The Essence of Anger Management Is Not 'Waiting 6 Seconds' | An Occupational Therapist with 13 Years of Adlerian Practice Discusses the 'True Emotions' Beneath Anger

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Prologue—The wrist of a fifth-grader pierced by the glass of a shoji screen

When I was in the fifth grade, I got into a fistfight with my older brother.

I don't remember the reason anymore. But the moment my brother nimbly dodged the punch I had swung with all my might, my hand smashed through the house's glass shoji screen. Shards of broken glass pierced my wrist, and I had to get eight stitches at the hospital.

Thinking about it now, it's a chilling story. If it had been a few centimeters off, I would have severed an artery.

As a child, I was a kid who would snap at everything. I can look back calmly now and assume my prefrontal cortex hadn't fully developed. I argued with my father many times, too. I would get hot-headed at the absurdity of him being in the wrong but refusing to apologize. In middle school, I was worried about premature graying, and I lashed out at a classmate in the judo club who made fun of it. My parents were called to the school.

I was a child who was more prone to getting hot-headed over absurdity and harassment than anyone else.

—But, I will write this honestly.

Even when I unleashed my anger on others, it didn't relieve my stress at all. If anything, it only left me with regret. Maybe it's because I'm an HSP. After yelling, I would worry about the other person. I'd wonder, what kind of face are they making right now?

The emotion of anger feels good the moment you wind up to strike. But after you follow through, there is always glass stuck in your wrist. Looking back now, that shoji screen incident was like a metaphor for my life.

I am an HSP and ISFJ in my 16th year as an occupational therapist, working at a special nursing home. Today, I want to write about the honest truth I've practiced for 13 years since encountering Adlerian psychology, under the theme of "anger management."

This isn't about the "let's count to 6 seconds" technique that is everywhere in society. It's a deeper, more painful story.

Chapter 1—My heart was broken by being the target of anger

What turned me from a child who could get angry into someone who "couldn't get angry" was my experience in my first year of working.

Every night until 11 PM, I was subjected to verbal abuse. I won't repeat the details as I've written them in past articles, but during that time, my heart was definitely broken.

And because it was broken, I became unable to truly get angry.

This isn't just a mental theory. In my brain, the circuit of "anger = something that destroys the other person" was etched in painfully deep. How the heart of the person being yelled at jumps, how their breathing becomes shallow, how their thinking stops, how their body tenses up—I experienced all of that with my own body.

So, the moment I try to yell at someone, I reflexively see "what happens to the other person's body." At the time, that wasn't knowledge yet. It was just trauma.

But now, after 16 years of field experience as an occupational therapist, I can say it clearly.

A person who is the target of anger becomes completely unable to accept the other person's logical arguments.

The moment you are yelled at, your brain enters defense mode. The function of the frontal lobe drops, and you become unable to logically process the meaning of words. All that remains is fear and withdrawal—the feeling of being 'scared' or 'denied'.

No matter how correct the guidance may be, the moment it is delivered by yelling, that correctness becomes noise and vanishes.

As an OT, I have witnessed this many times in special nursing homes. The moment a staff member who is overwhelmed speaks in a harsh tone, the resident stops moving. They become unable to do what they usually can. A junior staff member shrinks, and their focus shifts away from the resident in front of them.

Anger and bad moods spread like ripples. They rob everyone present of their performance.

Anger is the worst possible tool for communication.

Chapter 2—13 Years Ago, Adler 'Verbalized' My Feelings

13 years ago, I read 'The Courage to Be Disliked'.

There was one sentence in it that shocked me.

“Anger is nothing more than a tool to force the other person to submit and to control them.”

The moment I read it, an electric shock ran through my entire body.

The sensation I learned physically in my first year as a working professional—that 'the person being yelled at cannot receive the other person's words' and 'anger is not communication but domination'—Adler had already verbalized 100 years ago.

My trauma became a 'weapon' only after I encountered this knowledge.

Until then, my 'inability to get angry' was just a fear response. I was afraid of being yelled at, so I couldn't yell back. That was all.

But after reading Adler, the order of things reversed within me.

It changed from 'I can't get angry because I'm afraid of being yelled at' to 'I choose not to use that tool because anger is nothing more than a tool to control others'—an active choice.

This is significant.

Being unable to move due to trauma is 'weakness.' But not moving due to conviction is 'strength.'

Even with the same action of 'not getting angry,' the internal structure is completely different. Over 13 years, I have gradually remade myself from the former to the latter.

Chapter 3—5 Practical Techniques for Not Using Anger

In the 13 years I have been practicing this, I would like to write down 5 techniques that I use on a daily basis.

The first is to sleep on it. The moment you feel anger, the HSP nervous system enters defense mode. If you open your mouth in this state, your words become blades. Therefore, you put it on hold for a while. Even if you receive an unreasonable request at work, you reply, 'May I take some time to organize my thoughts before responding?' If you sleep on it, your prefrontal cortex recovers, and by the next morning, you can return with a calm 'proposal'.

The second is separation of tasks. When you see someone else's bad mood, the emotional resonance unique to HSPs makes it feel like you are about to be dragged into it as well. So, in your heart, you draw a line and say, 'This is the other person's task.' That day, two months before our wedding, when my wife cried and said, 'I'm calling off the wedding,' I held on by using this boundary—though it caused other problems later, which I will discuss later.

The third is strategic withdrawal. When the air at home is tense, or when things are prickly at work, staying in that space is not always the right answer. Escaping to the restroom to take a deep breath, taking a nap in the car, or sleeping in a separate room at night. This is not 'running away,' but an environmental adjustment to protect yourself and those around you from anger.

The fourth is instant process recording. I apply the technique I use as an OT to record and reflect on interactions with patients instantly at home. I predict in 0.5 seconds, 'If I say this, how will my daughter react?' I can see a future where if I yell, 'Hurry up!', she will cry more and the situation will drag on. That is why I choose positive rephrasing like, 'That's difficult, isn't it?' or 'Shall we do it together?'

And the fifth—this is the most important one.

Looking at the 'true emotions' hidden beneath the anger.

This is less about technique and more about an essential perspective. I will write about it in detail in the next chapter.

Chapter 4—The essence of anger management is not 'waiting 6 seconds'

I will write honestly.

The techniques often talked about in society, such as 'count to 6 when you feel anger' or 'keep an anger log,' hardly worked for me at all.

Why?

Because when the sensitive nervous system of an HSP is being hacked by the strong stimulus of anger—when the sympathetic nervous system is completely running wild—the human brain is not conveniently designed to allow you to calmly count to 6 or keep a logical record.

There is an answer I have arrived at after 13 years of practice.

Anger management is not a technique of endurance, such as 'how to suppress' the anger that wells up.

It is the work of diving beneath the anger to go and find the 'true emotion'.

In Adlerian psychology, anger is called a 'secondary emotion.' Beneath anger, there is always a 'primary emotion.' Anxiety, sadness, loneliness, fear, the desire to be understood. And above all, overwhelming 'physical and mental exhaustion'.

There was a resident at a special nursing home who would go on a rampage. They would try to open the emergency stairs, sit in front of the elevator for hours, and refuse medication and meals. The staff recorded it as 'agitated state' and 'difficult to handle.' But when I went to listen to them, the person quietly said, 'I just wasn't being listened to properly.'

That person wasn't angry. They were sad.

It is the same for me. When I feel like I am about to get irritated at home, if I look deep inside, I am not angry at my daughter. I am just losing my composure due to 'the impatience of having my time taken away' or 'pure exhaustion.' It might just be that my shoulder blades are stiff, my breathing is shallow, and my autonomic nervous system is out of balance.

In other words, the essence of anger management is not suppressing anger. It is the work of diving inside and finding the true emotion by asking, 'What am I sad about right now? What am I tired of?'.

The moment you give a name to your true emotions, the tone of your anger strangely and smoothly fades away.

This is not a matter of technique, but of the nervous system. Once primary emotions are recognized, there is no longer a need to cover them up. Therefore, anger, which is a secondary emotion, disappears. It is a structure as simple as that.

Chapter 5—In Raising My Child, I Have Never Once Yelled at My Daughter

I have never once yelled at my 7-year-old daughter in an emotional way.

This is not because I am a mild-mannered person. It is an intentional choice made precisely because I encountered Adler 13 years ago and understood that anger is merely a destructive tool used to control others.

There are three things I have done specifically.

One is that I have sealed away blunt denials like 'No' or 'Stop it'. I logically explain why I do not want her to do something. Instead of 'Don't run!', I say 'Let's walk.' Instead of 'You'll spill it!', I say 'Let's hold it with both hands.' I specifically suggest how I want her to act. This also aligns with the 'guiding toward appropriate behavior' used in occupational therapy.

The second is the story of how my daughter stopped using the word 'impossible'. Around the age of 4 or 5, she started frequently using the word 'impossible' at home after learning it at preschool. I told her, 'If you say it's impossible, your growth will stop right there.' Then, we converted 'impossible' into 'It's difficult right now,' 'How can we do it?', or 'Shall we try it together?' Rather than suppressing her with emotions, we have spent time sharing the idea that the way you choose your words shapes your thinking.

The third is never having arguments with my spouse in front of our child. There is a clear reason for this.

Chapter 6—A Child's Brain Is Physically Deformed by a Parent's Yelling

From here on, as an occupational therapist—and as a parent—I must share some facts.

Recent brain science has revealed some shocking facts.

When a child is routinely yelled at by parents or grows up witnessing intense arguments between their parents, their brain suffers physical damage.

I will organize the content verified by Professor Akemi Tomoda of the University of Fukui and joint research from Harvard University.

It is known that children who grow up witnessing intense arguments between their parents experience a **reduction in the volume of the 'visual cortex'** in the back of the brain. This is a defensive reaction where the brain deforms itself to protect the heart in order to 'avoid seeing' painful and frightening scenes.

If a child continues to hear intense verbal abuse flying back and forth, a part of the 'auditory cortex' becomes enlarged or deformed. This is the result of trying to adapt to the stress caused by unbearable words.

And the most serious issue is the impairment of the development of the 'prefrontal cortex'. It has been confirmed that children who grow up being routinely yelled at emotionally experience delayed development or atrophy of the prefrontal cortex, which is the brain's command center.

The mechanism is as follows: When a child is scolded in a way that makes them feel fear, a massive amount of a powerful stress hormone called cortisol is secreted. If the brain is exposed to this at high concentrations for a long period, it inhibits the development of nerve cells. Furthermore, because a brain constantly exposed to fear prioritizes 'survival,' it causes primitive parts like the amygdala to become hypersensitive, preventing energy from reaching the prefrontal cortex, which governs advanced reasoning.

What happens if the prefrontal cortex does not develop?

The emotional brakes stop working. Thinking logically becomes difficult. Empathy for others decreases.

A very terrifying vicious cycle is created here.

Parents get angry emotionally → The child's prefrontal cortex shrinks → The child cannot control their emotions and acts out → Parents get even angrier

The more you get angry, the more the child's brain becomes 'unable to listen'.

'Scolding' and 'yelling' are different. Guidance to teach safety and social rules is necessary. What damages the brain is the kind of scolding that induces fear—yelling loudly, denying someone's personality, lecturing for a long time, or using intimidating attitudes and corporal punishment.

My choice to 'not get angry' through Adlerian psychology, as a result, also became the approach that most healthily nurtured my daughter's prefrontal cortex from the perspective of neuroscience.

This is not a boast.I just want you to know as knowledge how significant the choice of 'not yelling' is.

A prefrontal cortex that grows up without being controlled by fear develops into a strong brain capable of thinking for itself, empathizing with others, and controlling its own emotions. This also means growing into a person who possesses what Adler called 'social interest'.

Chapter 7—The Conflict That Remains: 'The Self That Cannot Get Angry'

I have written this quite arrogantly, but I will confess honestly.

Even now, there is a conflict within me.

Two months before our wedding, the day my wife exploded with emotion, saying, 'I'm calling off the wedding.' I used 'separation of tasks' as a shield and dealt with it as calmly as possible. As a defensive technique, it might have been the correct answer.

But my wife said this to me while crying.

'Why won't you get angry at me?'

In that moment, I realized.

'Complete calmness' toward someone who is projecting their emotions onto you can sometimes pierce like a blade, serving as a cold message that says, 'I am not interested in you' or 'I am pushing you away'.

In prioritizing not getting angry, had I severed the 'connection' with the person most important to me?

Even 13 years later, it is a primal experience that stings my heart.

And there is one more anxiety I have as a father.

'If my daughter is unreasonably hurt, or if the safety of my family is threatened, can I truly fight?'

Due to trauma from my first year as a working professional, there is an instinctive fear of head-on conflict with others at my core. Is it possible that I am just using the pretty words 'choosing not to get angry' to simply 'run away from making waves'?

This conflict still hasn't completely disappeared, even now.

However, there is an answer I have arrived at today.

Choosing not to use anger as a 'tool to manipulate others' is undoubtedly a 'choice' and a form of strength. On the other hand, swallowing one's anger out of fear of deep confrontation is a 'weakness' stemming from being an HSP.

These two things cannot be clearly separated. They coexist within me like a gradient.

There is no need to see things in black and white.

It is precisely because I have weaknesses that I can notice the pain of others.

And when the time comes, I can take 'action' to protect my family without needing to explode with the emotion of 'anger.' To protect my daughter, I can step in calmly and firmly, putting myself in harm's way, without needing to intimidate the other person.

The ability to get angry and the ability to protect are two different things.

As long as I have that resolve deep in my gut, I am fine being this 'person who cannot get angry.' I believe that now.

Epilogue—To you who worries, 'I hate that I shout so easily'

Finally, to you who is reading this article.

Especially to those who worry, 'I hate that I shout at my children so easily' or 'I fall into self-loathing because I can't control my emotions at work,' I want to share something as an occupational therapist, and as a boy who once stabbed his wrist into a shoji glass door.

The reason you shout is not because you have a bad personality, because you lack love, or because you are immature as a human being.

It is a scream (SOS) from your mind and body saying, 'I cannot try any harder than this.'

On the nights you have shouted, I don't want you to blame yourself, thinking, 'I did it again.'

If you have the energy to blame yourself, I want you to use it to search for your 'primary emotion' instead.

'Why do I get so angry? Ah, I am actually very 'tired.' 'No one is helping me, and I feel 'lonely.' 'I am 'anxious' about work tomorrow.'

Give a name to your true emotions.

When you can notice the primary emotion beneath the anger, strangely, the tone of the anger will quietly fade away.

You don't have to force yourself to suppress your anger. Just notice the primary emotion of your self that is crying underneath, and be kind to it.

That is the essence of anger management that allows one to remain kind, which I have arrived at through 16 years of practice as an occupational therapist and 13 years of practicing Adlerian psychology.

When I was a child, I would swing my fist of anger so hard that I would drive my own wrist into glass.

Now, before I raise that fist, I look inside myself.

I ask, "What is it that I am sad about right now?"

That alone definitely changes the landscape of life.

May your day today be just a little bit calmer.

16th year as an Occupational Therapist | Special Nursing Home/Unit Care Staff | Former Dementia Care Instructor | HSP/ISFJ

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