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Nobody here is one real man. I’ve changed details and folded several together.
He was the calmest man in the room. That’s what people said about him, and it’s what he said about himself. He didn’t shout. He didn’t slam doors. When his business partner let him down for the third time, he sent a polite email and went for a run.
He came to one of my men’s workshops because his wife had booked it for him. He told me that in the first ten minutes, smiling, like it was a joke I’d be in on.
What it looked like
For the first hour he did everything right. He sat up straight in circle. He said thoughtful things. When it was his turn he said work had been “a bit full on” and handed over to the next man.
Then came the movement part of the afternoon. I asked the group to stand, plant their feet, push their palms hard against the wall and let a sound out on the out-breath. Most men laughed at first. He didn’t. He pushed for about ten seconds, stopped, and stood very still with his hands in fists.
I asked if he wanted to keep going. He said no. About a minute later he said yes, and pushed again, and this time the noise that came out of him made the man next to him look round. He kept going for a while. When he stopped, he sat down on the floor and didn’t say anything for a long time.
In circle afterwards he talked for longer than he had all day. Some of it was about the business partner. More of it was about his dad. He used the word angry, which he hadn’t used once all morning.
Where it goes instead
A lot of the men I work with grew up learning that anger was the dangerous one. Sadness you might get away with, in private. Anger got you sent out of the room. So they learned to tidy it away.
It doesn’t go anywhere, though. It comes out sideways. The short reply to your partner over something small. Driving too close to the car in front. A third glass of wine on a Tuesday. Working until midnight because it’s easier than going home. Going very quiet and very polite, which the people closest to you can usually feel from across the room.
That doesn’t make a man bad. Usually it means he’s been carrying something for a long time with nowhere to put it down.
Feeling it isn’t acting on it
This is the part that surprises men. Letting anger move in your body isn’t the same as taking it out on someone. In a workshop it happens inside a structure: agreements made at the start, everyone knowing they can stop, nothing aimed at anyone. Pushing a wall, stamping, making a noise on the out-breath. The point isn’t to whip anything up. It’s to give something that’s been held for years somewhere to go, so it stops leaking into your marriage and your inbox.
Something to try
Next time you catch yourself going quiet and polite when you’re actually furious, try this somewhere private. Stand with your feet flat on the floor and your palms against a wall. Push, properly, for the length of one long out-breath, and let a sound come out if it wants to. Rest. Do it three or four times. Then sit down and ask yourself one question: what am I actually angry about?
Leave the answer there for now. Knowing it is enough.
Go gently. Stop if you feel dizzy or light-headed, or if it starts to feel like too much. If you have a heart condition or high blood pressure, skip the hard pushing and just do the slow out-breath. And if your anger is frightening you or the people around you, please talk to your GP or a therapist. That isn’t something to work through on your own with a wall.
If this sounds like you
This kind of work goes further with other men in the room. If there’s nothing near you, my online men’s groups let you start from home. If you run a festival or retreat and want a session like this on the programme, have a look at how I run men’s workshops.
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