Faded Jeans Living

Men’s Work #10: I’m 60 and I’m Still Figuring This Shit Out

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“Anger is a catalyst. Holding on to it will make us exhausted and sick. Internalizing anger will take away our joy and spirit; externalizing anger will make us less effective in our attempts to create change and forge connection. It’s an emotion that we need to transform into something life-giving: courage, love, change, compassion, and justice.”

— Brené Brown, Braving the Wilderness

No man wants to be talking about the anger he’s been carrying inside.

At 60, I thought I’d have more of my shit figured out. I thought I’d have made peace with the past, made my amends, and have things pretty well in order.

But here I am.

This is number 10 in my Men’s Work series, and there’s not a lot of joy in writing about something this personal. I’m doing it because vulnerability matters, and maybe by being willing to put some of this out there, another man will recognize himself in it and realize he’s not alone.

My anger is more civilized now. I’ve learned how to contain it, push it down, and keep moving.

But that doesn’t mean it isn’t destructive.

If anything, some of that anger has simply turned inward.

I notice it. I just haven’t wanted to shine much light on it. Maybe that’s something a lot of men do. We keep moving, stay busy, take care of things, and learn to live with whatever is sitting underneath.

But it’s there.

I’m angry about some of the choices I made when I was younger. I’m angry about things I didn’t get growing up—my dad not being around to teach me things, play catch, show me how things worked, or help guide me along more.

I’m angry that I didn’t always feel loved. I’m angry that I didn’t develop the confidence I wish I had. I’m angry that I still struggle with motivation and finding a sense of vocation. And I’m angry that, because I didn’t have some of those tools myself, I passed some of that on to my kids.

There’s a lot there.

As I talk about it, I can feel the tension higher up in my chest. But it’s a good tension. It feels like something that has been sitting inside me for a long time is finally coming out.

And maybe that’s the difference now.

I’m willing to look at it.

Putting words to the anger gives it shape. Instead of one big, unnamed feeling sitting somewhere in the background, I can begin to see the individual pieces.

My anger around my upbringing.

My anger at myself.

My anger about the things I didn’t have.

My anger about the things I did.

Each time I put words to another piece, I can shine a little more light on it.

I don’t have to figure it all out at once. I can look at one piece, understand it, feel it, and slowly work through it.

I’m tired of carrying it. And I know I can’t carry this for another 20 or 25 years.

I don’t want to.

That’s why I’m doing something about it now. I have therapy in place. I have my men’s circle. I have a couple of accountability groups that also provide support. I have places where I can begin putting words to the things I’ve mostly carried quietly.

“Our emotions are data, not directions. We can learn from them, but we don’t need to obey them or be dominated by them.”

— Susan David

Maybe that’s what I’m learning to do with my anger.

Listen to it.

What is it telling me?

What is it telling me about what I needed, what I lost, what I regret, and what still matters to me?

And for those who might wonder, yes, I do have a pretty solid spiritual foundation. I’m leaning into it heavily right now—and connecting more deeply with what I believe.

I can’t change what happened.

I can’t change the choices I made.

I can’t go back and give myself the childhood I wish I’d had.

But I can work with what’s here now.

And I’m not doing it alone.

I’m learning that I’m not the only man who has made mistakes, carried shame, or wondered why he hasn’t figured it all out yet. Being able to talk about these things with other men without having to hide them has made a difference.

Maybe that’s where some hope comes in.

I know there is goodness in me.

There is goodness around me.

I am goodness.

I just didn’t have a lot of the tools or experiences early in life that allowed that goodness to shine.

I have more of those tools now.

So maybe making peace with my anger doesn’t mean getting rid of it.

Maybe it means finally having the courage to look at it, understand where it came from, take responsibility for what I did with it, and decide what I want to do with it now.

It’s good work.

And I’m finally doing it.

How about you?

-Dwight

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