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 "I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief."

By Anupama Joshi.

This quote, though often misattributed to C.S. Lewis, carries a truth many of us live but never voice.

As a child, I was known for my temper, it didn’t take much to spark a reaction in me. The anger was a mask, a cry, a plea for acknowledgement. It wasn’t just rebellion, it was a reaching out for love, acknowledgement and safety. It wasn’t rooted in one big traumatic event it was a thousand small moments of being ignored, being sidelined. My straightforward nature and unfiltered honesty often intimidated others, leading to misunderstandings and strained relationships. People found me too blunt, too direct, too intense. I didn’t know how to sugarcoat the truth - still don’t, honestly.

Over the years, life taught me to smooth those rough edges. Through experiences, wisdom, and personal growth, I began to understand that beneath my anger lay a reservoir of hurt and unaddressed grief. Even now, when I withdraw or disconnect; often because I am hurting, overwhelmed, or simply protecting my energy, the people in my life assume I am angry. Very few stop to consider that my silence might be coming from pain, not rage. It is disheartening when those who are close to you focus solely on reactions, overlooking their own actions or words that may have caused them. 

And the part that stings the most is that when I do the work to process everything to bring myself back to a place of calm and grounding, they mock. They pass it off by saying, “Oh look, she has calmed down now,” Like it is an entertaining performance, like the work it took to come back to myself is invisible. Like it was never about grief, or healing, or layers of hurt they never cared to understand. As if my process was a tantrum, not a transformation; and as if healing is something funny.

Anger is never the full story. It is the lid. And when you’re brave enough to lift it, you find unacknowledged grief, disappointment, fear, and truth. And to know this is to begin the real work. It is a reminder to approach others with empathy, recognizing that behind a fiery exterior might be a wounded soul seeking understanding. If you have ever been told you are too much - too loud, too angry, too emotional; I just want you to know, I see the grief behind the fire and the ache beneath the silence. Whenever you are ready to be seen beyond the fire, I am here.