after cooling down, I realized I wasn’t angry about the game at all. I was angry because I cared. I wanted to play well. I wanted to feel competent. And when I didn’t, I turned that care into criticism.
Next week, I’ll probably still miss shots. I’ll probably still get frustrated. But I’m hoping I’ll breathe a little sooner, talk to myself a little kinder, and remember — the goal isn’t to be perfect. It’s to stay curious, even when you’re mad.
Your Challenge This Week
Next time you feel your temperature rising — whether it’s in traffic, at work, or on the court — try this three-step reset:
Pause and breathe. Feel your feet on the ground.
Name what’s really under it. Is it frustration, fear, embarrassment, or pressure?
Choose curiosity over criticism. Ask yourself, “What is this moment trying to teach me?”
You might still feel mad — that’s okay. The goal isn’t to erase anger; it’s to turn it into awareness.
Because every flare-up is really just a reminder: you care deeply.
And that’s not something to be ashamed of.
