
Kitija Ozolina · Awareness Mentor for Mothers
Almost no argument is actually about what it seems to be about.
The anger comes fast. Too fast sometimes. It feels like anger. But underneath it is almost always something else.
This is about finding what that is.
Your reaction made sense.
Just not to this situation. to the older one underneath it. Both things can be true at once.
Something happens in the present. Small, sometimes. A tone of voice. A look that reminds you of something. A moment of being ignored or dismissed or not chosen.
And underneath that, there is a wound that is still alive. The feeling of not being seen. Of not being enough. Of being too much. Of being left.
The new situation touches the old one. And suddenly you are reacting to both at once. to what is happening now, and to everything that happened before that felt the same way.
That is why the reaction is bigger than the moment. Because it is carrying more than one moment.
Because we do not have language for underneath.
"I feel like I am not worth a text" is much harder to say than "you were late." The surface is concrete. It is defensible. You can point to it. The thing underneath is soft and old and vulnerable, and to say it out loud requires trusting that the person will receive it instead of use it.
So we argue about the dishes. The lateness. The thing he said. The tone she used. We have the argument at the surface level because that is the only level that does not require us to be that exposed.
The surface argument rarely resolves anything. Because the surface was not what needed resolving.
The argument gets smaller.
Not because the thing that happened stops mattering. But because when you can see what the feeling is actually about, you stop fighting the person in front of you and start seeing the wound that got touched.
And a wound needs something different from what an argument gives it. It does not need to win. It needs to be acknowledged. Held, even. By you first. By someone else if possible, if the trust is there.
I cannot promise naming it makes the argument easier. Sometimes it makes it harder because suddenly you are talking about something real. But I think it makes it truer. And eventually truer is the only thing that helps.
The practice of going beneath the anger.
After the next time you feel a big reaction. not in the middle of it, but afterwards when you have landed. sit with the question: what was I actually feeling underneath that? Not what did they do wrong. What did I feel, in my body, in that moment? Was it hurt? Fear? The feeling of being invisible? Find the feeling beneath the anger. That is the one that needs something.
The anger knows. It is showing you where it hurts.
You do not have to stop feeling it. Just let it point you somewhere more useful than the argument.
What is your anger trying to protect?
With love, Kitija 🤍
If saying no is the part that is hard, The Quiet No goes into it properly.
Have a look →