Raise your hand if there’s a part of you that feels powerful when you are angry.
That part that feels Strong. Unshakable. Fully alive. In some ways, it might even feel good.

If we’re being honest, most of us have our hands up.
Because we see our anger as necessary.
As something that helps us stand up for ourselves, defend our boundaries, and fight for what’s right.

We call it righteous. Empowering. Protective.
We worry that without it, we might become a doormat.
If I’m not angry, we think, won’t people just walk all over me?

Now what about grief?

Raise your hand if there’s a part of you that’s attached to feeling grief.
I don’t think anyone likes grief.
But we often believe we should feel it—maybe even that we must.
Especially when we lose someone or something we love.

We believe we should be devastated.
Crushed.
Wrecked.
Undone.

Because if we’re not, what does that say about how much we loved them?

We treat our most painful emotions as proof—
Proof of love.
Proof of loyalty.
Proof of strength.

And in many ways, that makes sense.
It’s how we’ve been taught to make meaning for a long time.

But here’s a question I’ve been sitting with:

What if we didn’t need the intensity of those emotions to know what’s true?

What if you could know, deep in your heart, that someone mattered to you…
That you loved them…
That you missed them…
Without needing to be consumed by grief?

What if you could recognize when someone was crossing a line-
That you were feeling unsafe or disrespected-
And calmly, clearly set a boundary…
Without needing to tap into anger to do it?

What if the emotion wasn’t the truth-teller? What if you were?

What if you could still be human, still care deeply, still stay safe and strong-
Without letting these emotions run your life?