\n
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Your support makes all the difference.<\/strong><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\nRead more<\/span><\/svg><\/span><\/button><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/aside>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\nW<\/span>hen was the last time you felt angry? Actually, that\u2019s the wrong question. When was the last time you felt angry \u2013 like, a screaming, wailing kind of anger \u2013 and really let it out? It\u2019s an early Saturday morning in May, and as I put these questions to myself on the Tube to north London, I draw a blank. I see myself as being pretty in tune with my emotions, yet anger isn\u2019t one I ever really experience. Today might change that, I think, and my stomach churns nervously.<\/p>\nGoogle Maps leads me to a very nice but very normal home in a residential area near Alexandra Palace. Yet as I step through the door and am hit with the heady scent of incense and the sound of gongs \u2013 I spy \u200ba cabinet brimming with gemstones, too \u2013 it becomes clear that this place will require me to let go of my cynicism towards all things hippie. I\u2019m here for a \u201cwomen\u2019s anger transformation day retreat\u201d run by Love Your Rage, a group of spiritual practitioners helping women harness their fury. I soon realise I have no idea what I\u2019ve let myself in for.<\/p>\n
Everyone feels anger, yet it\u2019s often deemed an ugly emotion, and studies show that women in particular have trouble expressing it. It\u2019s not that women don\u2019t feel that rage; at a time when our rights and those of our loved ones are being stripped away, we have more to be angry about than ever. Yet time and time again, research has found that modern women are less likely to express their fury than men.<\/p>\n
Maybe it was some primal need to let my anger out that made me notice the Love Your Rage poster on the bathroom wall in an east London community sauna a few weeks ago. Or maybe it was a borderline voyeuristic nosiness to know what the hell goes on in a women\u2019s anger workshop. And I knew I\u2019d never get the answer unless I rolled up my sleeves \u2013 or perhaps, my linen trousers \u2013 and got involved.<\/p>\n
Because, despite what the words \u201ceast London community sauna\u201d might imply, I\u2019ve historically been pretty sceptical of all things woo-woo. So when the retreat itinerary is sent out in advance and my eyes are drawn to the item listing a \u201ccuddle puddle\u201d, I push back on my instinctual snark. You\u2019re there to fully participate, I tell myself. You won\u2019t get anything out of it if you don\u2019t. That\u2019s why, when I send a screenshot of the day\u2019s lineup to my most spiritually attuned friend (a drama therapist who brings goddess-themed tarot cards to most social occasions), I add that as wild as it all sounds, I\u2019m going to really try and not be cynical. \u201cDon\u2019t try and be anything,\u201d she replies. \u201cTrust the process.\u201d<\/p>\n
The woman who approaches me at Love Your Rage smiles warmly, checking my name off the list and showing me the bright space, where we can make a coffee, eat a biscuit, or flick through three different books about crystals before the event begins. A series of dots and lines painted in white adorn her brow; I assume they signify some religious practice, but am later told they\u2019re just a fun thing the day\u2019s facilitators like to do to mark themselves out from the attendees.<\/p>\n\n
\nI am beating my forearms into the pillow, just like we practised as a group, and suddenly twig that I am screaming for real. The feeling is disarming. Dazed, I push forward. Amid the general wailing, I catch snatched words and phrases clearly pertaining to these women\u2019s specific trauma and a huge sob surfaces from within me. <\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n
While the retreat starts with a short opening ceremony outside in the sun, the main action takes place indoors. In the main room, a circle of cushions are laid out upon the expensive-looking parquet floor, with colourful boxes of tissues pushed to the side, winking at what\u2019s to come. Given the cost of the event (at \u00a3140 for a full-price ticket and lower for those on low wages or from ethnic minorities, this is no cheap day out), I\u2019m expecting a crowd of rich white women, but the group surrounding me are far more diverse. It quickly becomes clear, through conversation, that I am the least spiritually experienced of the lot. If there is a place for me to tap into my hippie self without fear of judgement, this is it.<\/p>\n
Sat cross-legged, the four facilitators (a mixture of yoga and pole dancing teachers, masseuses and psychotherapists) introduce themselves. One of the leaders has just returned from a six-month trip to India to reconnect with her ancestors. She explains that the retreat takes inspiration from the practices she learnt there, as well as different spiritual rituals from across the globe. The word \u201cportal\u201d comes up a lot. Things might end up getting \u201cslightly intense\u201d, one of the facilitators explains, and they glance at one another and share a conspiratorial giggle. But it\u2019s nothing to be afraid of. We might feel an inclination to help others going through anything particularly powerful, but that\u2019s for the facilitators to deal with; otherwise, we should leave each other to feel our emotions.<\/p>\n
To jumpstart our participation, we are each given two timed minutes to talk about our relationships with anger. The tissue boxes are pushed into the circle \u2013 and not for the first time today. What surprises me is how immediately emotional it is: not just the talking, but the listening too. I\u2019ve not really planned what I\u2019m going to say, and am surprised to hear my voice crack when the feather-covered talking stick is passed to me.<\/p>\n
I ramble about my relationship with anger, and how, if I\u2019m honest, I\u2019m not sure I really have one. I\u2019m not confrontational, but I am non-non-confrontational \u2013 that\u2019s the line I always go with \u2013 and would rather just talk out an interpersonal conflict than sit in any feelings of frustration. I do feel a lot of rage towards the world, for sure, but it feels so unwieldy and overpowering that I\u2019ve retreated from it as a means of preservation. Ideally, I\u2019d like to learn to extract anger from the pain and fear it\u2019s often tied up in, because I don\u2019t want to lose that motivating fire beneath me. When I look up, all the women are smiling at me. Some nod. I feel understood.<\/p>\n
\n
\n<\/p>\n
open image in gallery<\/span><\/button><\/p>\n<\/div>\u2018Everyone else is screaming. I should scream too, right? I try, and it feels so unlike me; not inauthentic per se, but untapped\u2019 (Getty\/iStock)<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\nThe facilitators then describe the itinerary for the day. First up is a \u201csomatic anger therapy\u201d session, whatever that is, then we break for a vegan lunch. We\u2019ll return for group art therapy, followed by a sound bath and another sharing circle. All, beyond lunch, are new to me, and the first proves to be the most intense of all. It will consist of four different practices of \u201cactive meditation\u201d, beginning with expelling breath from the nose in short, sharp blasts for 10 minutes and ending with jumping on the spot and shouting before a free movement-slash-dance session.<\/p>\n
The middle section, however, is where the rage really comes in, and we\u2019re shown and practise different \u201canger activation\u201d movements using a cushion: pillow bashing, pillow hitting, pillow screaming, or tantruming. There\u2019s also the option of \u201cpillow humping\u201d, thrusting the pelvis forward in a move that naturally prompts the most laughs and shared looks conveying: \u201cAm I really about to do this? I guess I am.\u201d<\/p>\n
On a practical level, every base is covered, with the obligatory safety rules, adjustments for any injuries, and instructions on what to do if we feel overwhelmed. Yet it\u2019s still hard to imagine what this will look like, let alone how it will make me feel. There\u2019s an encouragement to make whatever noises come naturally throughout, but if they don\u2019t, faking it will work too. These words settle my nerves slightly. All of this is so out of my comfort zone, it\u2019s somewhat reassuring to know a hypothetical other attendee might not find this so instinctive either.<\/p>\n
\n
\n<\/p>\n
open image in gallery<\/span><\/button><\/p>\n<\/div>‘It is clear we have all been craving a release for our fury \u2013 some of us without realising it’ (Getty\/iStock)<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\nThe lights dim, a calming soundtrack plays, and we begin. The nose breathing section is a little odd (the tissues, so far only used to mop up leaky eyes, are reassigned for us hayfever sufferers in the group), and when it ends I don\u2019t quite know how we\u2019re supposed to transition into the anger activation section. The correct answer, of course, is that we\u2019re not \u201csupposed to\u201d do anything, but the choice of movements is overwhelming. I try not to focus on others, but I can sense that some people are smashing their cushions onto the ground, so I gingerly grab my own and start whacking it down. Everyone else is screaming. I should scream too, right? I try, and it feels so unlike me; not inauthentic per se, but untapped.<\/p>\n
The point at which something shifts is hard to pinpoint. All I know is, I am beating my forearms into the pillow, just like we practised as a group, and suddenly twig that I am screaming for real. The feeling is disarming. Dazed, I push forward. Amid the general wailing, I catch snatched words and phrases clearly pertaining to these women\u2019s specific trauma and a huge sob surfaces from within me. The bizarre realisation arises that it is these women I am raging for; in a moment of catharsis, their fury has given me leave to express mine. I am so, so angry on their behalf, and while that might sound like some holier-than-thou thing, I don\u2019t think<\/em> it is. Rather, it is a feeling of collective pain, and one that does feel intrinsically gendered. I am f***ing furious that women have to go through what they go through.<\/p>\nThe section ends at some point, and we move forward. Yet I feel raw. The room is incredibly warm, thanks to the windows having been shut for the screaming section (so the neighbours aren\u2019t startled by the sound of 20-30 wailing women on a Saturday morning, and hopefully let them return). They remain closed during the jumping-dancing scene we have moved into. Physical exhaustion joins the mental, as perspiration gathers at my temples and commingles oh-so-poetically with my drying tears. By the time the session comes to a close, I\u2019m too drained to even laugh at the mention of the cuddle puddle. I can be uncomfortable with physical touch from those I don\u2019t know well, yet lying with heads and stomachs and hands intertwined feels totally natural. The windows now opened, a thankfully cooling breeze blows past, and we communally exhale.<\/p>\n\n
\nMy calves ache all weekend like I\u2019ve badly paced myself on a 5K (I blame all the jumping), but there\u2019s no sense of anguish or humiliation present<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n
The afternoon\u2019s sessions are far more mellow, and thank God \u2013 I\u2019m still reeling from the morning. When the day ends with another sharing circle, I talk about what I\u2019ve experienced and my unexpected feelings of anger on their behalf. I\u2019ve not even spoken to everyone individually, yet I feel so connected to these women. Many others mention collective emotions too, how they felt like we entered as individuals but leave with these shared feelings. It is clear we have all been craving a release for our fury \u2013 some of us without realising it \u2013 and being given the space has unlocked something. I don\u2019t think it necessarily needs to be in a structured, paid-for workshop, it could be a space you make with friends or loved ones. But something about the anonymity of the Love Your Rage workshop certainly made it easier for a relative beginner like me.<\/p>\n
As we wrap up for the day, the facilitators warn that we might experience what they call a \u201cvulnerability hangover\u201d, or shame or regret at having shared so much so freely. This can happen \u201cas a side-effect of stepping out of our comfort zone and being witnessed in our raw expression\u201d, they write in a follow-up email, adding that we have nothing to feel dread about. I can\u2019t speak for the other participants, but it\u2019s something I manage to avoid. Sure, my calves ache all weekend like I\u2019ve badly paced myself on a 5K (I blame all the jumping), but there\u2019s no sense of anguish or humiliation present.<\/p>\n
In fact, it\u2019s not until this moment that I\u2019ve been able to put the experience of being allowed to express an unfelt emotion into words. I haven\u2019t unleashed a river of inner rage, but something has become unwedged. The woo-sceptic in me shudders a bit writing that, but I leave a little less cynical; a tad more woo-curious than I was before. I\u2019m not saying I\u2019m planning on punching pillows or angrily ecstatic dancing any time soon, but I wouldn\u2019t be raging if I did.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Your support helps us to tell the story From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it’s investigating the financials of Elon Musk’s pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, ‘The A Word’, which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging. At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story. The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it. Your support makes all the difference. Read more When was the last time you felt angry? Actually, that\u2019s the wrong question. When was the last time you felt angry \u2013 like, a screaming, wailing kind of anger \u2013 and really let it out? It\u2019s an early Saturday morning in May, and as I put these questions to myself on the Tube to north London, I draw a blank. I see myself as being pretty in tune with my emotions, yet anger isn\u2019t one I ever really experience. Today might change that, I think, and my stomach churns nervously. Google Maps leads me to a very nice but very normal home in a residential area near Alexandra Palace. Yet as I step through the door and am hit with the heady scent of incense and the sound of gongs \u2013 I spy \u200ba cabinet brimming with gemstones, too \u2013 it becomes clear that this place will require me to let go of my cynicism towards all things hippie. I\u2019m here for a \u201cwomen\u2019s anger transformation day retreat\u201d run by Love Your Rage, a group of spiritual practitioners helping women harness their fury. I soon realise I have no idea what I\u2019ve let myself in for. …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":819,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[2],"tags":[],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.seekyourlove.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/818"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.seekyourlove.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.seekyourlove.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.seekyourlove.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.seekyourlove.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=818"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.seekyourlove.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/818\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.seekyourlove.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/819"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.seekyourlove.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=818"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.seekyourlove.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=818"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.seekyourlove.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=818"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}