The Anatomy of Anger

As a writer, one thing that has always caught my attention is the remarkable adaptability of the Brazilian Portuguese language. It is highly versatile — elastic to the point of facilitating the expression of complex thoughts and emotions in both speech and writing.

But there is one word that many people tend to avoid, either because they feel it is too strong or because they want to suggest that what they feel is not quite so intense.

Time and again, I have seen patients arrive fuming with anger over their daily struggles, yet when confronted, they deny feeling angry. They describe it as something else — indignation, frustration, irritation, annoyance, resentment — when, in reality, they are simply angry.

This is partly due to the process of rationalisation, where we seek explanations to make sense of our thoughts and emotions.

However, anger is anger. It is not healthy to ignore an emotion that exists precisely to drive adjustments in our daily lives, pushing us to tackle problems through effort. That is healthy. That is normal. It is worth noting that patience is a valuable exercise in civility, but it does not eliminate anger — it merely channels it in a more measured way.

Anger, however, is different from rage. While anger is an emotion that triggers transformation, rage is an excess often linked to heated conflicts.

It is important to recognise that well-processed anger does not lead to resentment because it has served its purpose in resolving a situation. When this resolution does not occur, resentment takes root — and then come all the adjectives and adverbs used to justify it.

One of the most curious aspects of language is how, here in Brazil, we hide behind diminutives to downplay serious issues. A little flu, a tiny ache here and there — almost as if to say it is insignificant. But this is nothing more than denial, which is unhealthy because it distorts reality beyond reason. Perhaps, I speculate, we have missed many opportunities to improve our country precisely because we refuse to acknowledge our anger — or, should I say, our little daily dose of anger.

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