When Anger Had Control of Me — and How I Took My Life Back

There was a time when anger didn’t just influence me.

It controlled me.

I don’t say that lightly, and I don’t say it for shock value. I say it because the truth matters especially when transformation is real. There was a season of my life where my anger escalated beyond words, beyond internal tension, beyond emotional shutdown.

I became violent.

That violence led to real consequences.

Arrests.

Jail time.

Moments where my life could have gone in a direction I may not have come back from.

That part of my story isn’t easy to write—but it’s essential. Because I didn’t learn emotional control from a safe distance. I learned it after losing it completely.

My anger didn’t come from nowhere. It was shaped by unresolved trauma, unhealthy relationship dynamics, emotional neglect, and years of survival-mode responses that went unchecked. Especially in my relationship with my ex, where patterns of dismissal, emotional volatility, and lack of safety kept my nervous system constantly activated.

I didn’t have the tools to regulate. I didn’t know how to pause. I didn’t know how to feel anger without acting from it. So when it surfaced, it took over.

I want to be clear about something: understanding where anger comes from does not excuse what it causes. I am fully accountable for the harm I caused and the consequences I faced. Trauma may explain behavior but it never justifies it. That realization was sobering. And it changed everything. Faith was what stopped me long enough to see the truth—not just about God, but about myself. Not in a way that condemned me, but in a way that demanded responsibility. I could no longer spiritualize my way around the damage. I had to face it. I reached a point where I had to decide: either anger would continue to run my life, or I would do the hardest thing I’ve ever done learn how to lead it.

That learning was not gentle. It meant confronting my triggers instead of blaming others. It meant accepting consequences without deflection. It meant rebuilding discipline from the ground up.

I had to retrain my nervous system. Learn how to recognize escalation before it reached a breaking point. Learn how to step away instead of forward. Learn how to sit with discomfort without acting it out. Faith became less about asking God to change me instantly and more about asking for the strength to practice change daily.

I learned that anger is not evil—but it is powerful. And power without regulation is dangerous. What I needed wasn’t suppression. It was structure. Awareness. Boundaries. Accountability.

Over time—slowly, intentionally—I changed.

I no longer react on impulse. I no longer allow escalation to reach the point of loss of control. I know my warning signs. I respect my limits. And when anger rises now, it no longer decides for me.

That transformation didn’t come from pretending my past didn’t exist. It came from facing it fully. From admitting the harm. From doing the unglamorous work of rewiring my responses and rebuilding trust with myself.

This is not a story of perfection. It’s a story of redirection.

If you’ve had moments you’re ashamed of… If your anger has cost you relationships, freedom, or peace… If you believe you’re “too far gone” to change… You’re not. But change requires honesty. Responsibility. And commitment. I am not who I was—and I never want to be again. What I’ve learned through this process is that transformation is possible when faith meets discipline, when awareness meets accountability, and when you decide that your past does not get to define your future. I don’t write this to excuse who I was.

I write it to stand firmly in who I’ve become. And if my story tells you anything, let it be this: even the most destructive patterns can be unlearned—when you are willing to face them fully and do the work that real change demands.

If you’re struggling with anger that feels out of control, please seek immediate support through a trusted professional, counselor, or crisis resource.