Anger’s greatest trick is making you think you’re standing up for yourself, that you’re finally taking control. It tells you that your outburst is justified, that your righteous fury is not only warranted but essential. It whispers in your ear: “You’re not being unreasonable. You’re being assertive.”
But you’re not. You’re a grown person screaming at a parking meter. You look like a constipated gorilla trying to pass a watermelon. People are crossing the street to avoid you.
And let’s not forget the most ridiculous part: anger is completely self-destructive. It’s basically the universe’s way of handing you a rubber mallet and saying, “Here, keep hitting yourself with this. It’ll totally fix everything.”
It’s silly. And we all reach a point where we know it’s silly. You’ve stared in the mirror and thought, “Why do I always look like I’m auditioning for a role in a Scorsese film?”
So what do we do about it? Who has the answers?
I nominate Seneca. Yeah, the ancient Roman philosopher. His name may sound like a brand of toothpaste, but he had some deep insights into anger. And undoubtedly some of those came about because his life gave him good reasons to be angry…
Let’s set the scene: it’s 41 AD, and Seneca, Mr. Big Brain Philosopher, has just been handed a one-way ticket to Exile Island by Emperor Claudius. He got accused of having an affair with Julia Livilla, the emperor’s niece, which, let’s be honest, is the most soap-opera reason to ruin someone’s life.
But Seneca was totally innocent. Didn’t do it. You can bet I’d be furious.
So they ship Seneca off to Corsica. Not a sandy beach paradise, but a rock with some goats, a lot of wind, and zero wine bars. I mean, if ever there was a time to lose your temper, it’s when you’ve been exiled to the ancient Roman equivalent of a Motel 6 parking lot. Anger? Totally justified.
But he doesn’t get angry. What does he do? Something great for us — he wrote a book.
One that can really help us. (I mean, if anyone knows how to stay chill, it’s probably a dude who’s lived through exile and multiple emperors with a murder habit.)
Okay, let’s get to it…
Accept There Will Be Challenges
A lot of anger is about expectations. Example: a traffic jam. You’re clenching your fists. Laying on the horn like you’re scoring a Hans Zimmer soundtrack. Blood pressure rising. You’re about to go full Liam Neeson in Taken over two extra red lights.
But you know what? Traffic is quite common. So do you say, “You know what? This is normal. I should have expected it. My bad.”
Heck, no. We walk around with our unrealistic expectations like we’re the kings and queens of our own personal fiefdoms, expecting that the universe will fulfill our every whim.
Now imagine if you had no expectations. None. You wake up every day assuming that the power is out, the milk is spoiled, and every road you need is blocked by a wandering herd of sheep. Then things wouldn’t bother you.
And when something goes right, when that toaster actually toasts, it’s a Vatican-approved miracle. You’d be walking around like someone in a pharmaceutical commercial, smiling and dancing in a sun-drenched meadow, because the bus showed up vaguely on time.
See? Expectations.
In fact, dig a little deeper and you see that anger is about entitlement. You find out they’re out of your favorite deodorant, and you’re ready to start a Change.org petition against Walgreens. Ask yourself one question: “Does this universe owe me this?”
If you didn’t feel you were always entitled to get what you want, you’d never get angry at all. You’d just shrug and think, “Yep, this is about right,” and move on with your day.
But we have unrealistic expectations. We’re entitled. And we’re convinced that if we don’t express our fury, the universe will never learn that we’re right, and it is, in fact, wrong.
The universe doesn’t care. It’s not in the business of catering to your whims. It’s busy exploding stars and shifting tectonic plates. It’s got its hands full. But we still walk around expecting a life that is custom-tailored to our desires and with a magic button labeled “TO SUMMON JUSTICE – PRESS GENTLY.”
What should we do?
Seneca says, “You should assume that there are many things ahead you will have to suffer.” This isn’t some Ancient Roman Eeyore prescription for life. It’s not pessimism; it’s realism. If you have unrealistic expectations, you’re going to get frustrated a lot. If you feel entitled to ease, life is going to be very uneasy.
Some days the world is an absolute carnival of stupidity; an endless conveyor belt of petty humiliations. The neighbor who plays “Sweet Caroline” at full blast at three in the morning. The person who uses the phrase “per my last email” like they’re firing a shot across the bow of the HMS Get Your Act Together.
These things happen. Have realistic expectations. Lose the entitlement.
Basically, prepare yourself mentally for the fact that someone, somewhere, is going to be a complete moron. It’s normal. Accept it and you’ll be far less angry.
Now that does take a little bit of advance prep and mental moving of some furniture. But what should we do in the moment when anger hits?
Broaden Your Perspective
Perspective. It’s powerful. Next time anger rises look at your life from a wider angle and realize that maybe — just maybe — your problems aren’t that big of a deal. Zoom out, like you’re Google Earthing your own existence, and suddenly your epic saga of suffering becomes a tiny dot on a very large map.
Imagine you’re explaining your “problems” to someone from the 1800’s. “Oh no, I can’t instantly download a video of a cat playing the piano from the magical web of information that’s beamed into my home through invisible waves. Woe is me!” Meanwhile, they’re staring at you like, “I just spent 16 hours sewing a single shirt by hand, and I buried my last three children because of dysentery, so… yeah, sure, let’s talk more about your Wi-Fi.”
Suddenly, being mildly inconvenienced starts to look a lot less like the end of the world.
Seneca says, “Your anger is a kind of madness, because you set a high price on worthless things.”
So often we’re approaching minor-stroke-territory over stuff that we absolutely know won’t matter in 10 minutes. And for what? So you can prove that you’re right about the dishwasher being loaded incorrectly? (Note: plates should face inward. Obviously.) These are not exactly meaningful moments in the human experience, but we react like we’re in the middle of an epic battle for the fate of Middle Earth.
Seneca says, “We will ensure that we not become angry if we put before our eyes all the vices anger gives rise to and take good measure of them.”
Think about all the times anger has made things worse. Go ahead, do a little mental montage.
The vast, vast majority of the time, anger doesn’t solve problems; it just adds more toppings to the pizza of chaos. You write a novel-length text that starts with, “First of all, let me just say…” And then you stab send… and immediately wish you had access to a time machine. You’re the one harmed by your anger.
So what should we do?
Seneca recounts the time someone hit Socrates over the head. Socrates’ response? Not anger…
“It’s annoying how one doesn’t know when to go out wearing a helmet.”
Socrates, you absolute legend. It wasn’t a big deal and Socrates didn’t treat it like one.
Seneca says the best response is to “Draw further back and laugh.” If something isn’t serious in the big picture, don’t take it so seriously. Put it in perspective. See the comedy in the situation.
Suddenly, anger’s a game to you — and you’re winning by not playing.
But what about those moments when you can’t broaden your perspective? Something happens and you immediately tense up like you’re in a prison yard. Your jaw tightens, and you start rehearsing the kind of profanity-laden speech that would make Samuel L. Jackson sound like Mr. Rogers…
What then?
Delay
Seneca says the first step is to notice your anger rising. We need to get ahead of this monster before it grabs the wheel:
“It’s easier to shut out harmful things than to govern them, easier to deny them entry than to moderate them once they have entered. Once they’ve established residence, they become more powerful than their overseer and do not accept retrenchment or abatement.”
This can be tricky. But why? Because Anger feels great at first. The adrenaline, that self-righteousness rush that makes you feel like the star of your own action movie.
But if you let anger in, even a little bit, it’s going to start redecorating, and trust me, you’re not going to like what it does with the place. And the worst part? You subscribed to this channel. You hit the button. You even clicked the bell for notifications. It will be your fault.
Stopping it is hard — so the trick is to just delay. Don’t wrestle with the anger. Tell yourself you’re going to wait – and then, if you still want to, you can go all “HOW DARE YOU INSULT MY HONOR, SIR!”
Seneca says, “Delay is the greatest remedy for anger.” Because anger usually doesn’t last.
You’re about to launch an invective that would peel the paint off their car, but instead, you give it a moment. You wait. You breathe. Maybe, just maybe, they have a reason. Or maybe you can use the break to get some big picture perspective. Just. Wait. A. Minute.
And then ask yourself, “Do I want to be in control? Or do I want to be the idiot shaking a printer while my coworkers film me for TikTok?”
Tell yourself you will get angry later… knowing full well that by “later,” you’ll probably have completely forgotten what you were so upset about.
Okay, we’ve covered a lot. Let’s round it all up and learn the final tip. And it’s one that not only reduces anger – it might also make you a better person…
Sum Up
Here’s how to defeat anger…
- Accept There Will Be Challenges: Let’s pretend, for a minute, that we’re capable of maturity. Are your expectations realistic? Are you assuming the universe is obligated to run interference for your happiness?
- Broaden Your Perspective: Ask yourself, “In the big scheme of things, does this really matter? Will it matter tomorrow or in a year?” Those questions will keep your flamethrower fantasies to a minimum.
- Delay: Yes, procrastination can lead to emotional control. Seneca said delay was “the greatest remedy for anger.” And I’m sure it’s exactly what he’d utilize after getting cut off by a chariot on the Appian Way.
Seneca said, “There is no proof of greatness so sure as when nothing that can occur can provoke you.”
But, man, other people can be awfully good at provoking us. So did he have any thoughts about when folks drive you crazy?
“All of us are imprudent and thoughtless,” he said. And that resonates because, yes, Seneca, I have been to a theme park on a Saturday.
“All are unstable, contentious, ambitious…” Wow, it’s like he’s scrolling through my Twitter feed.
The point he’s getting at here is all of us are like that at times. All. Including you and me.
Seneca says a powerful phrase to remember before getting angry over what others do is:
“I’ve done this myself also.”
Next time someone does something that makes your skin itch with rage, pause and ask yourself, “Have I ever done something this rude?” The answer is probably a resounding yes. Recognize yourself in these moments, and instead of reaching for your inner moral pitchfork, give a wry smile, shake your head, and think, “Yeah, I’ve been there too.”
“Let’s be kinder to one another; we’re just wicked people living among wicked people. Only one thing can give us peace, and that’s a pact of mutual leniency.”
Seneca’s grand idea is that we should look at each other with a sort of cosmic shrug: “You’re a bit of a disaster. I’m a bit of a disaster. Let’s not turn every minor spat into the Battle of Thermopylae.”
It’s easy to get mad at people when they’re blatantly wrong—so wrong it’s like they’ve reinvented the concept of stupidity. But the trick is to remember that at some point, you’ve probably been that idiot too. Yes, you. Don’t act surprised. You’ve made the same mistakes, maybe in a different flavor, but just as dumb and just as worthy of someone’s fury.
It’s humbling. But freeing. None of us is perfect. But we can try to be better.
In fact, we can try to be more like Seneca. Exiled to Corsica for a crime he didn’t commit? Didn’t get angry. And before that, Seneca had the unenviable job of basically being Nero’s life coach—a gig that’s like being a firefighter in a volcano. Didn’t get angry.
And if a guy whose boss was literally a homicidal maniac could advocate for mutual leniency, hey, maybe you can forgive a few dirty dishes in the sink.