Breaking Open: From Bottled-Up Anger to Righteous Action

All bottled up does not refer to a cold, delicious beer with a shiny metal top, nor to a smooth Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whiskey, yet to be savored. It speaks of something far more explosive—rage, frustration, and the feeling of being on the verge of eruption.

A bottle sits on my counter, given to me by a former Trump supporter—someone who, like me, is probably no longer a supporter. The label reads: Donald Trump - Old No. 45 Brand - United States of America – President - Washington D.C. - Make America Great Again - 50% Brains 50% Balls by Vol. (110 Proof). The 50% brains, 50% balls statement didn’t sink in until I sat down to write this. How fitting. Trump was the wrecking ball America thought it needed—someone willing to disrupt the entrenched political system. And he did. But destruction, when unrestrained and untethered to wisdom, burns indiscriminately.

Trump was a bully in a field of bullies, in a system where strength is often mistaken for ruthlessness. He shattered norms, but not in a way that built something better, peace. He destroyed both good and bad because he lacked self-control and an awareness of the consequences of his actions. He parades as a solid Christian, yet his outward behavior is anything but Christ-like. Even so, conservatives idolized him, elevating him to near-savior status, standing by him through the nation’s darkest hours—including January 6, 2021.

I voted for Trump twice in 2016 and 2020 but in 2024, intuition spoke loudly to vote for a more moderate write-in presidential candidate. Like many Americans, I was caught in the perpetual cycle of voting for the lesser of two evils—forced to choose between extreme conservatism, where officials impose their religious beliefs through law, and extreme liberalism, where generosity verges on enabling, funded largely by the overtaxed middle and upper middle class while the ultra-wealthy manipulate a tax system designed to benefit them. The real enemy isn’t each other—it’s the political system that keeps us divided. The illusion that our two political parties are protecting us has fractured the American family. I’ve learned that the real monsters aren’t the ones lurking under the bed—they’re the ones standing in plain sight, wrapped in red and blue banners with self serving agendas.

And I am angry. Not the kind of anger that fizzes like a shaken bottle of soda, making a mess but doing no real damage. This is volcanic anger—slow-building, yet inevitable.

The Weight of Bottled-Up Anger

Recently, three holistic practitioners told me that my energy moves slowly, as a protective measure. Two of them said I am storing a lot of anger. That forced me to ask: What is causing the anger in me?

The memories that surfaced were uncomfortable—painful even. But speaking them aloud to trusted people brought enormous relief. It allowed me to forgive and, in doing so, reclaim the power I had unknowingly surrendered to my anger. My psychologist gave me a profound tool: “Ask yourself, ‘What is my anger trying to tell me?’”

Anger is the tip of the iceberg. Beneath it lie buried emotions—sadness, disappointment, loneliness, grief, frustration, anxiety, exhaustion, fear, shame. Many of us are taught that feelings don’t matter, that expressing them is a sign of weakness. “Shake it off.” “Toughen up.” “Don’t take it personally.” But when we suppress emotions for too long, they don’t disappear—they manifest as physical pain, chronic stress, and, eventually, explosive outbursts.

For two decades since 9/11, I bottled up my emotions in an effort to “keep the peace.” But suppression is not peace. It is only delayed eruption.

Jesus and Righteous Anger

Even Jesus, the ultimate symbol of love, felt anger. But his anger wasn’t reckless—it was righteous. When he turned over the tables of the money changers in the temple, he wasn’t having a tantrum; he was standing up against corruption, greed, and the perversion of a sacred space.

We often forget that anger, when harnessed correctly, is a call to action. Jesus didn’t remain passive in the face of injustice—he spoke boldly, confronted power, and demanded change. His anger was not destructive for destruction’s sake; it was purposeful. He did not shy away from calling out hypocrites, nor did he sugarcoat truth for the comfort of those in power.

A Nation on the Brink

The bipolar pendulum of American politics has been swinging wildly between extremes, from the disruptive force of Trump’s presidency to the establishment control of Biden’s administration. Each represented opposite ends of the spectrum—one embodying reckless upheaval, the other promising stability but delivering stagnation. And yet, throughout both tenures, discontent festered among the masses. The people were promised change but given dysfunction. They were told to choose sides, yet neither side truly served them. This endless swing between political extremes does nothing to solve the nation’s real problems—it only deepens division and fuels the collective anger boiling beneath the surface.

What we are witnessing in this country is destructive anger—anger that has nowhere to go, that is acted out in unproductive, even violent ways. People lack healthy outlets to express their frustrations without fear of judgment or repression. Like me, America is angry. But what is beneath that anger? What pain? What fear? What unmet need?

Society is experiencing a collective breakdown. The healthcare system is failing us. The economy is manipulated to serve the few at the expense of the many. The political system thrives on division and dysfunction. And yet, we take out our anger on each other instead of the systems responsible.

From Eruption to Transformation

Unchecked, volcanic anger is purely destructive. But channeled correctly, it becomes a force for change. Jesus didn’t turn over tables for the sake of flipping tables—he did it because he refused to let corruption stand. Love, at times, destroys—but only that which is rotten, that which bears no fruit.

Like lava, anger carves new landscapes. It reshapes. It reforms.

So I ask myself, and I ask you: What is your anger telling you?

Will we let it consume us? Or will we use it to build something better?