There’s this image of me as a boy that I can’t shake. He’s sitting alone, knees pulled up to his chest, drawing lines in the dirt with a stick. His face is calm, but his chest feels tight. His throat burns with words he doesn’t know how to say. He thinks he’s just lonely. But now, looking back, I know better.

He wasn’t just lonely. He was pissed.

Pissed that the world didn’t feel safe. Pissed that he couldn’t say what he needed to say. Pissed that he had to carry so much weight—weight that wasn’t his to carry. He didn’t have the words for it then, but I see it now. That boy was angry, and he had every right to be.

But here’s the thing: he didn’t know what to do with that anger. So he buried it. He told himself it was just loneliness. He told himself to be quiet, to be good, to not make waves. And that anger? It didn’t go away. It stayed with him, simmering beneath the surface, shaping how he saw himself and the world.

Honoring the Boy I Was

I think about that boy a lot these days. I think about how hard he tried to hold it all together. How he thought he had to be strong by staying silent. How he thought his anger made him bad, or weak, or unworthy of love.

I honor him. I honor his struggle. I honor his resilience. I honor the way he kept going, even when it felt like no one saw him. Because that boy? He’s still with me. He’s a part of me. And he deserves to be seen, to be heard, to be loved—not just by others, but by me.

How He’s With Me Now

So I sit with him. I imagine myself walking up to him, sitting down beside him on, and saying, “I see you. I know you’re hurting. And it’s okay to feel this way. You’re not alone anymore. I’m here.”

And in that moment, I’m reminded of Psalm 34:18: “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” That boy didn’t know it then, but God was with him. And He’s with me now, too.

I now know something important: anger isn’t the enemy. It’s a signal. It’s a sign that something isn’t right, that something needs to change. And when we ignore it, when we bury it, it doesn’t go away. It just finds other ways to show up—in our relationships, in our work, in the way we see ourselves.

But when we honor it—when we give it space to be seen and understood—it can become a source of strength. It can become a catalyst for growth, for healing, for change.

That boy reminds me to pay attention to my emotions, even the uncomfortable ones. He reminds me to ask, “What is this anger trying to tell me? What needs to be healed, or changed, or let go of?” And he reminds me that I don’t have to carry it all alone anymore.

Taking Healthy Action

So what do we do with that anger? How do we honor it without letting it control us? Here’s what I’ve learned:

1. Acknowledge It. The first step is simply naming it. “I’m angry.” Not “I’m fine” or “It’s no big deal.” Just the truth: “I’m angry.” There’s power in that.
2. Sit With It. Instead of pushing it away, take a moment to sit with it. Ask yourself, “What’s underneath this anger? What’s the story I’m telling myself? What’s the need that wasn’t met? What longing has gone unnoticed?”
3. Express It. Find a healthy way to let it out. Write it down. Talk to someone you trust. Go for a run. Scream into a pillow if you need to. Just don’t let it fester.
4. Take Responsibility. Anger is a signal, but it’s not an excuse. It’s up to us to decide how we respond. Ask yourself, “What would my highest self do in this situation? How can I use this anger to create something positive?”
5. Heal the Wound. Anger often points to a deeper wound—something that needs to be acknowledged and healed. That might mean having a hard conversation, setting a boundary, or seeking support from a therapist or coach. And through it all, remember the promise of Isaiah 41:10: “So do not fear, for I am with you, do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

The Freedom to Feel

If there’s one thing I want you to take away from this, it’s this: your emotions are valid. Your anger is valid. And you have the power to honor it, to learn from it, and to transform it into something beautiful.

And that boy drawing in the sand? He’s still with me. And every time I honor my anger, every time I choose to respond with grace and courage, I honor him too. I show him that it’s okay to feel. That it’s okay to speak up. That it’s okay to take up space.

And you know what? That’s freedom. That’s healing. That’s power.