The Stratagem’s Archive

Tag: addressing anger

  • Bound By Compulsion: When Anger Got the Best of Me at Work

    Rituals Aren’t the Only Things Ruled by Compulsion

    Yesterday, my anger finally spilled over at work. It started like any other Thursday — heavy freight, short-staffed, everyone tired. But when management decided to send home the coworkers who had come in on their day off earlier in the week, everything shifted.

    The only reason seemed obvious: avoid paying them overtime. Never mind that Mondays are our most understaffed days. Never mind that those people helped keep us afloat. Instead, we were left with fewer hands on one of our reasonably busier days.

    I felt frustration rising even before the afternoon sort began. My job was to push freight down the slides from the top of the conveyor belts, making sure boxes reached the right cans. For a while, things were steady. But less than an hour in, the freight started piling high. We were stacking boxes so tall we couldn’t even see our coworkers at the bottom, hoping nothing rolled down and hit them.

    What frustrated me most wasn’t just the work itself — it was watching people stand around, chatting, with no urgency as the piles grew. I could feel my anger bristle, like hackles rising.

    The Word I Couldn’t Say

    In the morning meeting, management promised we’d be done between 2:30 and 3:30 p.m. At first, it sounded reasonable. But once they announced more than a dozen people would be sent home, and once it was clear most of the part-timers weren’t showing up, I knew it was impossible.

    Still, we pressed on. I distracted myself by talking to the coworkers beside me — the ones I trust, the ones I can work alongside without losing my mind. But the slowdown at the bottom dragged everything else down, and the team lead that supervised us just stood around, watching. The only time they moved was when their friends were working. Everyone else? “Fuck you, do your job.”

    As the sky grew darker with sudden rain and the promised end time slipped further away, I lost it. My anger boiled over.

    And that’s when I realized the word I’d been circling in my first “Bound by Compulsion: The Hidden Cost of Rituals We Can’t Escape” article — the word I couldn’t name then — had been staring me in the face all along.

    That word is enough.

    I’m Never Enough

    At nearly every job I’ve had, I’ve felt like I was never enough: Not good enough, not needed enough, not smart enough, not successful enough.

    No matter how much I create — my blog, my stickers, my hoodie, my manifestos — it never silences the voice inside that says:

    You’re worthless. You’re weak. You’re pathetic. You’re never good enough.

    That’s why I don’t rest. That’s why I keep pushing. Because resting feels like proof of my worthlessness. Even when I tell myself I’ll take a break, I don’t.

    That, if I keep building up more evidence that I’m not worthless, weak, pathetic, and never good enough, maybe I could finally convince myself to believe that I am enough.

    It still has yet to happen…

    Yesterday, that weight of time marching on pressed down harder than ever, like a boot at the back of my neck. And my anger — the old familiar companion — took over.

    My Anger Wasn’t Justified

    As the clock kept ticking past the supposed end time, I watched management glare down at us from the windows above our sorting area. It felt like we were to blame for them being stuck there while we carried the load. My body was breaking down — the boxes were heavier, my strength was gone, I was getting so hungry, and I had to let more and more freight pass me by. My coworkers along the conveyor belt needed to pick up my slack frustrated me more.

    I spiraled. I said out loud I wanted to die, that all this giving and breaking ourselves down for this job left us with nothing in return. Nothing.

    And then I snapped. Not at management. Not at the people standing around. At someone I could actually call a friend. I didn’t scream at her, but my voice rose and my anger spilled out. She didn’t deserve it. It came out when she mentioned being patient, that we were almost done work, but my spirals don’t care about that.

    I had been patiently waiting for years that it felt like a burden waiting more. I wanted to die again. I mentioned this feeling in, Some Days I Don’t Want to Be Here — On Surviving When Everything Else Feels Heavy, but I struggled to keep myself in check.

    I couldn’t follow my own advice because I wanted this pain of feeling time slip by as I kept getting nothing in return for killing myself at a job that would easily replace me, if I got too out of hand or just existing, weighing down on me.

    Afterward, my friend asked if I was okay. I just shook my head, too tired to form words. She stayed patient anyway, talking to me, waiting for her Hot Cheetos delivery while I grabbed my things and left.

    I felt ashamed. I still do.

    Enough

    I don’t want anger to rule my life. But it has, for a long time. Practicing patience is hard when people disappoint me, when I disappoint myself, when nothing ever feels like enough.

    Snapping yesterday wasn’t justified. But naming what happened — naming the word that haunts me — is at least a step. Maybe the next time I feel myself bristling from things out of my control, I can pause before I snap. Maybe I can remember that I don’t have to measure my worth against impossible expectations.

    For now, though, I’m still sitting with anger, exhaustion, and the weight of not feeling enough. But at least I’ve given it words.

    Reflection

    Have you ever felt anger take over at work, only to regret how it came out later? Or felt that crushing sense of “not enough” hang over you, no matter what you’ve accomplished?

    If this piece resonates with you — even quietly — liking, subscribing, or sharing helps this little archive grow. It’s how more people in similar situations can find these words and know they’re not alone.

    Thank you for reading, whether this is your first visit or you’ve been returning in silence.

    — The Stratagem’s Archive

  • Who Am I Fighting? — Turning This Burning Sensation Into a Map

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    I Felt The Fire Burning

    I was driving to work, listening to Indila — “Ainsi Bas La Vida,” “Dernière danse” — and the music lit something I’d been holding under a lid for a long time. As I got closer to the warehouse, an image from Attack on Titan (Eren, season 4) cracked through: “Fight — (you have to) fight back.” I felt the heat move through me like an engine starting.

    Only, unlike Eren Yeager, I don’t know who I’m supposed to “fight back” against.

    This is what I want to try to name out loud, here on the page: a burning that is almost anger, but not exactly. It shows up faster now than it used to. It presses. It demands.

    It’s loud enough to shove me into action sometimes — cleaning, working harder, writing more — and quiet enough that I can’t always point a finger. I’m tired, I’m approaching thirty, and stuck between things: time, debt, a body worn out from labor, a brain tired of pretending everything is fine.

    I don’t know who the enemy is. But I know the fight is real.

    The Cost of Anger Lashing Out

    Anger and spite have been my fuel more times than I want to admit. They’ve pushed me through long shifts, exhausting weeks, and situations that should have broken me. Spite is what got me up when I didn’t want to, what kept me going when I felt invisible. For a while, it worked — I could burn that energy and turn it into movement.

    But the truth is, it’s not sustainable. It’s not healthy. And it’s not really helping me anymore. Even after breaks, I don’t feel rested. I work two jobs, give up long hours, and stay up late just to steal back some time for myself. The cost is high: sleep is thinner, my patience shorter, my fuse lit before the match even touches. I haven’t slept well in weeks, and I can feel it — the heat comes faster, the snap is sharper, and it hits harder than it used to.

    That’s the part no one talks about when they say “anger fuels you.” Fuel burns out. And when all you’ve got is fire, eventually it scorches the inside just as much as the outside.

    And yet, the more I burn, the more I realize the target isn’t always clear. The anger doesn’t just flare at one person or one moment — it spreads, looking for somewhere to land. That’s when I started asking myself if maybe the enemy I’m trying to fight isn’t a single person at all.

    Maybe the enemy isn’t a person

    When I try to name the foe, it splinters into a dozen pieces:

    The job that pays but chews me up — the work that keeps my lights on while stealing my body. The debt that counts every missed hour and turns rest into a risk. The clock — always reminding me I’m “behind,” even when I’m doing my best. The expectation that I should already have “arrived” by now. The system that reshapes our time and energy into labor and coupons for rest we can’t afford. The numbness that wants to swallow the rage and leave only weight.

    None of those are as satisfying to fight as a single person. They’re diffuse. They are walls more than enemies. They are traps you push against and, sometimes, they push back.

    The fight you’re feeling might be a compass

    If the anger is a blunt weapon, consider this: the heat can also be a map.

    When you get furious at a commute, the map points at the commute. When you snap at a manager, the map points at the conditions that made snapping feel necessary. When music makes you feel bigger and angrier, the map is telling you where something is alive inside you — something that wants different ground.

    You don’t have to find the enemy immediately. You can follow the heat like a trail of breadcrumbs. Each flash of anger is a data point about what matters to you, what hurts, and what you might want to change.

    Ways to turn the energy into movement (not punishment)

    I’m not providing a list of “fixes,” and I won’t pretend a checklist makes this simpler. Still — here are small, usable options to try when the burning shows up:

    • Name it: Give the feeling a label — “cold rage,” “restless fire,” “sharp exhaustion,” whatever fits. One word can make it less shapeless.
    • Write it fast: Five minutes of furious, unedited writing. Don’t stop for spelling. Burn the page with the heat so it has somewhere to go.
    • Small targeted strikes: Pick one tiny thing that the map points to and act — look for a different shift, call HR about a specific hazard, set one debt payment goal this month. Small actions beat diffuse fury.
    • Channel it into work that isn’t punishment: Lift, paint, code, write prompts — use the energy to build rather than to punish yourself.
    • Grounding when it spikes: 5–4–3–2–1 grounding (name 5 things you see, 4 sounds, 3 things you can touch, 2 smells, 1 breath). It doesn’t solve the problem, but it buys you space.
    • Find one person: A single witness who understands you don’t owe a polished anything. Say the heat out loud to someone who doesn’t gaslight it away.
    • Make a cheap boundary: One small refusal (I won’t work extra on Tuesdays, I’ll leave at X time, I won’t answer texts after 9pm) can start to rebuild a sense of agency.

    These are not cures, these might not always be helpful enough. Although, they are ways to move the force so it doesn’t only burn you from the inside.

    You’re not crazy for needing this energy

    There is a voice in me that wants to make this a deficit — you should be calmer, more grateful, less volatile. But we live in a system that will try to pathologize any emotion that refuses its timelines. What you feel is a human response to pressure. Naming it and moving it is survival, not failure.

    I know the tiredness that sits under the heat. I know the guilt that says you don’t have the right to be angry because you “have it good.” That’s comparative guilt, and it’s a trick. Your experience is valid even if others have worse things happening. Survival doesn’t need a ranking system.

    A small experiment

    If you’re carrying this with me now (if your chest is hot, if you feel like you need to fight but can’t point the sword), try this:

    Pause and write one sentence:

    • “Right now I am angry at ______.” Fill the blank. It can be “my shift,” “debt,” “myself,” “no name.”
    • Write one tiny next step you could take in the next 24 hours — something you can do that nudges the system you’re fighting.
    • Do it, even if it feels symbolic. Notice the difference.

    If you feel brave, leave that one-sentence in the comments — one line, no explanation. If you can’t, that’s fine too. Keep it in your pocket.

    If the heat is too much

    If you ever feel like the anger is pushing you toward hurting yourself or someone else, please reach out for help right away. If you’re in the U.S., calling or texting 988 will connect you to the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. If you’re elsewhere, please contact your local emergency services or a trusted professional. You don’t have to carry this alone.

    Whether you found this in the middle of the afternoon or at 3AM when you couldn’t sleep, I’m glad you’re here. Take a breath. Take what resonates. Leave the rest for another night.

    To the fellow archivists reading late

    If you’re awake and holding this heat, know this: your fire is not a defect. It’s a signal. It’s a raw, honest engine that can carve a path out of whatever is pressing down on you — not because you have to be violent or perfect, but because you deserve more space to be whole.

    If any of this landed, I’d invite you to reflect for a moment: what does the heat point to for you? One sentence in the comments is enough. If you’d rather keep it private, you can reply to my newsletter; sometimes a single witness is the only thing that keeps the furnace from burning you out.

    I’ve talked about this anger turning itself on me in my post, Some Days I Don’t Want to Be Here — On Surviving When Everything Else Feels Heavy

    You are still here. That is the fight and the proof.

    — Stratagem’s Archive

    Reflection on Fire

    When I first wrote this, I thought anger and spite were enough to keep me going. They did for a while, but they’ve also worn me down in ways I’m only starting to admit. I’m tired. My fuse is shorter. Even on days when I take a break, I feel like I’m still grinding myself into dust. Writing this now, I can see how much of that fire was survival, not healing.

    If you’ve carried this kind of heat too — the kind that feels like it both fuels you and eats at you — I want you to know you’re not the only one. This archive is proof of that. We don’t have to carry it alone, even if we don’t always know how to put it down yet.

    — Stratagem’s Archive

    My Brief Reflections

    All of this fire, all of this energy, it needs somewhere to go. However, with no goal, no “enemy” to fight back against, and no direction, of course it’ll attack itself. It’ll burn the host instead.

    I think the worst part of this journey is the waiting:

    • Waiting to get out of debt (how long it’s been)
    • Waiting to hear back from a new career opportunity
    • Waiting to finish work that keeps taking and not so much giving equally in return
    • Just waiting and seeing nothing change or change has been incredibly slow

    That’s what this feels like for and to me—wondering when things will end or change or have something that’s mine that I can be proud of. And, yet, because of all of the waiting that I do, I have to give up something (sleep, eating, taking care of myself) in order to have something I built, that I chose to do, instead of someone telling me to do it.

  • The Real Pros and Cons of Rage Rooms (From Someone Who Works in One)

    A sketch of my job’s mascot representing a person’s (mental and emotional) prison FINALLY getting a chance to be let out in a rage room.

    I Would Like To Rage!!! In A Rage Room!

    “Ever felt that bubbling rage boiling up from within the pit of your soul? You know the feeling: Your body begins shaking, you feel your hands curling and clenching, your breathing becomes shallower and fast, your vision begins to narrow and sound becomes less noticeable, and you feel the need to exert energy and force.

    Many of us keep our emotions bottled up, afraid of judgement and the consequences that will follow if we act on our anger indiscriminately and lash out.

    That’s where a Rage Room comes in!

    A Smash room, a break room, a destruction room, whatever you want to call them, these rooms will allow you to safely explore these feelings that are commonly frowned upon in civilized society in a safe, controlled, and sanctioned environment.

    Observations From A Rage Room Attendant

    As a rage rooms attendant, I’ve seen a lot of different people enter the rage room for their own reasons. Many people, after getting everyone comfortable with the idea with breaking and destroying things, are initially visiting for a few reasons:

    • It’s a company team building experience.
    • A family or friend outing.
    • Are looking for novelty.
    • Celebrating something significant.
    • Going through a lot of stress and emotions.
    • Had been hurt, betrayed, or been through a break up.

    After they pick their items, are suited up, given the safety rules, and put into the rooms, depending on the size of their party, it’s usually free game within their 30-45 minute time slot.

    Some people are awkward and don’t put too much force behind their swings or throws that I tend to find a lot of things left unbroken that I can give to the next group to break.

    Although, most visitors are military, so they fall into one of two categories:

    They are either so efficient that they are in and out of the room in under 5 minutes, likely due to their efficiency and training, while others take their time and enjoy themselves after being on tour.

    Then there’s those who are doing this for fun with friends and family, or people who are celebrating a huge win for their company and they actually like and enjoy their coworkers enough to do an outing, and or someone is leaving their company and this is a farewell gift(a pretty cool and memorable one in my opinion).

    I’ve seen the people who have had their hearts broken. There is nothing more painful and rage inducing than hurt, pain, and loss. When they enter, some are willing to share that they’ve gone through a break up, they still have a smile or neutral expression on their face, but others you can tell only by the type of music they play when the room door closes. It’s pretty obvious and we can see their behavior on the cameras to make sure they’re doing okay.

    Real World Examples In Action

    I remember a group of women, three friends, came in because one friend was going through heartbreak. All three were extremely enthusiastic when in the room that I saw they were stomping on a CPU unit after being told not to in the safety briefing.

    Fun can make people myopic, but they knew what they were getting themselves into and we made sure they didn’t do anything to really hurt themselves or each other.

    Another visitor was a high school boy and his good friend. He was visiting because he was going through a break up, and from what the dad, and the boy’s choice in music, told me.

    The second I heard, “Photograph, Thinking Out Loud, and Perfect” by Ed Sheeran, ‘I’m Not The Only One” by Sam Smith, “It Will Rain” by Bruno Mars, and other sad sounding love songs, I knew what was happening.

    The Pro’s of A Rage Room

    I may be a rage room attendant trying to endorse people to try something I work at, but I’ve seen the benefits of people taking their frustrations out with us than outside in the world. Besides novelty, a Rage Room:

    • Allows for safe and immediate release of anger and excess emotions: Why destroy things outside and get arrested, when you can do so someplace designed for this kind of release?
    • Accessible and low-commitment: Unlike therapy or martial arts gyms, you don’t have to commit to scheduled sessions. You can walk in, smash and scream, drink water, and leave and return whenever you want.
    • Provides cathartic support: You don’t have to talk, no one has to listen, it’s just you in a room with things to break, a few lead pipes and sledgehammers, and the world doesn’t have to bat an eye to you in that room. Except us employees. Whatever happens in the rage room, stays in the rage room(unless you’re recording on your phone).

    What Are the Downsides?

    The cons are just as important to know as the pros. They do make a difference if you want to give it a try or not, but it’s not always a make or break deal. Visiting a rage room isn’t always the best solution. A rage room:

    • Can be expensive: It’s a better investment than bail, but the money could be better used towards therapy or a martial arts classes.
    • It doesn’t address the root cause or emotion for the visit: rage rooms are meant to be fun, novel, and an outlet for sublimation, but it’s not a solution. Rage rooms can’t provide skills or strategies to deal with anger or excess emotions that professional help is better equipped to do.
    • It could reinforce destructive behavior: Ironically, though we do have repeat customers, a rage room might reinforce someone’s inclination to deal with their emotions through destructive means. I’m not suggesting that these repeat customers fall into this assumption, but people are interesting and might cling to this outlet as the only solution they can get.
    • Not readily available in your area: Rage rooms are a growing trend, but aren’t everywhere. My workplace is the only one in my state, so some people have to take a drive down or need a plane ticket over. It’s another reason to consider long-term and local alternatives instead.

    Do Rage Rooms Have Anything Else?

    Yes, as far as my job goes, Rage rooms do have other means of letting excess energy out. People don’t have to come in angry to enjoy the services my job can offer, though some people are usually in need of a different kind of release. One not catering towards destruction, rather one that’s more creative.

    We have a Zen Lounge where people can relax, talk stories, and chill after a rage room session or before entering the Splatter Room.

    A Splatter Room is an open paint room where you can shoot paint at the walls, the provided canvases, or each other with paint guns or the paint kits.

    It’s a different and creative release some people appreciate instead of wanting to break things when they don’t feel compelled to.

    We do provide safety gear: ponchos, eye wear, and boots to protect people’s clothes and eyes as best as possible, but friends and family make that difficult when fun’s involved.

    Being creative can be just as cathartic as the rage room as it lets you be physical and you don’t have to care what you create, compared to painting a masterpiece or someone’s house.

    What About The Overly Enthusiastic Individuals?

    Some people have asked, other than what items they are allowed to bring to smash from the outside, if they could bring the person who hurt them in to smash. Other than an obvious, “no”, I’m able to suggest another alternative.

    An Alternative To Rage: Martial Arts

    I’ve done wrestling and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu prior to working at the rage room, so I suggest that people can visit a sparring gym.

    Any gym that offers sparring:

    • Boxing.
    • Kickboxing.
    • Judo.
    • Muay-Thai.
    • Wrestling.
    • BJJ.
    • ANY MARTIAL ARTS GYM.

    Any good gym will teach you new physical skills and how to ensure you keep a level head. Anger doesn’t make a person stronger, no matter how much of a fan of Dragon Ball Z or Naruto: Shippuden you are.

    Those are animes; we don’t live in an anime where we’re the main characters with plot armor. I know this intimately and from experience that anger makes you sloppy, predictable, and a sore loser who refuses to learn or adjust their approach to the sport and to life.

    True Strength Lies Within

    I had spent more than 10 years wrestling with my anger. During BJJ training, I didn’t care what happened to me, I wanted to see what I could do. Even if that meant enduring some locks or chokes because I didn’t want to tap out and I wanted to see if I could get out. My personal motto was, “If I can talk, I’m still breathing.”

    However, I’ve been dealing with emotional numbness for years that a professor at my gym told me some people, and himself, thought something was wrong with me.

    That kind of hurt because that told me people thought I was damaged in some way and it showed in my training. I was eager to learn and use my wrestling experience to help me learn a new sport, but I needed to FEEL something, anything, because I struggled to that wasn’t anger. So, once being told this, I tried to tap more, but my habits always kicked in, unless something really did hurt.

    My training would suffer when I got mad; I would be blind to the countermoves, to the opportunities to attack and defend. I needed more energy, and my trade off was horrible in the end.

    I hated training, I hated myself, and that hate made it difficult to learn or pay attention to the lessons being taught, in BJJ and in life.

    I would rather train and spar than deal with the real reasons for my anger, but I did it anyways. I needed to because doing nothing would have gotten me into real trouble. Then what? I’d be in jail and have that on my record for life, making a lot of opportunities impossible and out of reach than it already is for me.

    Therapy wasn’t the best fit for me when I tried it, but I’m not averse to trying again. Money is kinda tight right now, so I’ve started taking notes, noticing any changes in myself and what could have caused it, setting boundaries, having standards for myself, while pursing new outlets at home and on a budget.

    Seeking professional help, even learning new skills, to redirect anger through a sport or art is more powerful than anger ever could be. It takes more strength and courage to do the things that scare us and I know well that facing my own demons are terrifying.

    I’ve been noticing that some places in my life ignite the rage I’ve been keeping under wraps. It emerges when I feel disrespected, looked down upon, or made a fool of because I’m not conventionally successful or in a position of authority. I’m just a grunt at my full time job and it drives me up the wall.

    Anger and sublimation are signals, not long term solutions, and are trying to tell you that something is wrong. Don’t let it consume you because you might do something you could regret.

    Reflection

    Have you ever gone to a rage room for its novelty, creative outlet, or needed to break something that wasn’t going to hit you back? If you did, share your experience with 1 word that described what it was like or how you felt when you visited.

    I’d love to know what your opinions on them are in the comments below. No pressure. No clickbait. Just curious. Thank you, Fellow Archivists, I’ll see you all in another post.

    Call to Action

    If any part of this resonated with you — the release, the rage, the quiet that follows after — consider sharing this piece with someone who might need a reminder that it’s okay to break before you rebuild.

    Every read, like, subscribe, and share helps this small corner of the internet grow a little louder in a world that keeps trying to quiet us down.

    Below are other reflections I had on feeling anger, redirecting it, not feeling enough, and doing something different.

    Gifts From The Archives: