Бесплатный фрагмент - Edgy

Chapter 1: Press Pause on Your Anger

My therapist once told me about a patient who lived his life on edge, every little thing setting him off, until one day, something unexpected shifted his entire perspective. This guy, he said, was like a real-life Mad Max, always battling it out on the road. To him, other drivers were not just bad at driving, they were idiots, thoughtless jerks, obstacles in his way. It wasn’t just annoying; it felt personal. Every time someone sped past him or parked crookedly, it was like the universe was conspiring against him. It wore him down, turning every commute into a war zone. He couldn’t just let it go. In his mind, someone had to put these people in their place, maybe teach them a lesson or at least remind them that there were rules to follow.

One ordinary day, something unexpected happened that forever shifted his perspective and dissolved the bitterness that had quietly consumed him. He was driving home, simmering with the typical frustrations of rush hour, when a car aggressively cut him off at a traffic light. Outraged, he gave in to the surge of anger, tailing the offender with the intent to confront. As fate would have it, he pulled up beside the car at the next light, ready to unleash his fury. But what he saw made his breath catch; sitting behind the wheel was his uncle, a frail man battling health issues, his hands unsteady but still gentle, his eyes still kind. The recognition stopped him cold, turning his road rage into bewilderment.

Why had he felt such intense anger toward someone he knew and loved? The answer lies in the fundamental principle of self-regulation: the power of choice in how we respond. This is the essence of being proactive, a concept woven through many self-help philosophies. It reminds us that, between an event and our reaction, there is a space. A fleeting moment in which we can choose to act with intention rather than impulse. When we are reactive, we forfeit that choice, allowing fear, frustration, or unchecked desire to dictate our actions. But if, in that crucial moment, you can step back and consider that perhaps the person driving erratically is tired, unfamiliar with the road, or, like his uncle, someone deserving of compassion, then you’ve unlocked the power of proactivity.

Of course, it’s one thing to know that reacting immediately often leads us astray, and quite another to practice restraint. Yet this is the first step we must take. The uncle’s story serves as a reminder that our initial reactions can deceive us, stirring unnecessary chaos in our minds. We are not bound to follow them; we can pause, reflect, and let the storm pass. The world and its provocations will still be there, but by delaying our response, we gain control, reclaiming our peace in the process.

Here’s a simple yet powerful strategy for managing your anger: delay it. If you’re someone who tends to procrastinate or struggles with remembering tasks, this approach can play to your strengths. I won’t linger too long on the mechanics of this technique, but there are a few key points to highlight.

First, choose a specific time to unleash that frustration. Let’s say you’re about to snap at your child or reprimand an employee for slacking off. Instead of suppressing the urge entirely, promise yourself that you’ll handle it later. Just not right now. For instance, tell yourself you’ll let it all out after the weekend, tonight at 9 p.m., or even tomorrow morning. If it helps, set a reminder. By the time your chosen moment arrives, the intensity of your anger will likely have faded, because let’s face it, staying that furious for an extended period is exhausting.

Here’s how to put this into practice step by step:

1. When you feel yourself on the verge of losing control, delay the outburst.

2. Pick a precise time when you’ll allow yourself to express that anger.

3. When that time comes, you’ll likely realize you no longer feel the same level of intensity, or you’ve forgotten about it entirely. Either way, congratulations. You’ve just defused a potential explosion. That’s the art of self-regulation in action, and yes, every self-help guru out there would be giving you a round of applause.

This simple act of postponing an emotional reaction creates space for clarity and often leads to the realization that what seemed urgent in the heat of the moment wasn’t worth the energy after all.

Chapter 2: Distancing Yourself from Your Thoughts

Have you seen «Jojo Rabbit»? If not, I highly recommend it. The film follows a young boy immersed in the Hitler Youth, grappling with the indoctrination of Nazi ideology. His imaginary friend is Adolf Hitler, who boasts about the boy’s accomplishments. The child confides in this fictional version of Hitler about his struggles, including his feelings toward a Jewish girl he despises. But as the story unfolds, his perspective shifts dramatically. When the real Hitler takes his own life in a bunker, the imaginary figure is supplanted by clarity and, ultimately, compassion for that same girl.

It’s a poignant narrative, but it’s not typical. Many people make a common mistake: they equate themselves with their thoughts. They cannot disentangle their identities from the anxious, negative, or distressing ideas swirling in their minds. This inability to separate oneself from those thoughts can lead to troubling actions, as we’ve seen with individuals who act on the harmful «voices» they hear, sometimes resorting to violence or joining destructive cults.

You might think you are above such folly, but let’s be real. Consider the last time you were consumed by anger. What were you thinking in that moment? Perhaps thoughts like «How could they do this?» or «I am such a failure» or «Everything is terrible» ran through your mind. These are the internal dialogues. Those persistent voices that urge you to react with hostility, engage in conflict, or spiral into sadness. In those moments, it’s as if you are letting these thoughts take the reins of your behavior.

It’s akin to reading a horoscope, even if you do not subscribe to such beliefs, and coming across a dire prediction. Or hearing someone in line say, «We are all going to die here.» Would you take such statements seriously, even though they are clearly exaggerated? Most likely not.

The key lies in recognizing that thoughts are just thoughts. They do not define you. By learning to separate yourself from these fleeting ideas, you can reclaim your power and respond with intention rather than impulse.

It sounds strange, doesn’t it? Are there really thoughts that don’t belong to us? Let’s put it to the test. Sit still, close your eyes, and try to think of nothing. Absolutely nothing, just for a few minutes. Almost immediately, you’ll notice random thoughts start bubbling up. They appear out of nowhere, uninvited, and they seem to drift into your mind without any effort on your part. It’s not that you’re losing your mind; people usually think on purpose, create their own ideas, and make deliberate choices. But those sudden, knee-jerk thoughts we discussed earlier? Those don’t really belong to you. They just show up, unexpected and unannounced. And sometimes, they push you toward bad decisions. So, staying calm hinges on one key factor: whether or not you listen to those intruding «voices.»

Here’s the thing: you don’t need to spend hours dissecting where these thoughts come from. Sure, you could analyze why you have a deep-seated resentment toward certain groups of people. Maybe it’s old folks or salespeople, but unless you’ve got extra time and a stash of cash for therapy, it might not be worth the deep dive. And honestly, it might not even be your fault. You might have absorbed these ideas from the people around you. Your family, friends, or even TV, much like the boy in «Jojo Rabbit.» But ask yourself, what would you do with that knowledge anyway? The real trick is not necessarily understanding where your thoughts originate, but learning to separate your authentic self from the random, reactive stuff that pops into your head.

Just last week, I told my wife about a guy who nearly ran me over in a crosswalk, speeding off without a second thought. I was rattled, but instead of letting the anger take over, I tried to approach it from a different angle. I said, «Maybe he wasn’t being a jerk. Maybe he was rushing because his wife was sick or his kid was in a school play.» It was a bit of mental gymnastics, part of the therapeutic tools I’d learned, and I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. But my wife, always keeping it real, said, «Or maybe he really is a jerk.»

Her words hit me. She was right. Even if he had an excuse, his actions were reckless. He could have seriously hurt someone. He clearly didn’t care about the safety of pedestrians or other drivers. Isn’t that the very definition of being a jerk? Absolutely. But then another thought crept in: what should I do about it? Should I let this one moment ruin my day, robbing me of peace? Should I seek revenge, track him down, and try to teach him a lesson? Would any of that truly help?

No, no, and no. That initial thought, the one that tried to stir up anger, does not get to decide how I feel or what I do. It doesn’t have the power to make me sad, anxious, or vengeful unless I give it permission. It’s simply a reminder that the world is full of careless people, and I don’t need to get entangled in their chaos. Now that’s a thought I can claim as my own.

Here’s a simple recipe for learning to think for yourself:

1. Start by noticing a thought that triggers anxiety, sadness, or a sense of dread.

2. Rather than trying to shove it aside, approach it with curiosity. Give it space and observe.

3. But this is crucial: don’t follow it. Just because a thought crosses your mind doesn’t mean it has to dictate your mood or pull you into a spiral of nervousness or gloom. Treat it like you would a horoscope: interesting, maybe, but certainly not worth steering your day by.

The essence of this practice is simple: either you control your thoughts, or they start controlling you. They begin shaping your mood, your emotions, and even how you see the world. The key is recognizing that a thought is just a thought. It does not have to define you. Once you understand this, you have already taken an important step toward reclaiming your mental freedom.

Chapter 3. Stepping Back from Your Thoughts

We have already established how crucial it is to keep your distance from that inner critic. The one that’s always ready to tear you down. It’s persuasive, isn’t it? That relentless voice, with its bad attitude, harsh words, and disregard for others, can easily become our own attitude, our words, and our way of treating people.

But there’s a way to break this cycle. It builds on what we discussed earlier but goes a step further. Let me give you an example.

Imagine this: My wife and I get into a taxi, and the driver is visibly irritated. He complains, saying he waited too long for us. «Why call a taxi if you’re not ready?» he mutters under his breath. I’m stunned, insulted even. He’s just the driver, after all, and I’m the customer. How dare he be so rude when he doesn’t know why we were running late? After the ride, I call the taxi company to report him. I don’t want him fired; I just want to prove a point that the customer is always right. Days later, I still replay the scene in my head, imagining snappy comebacks like, «Ever thought about why your job sucks?»

Now, you might be thinking I overreacted, and maybe I did. From your perspective, it probably seems like a minor incident. But I was there, and it felt personal. What you’re experiencing is the benefit of distance, seeing the situation from the outside, with less emotional attachment. That’s exactly how this technique works. The goal is to take a step back, describe the situation from an observer’s point of view, and then assess it with fresh eyes.

Here’s how it works: the next time you face something upsetting, try writing about it in the third person. Picture this as a form of journaling. You can use it for difficult conversations, stressful meetings, or personal challenges. Instead of saying, «I felt angry,» try, «He felt angry» or «She thought the situation was unfair.» For example, «Yesterday, Dmitry and his wife got into a taxi. The driver seemed annoyed, saying he had waited too long. Dmitry was offended, believing the customer should always be treated with respect. He considered calling the taxi company to complain, still replaying the moment in his mind six years later. Now, he sees how insignificant it was in the grand scheme of things.»

After you write it all down, read it back. You might be surprised at how different it looks when viewed from a distance. You might realize you overreacted, or maybe you’ll see it for what it was — something trivial. That’s perfectly fine. The real benefit of this practice is not just in reflecting on the past but in applying this technique in real-time.

When someone irritates you, rather than jumping to conclusions, try rephrasing your thought. Instead of «He’s acting like a jerk,» say, «I’m thinking he’s acting like a jerk,» or «It seems to me that he’s being rude.» This subtle shift can open your mind to the possibility that your assumptions are exaggerated, that your biases are skewing your perception. With an open mind, you can see that uncomfortable or unfair situations might hold some value after all, and that there is no need to let them throw you off course.

The ancient Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius, one of the wisest and most self-aware leaders in history, understood the power of this technique. He kept a journal, writing in the third person as a way to keep himself grounded. It was a reminder, a personal message to be better — to rise above his weaknesses and imperfections. He firmly believed that the quality of your life depends on the quality of your thoughts. In his words, «The mind freed from passions is an impenetrable fortress — there is no more secure place of refuge.»

That is the heart of self-mastery.

Chapter 4: Depersonalization

There was a time when I lived next to the noisiest neighbors. Our schedules could not have been more opposite. They were wide awake when I was trying to sleep, and sound asleep when I was getting ready for my day. For them, nightfall signaled the start of their routine: loud cleaning, heated arguments, even basketball games in the dead of night. To top it off, they’d justify their chaos by saying, «We have kids,» as if that excused everything. Nothing we said ever seemed to change their behavior. Every time I heard the slightest noise from their apartment, my mood would sink. I dreaded the nighttime.

So how did I finally solve this problem? I moved. And, honestly, it was the best decision I could have made. Any therapist will tell you: sometimes, the most effective way to deal with stress is to avoid it altogether. Simple advice, right?

But here’s the twist. One night, shortly after I had moved, I was startled awake by a loud, jarring noise. Instinctively, my mind jumped back to those nights with my noisy neighbors. It had to be them, again, disturbing my peace. In my half-awake state, I imagined confronting them, exposing all their selfish habits, convinced they had no regard for others because of their background. I was ready to unleash all the frustration I had built up over time.

And then I heard it, the unmistakable rumble of thunder. It wasn’t my neighbors at all. Just a storm. The relief I felt was instant. The thunder rolled on, the rain started to fall, and within minutes, I was fast asleep again, soothed by the sound of the rain.

The next day, I was struck by a simple but powerful truth: my anger had been entirely misdirected, triggered by nothing more than my own expectations. It got me thinking — why do we take it so personally when people behave in ways that annoy us? After all, no one would feel personally offended by thunder, or try to control it. So why do we expect people to be any different?

Let me put it like this. Imagine walking down the street and a pigeon drops something unpleasant on your shoulder. You would clean it up, maybe curse your luck, and move on. But if another person were to spit on you, it would feel entirely different, more personal, more insulting. Why? Because we believe people, unlike pigeons, are making conscious choices. When someone wrongs us, we assume intent. We want to prove them wrong, punish them, or at least make them understand the harm they caused. It is much harder to let go of human actions because they feel meaningful, even if they are misguided.

But here’s the catch: what if we could view people’s frustrating behaviors the same way we view nature? Just like the weather or that pigeon, their actions are not really about us. My neighbors weren’t maliciously plotting to ruin my sleep. They were just living their lives, in a way that happened to clash with mine. In truth, they were no different from a storm or a strong wind, something I couldn’t control. By personalizing their actions, I caused myself unnecessary frustration.

This realization led me to a practice I call «depersonalization.» It is a simple shift in perspective that can save you a lot of unnecessary grief. Here’s how it works:

1. First, acknowledge how someone’s actions are affecting you, but without dwelling on how wrong or unfair they seem.

2. Then, try to imagine that person as something non-human, perhaps an animal or a force of nature, something beyond your control. It helps to picture them like a storm passing through. You’ve been caught off guard, but it’s not personal.

3. Finally, accept that there is no point in being offended by their behavior or trying to change them. Just like the weather, people’s unpredictable actions are a reflection of their nature, not a personal attack on you.

In the end, it is not about ignoring the impact others have on us, but about freeing ourselves from the unnecessary weight of taking everything personally.

Chapter 5. What’s Next?

As you reflect on the last chapter, you may realize that what truly overwhelms us isn’t the events or actions of others, but rather the stories we tell ourselves about those events. Our minds spin narratives, weaving judgments and exaggerations that amplify what might otherwise be trivial. We replay conversations, wishing for the perfect comeback that never came. But let’s be honest — this kind of mental gymnastics only keeps us trapped in negativity.

We often think that external situations are what upset us. Yet, it’s our internal dialogue that causes the real distress. Our minds have a knack for blowing things out of proportion, making mountains out of molehills. On paper, it seems easy to just stop overthinking, but in practice, it’s much more challenging. Even the smallest inconveniences. A broken vacuum, a slow driver. They can creep their way under our skin. And that’s not even touching on the larger issues we face, like conflicts with loved ones or tension at work.

The real issue is that we get stuck in the moment, unable to see the bigger picture. It’s almost laughable how, two weeks later, that broken vacuum won’t even register in your mind. Life keeps moving, even when we’re obsessing over tiny details. The key to navigating problems, both big and small, is to ask a simple question: «What’s next?»

Let’s try it with an example.

«The vacuum is broken. What’s next? I’ll need to get it fixed. What’s next? It might be expensive. What’s next? Maybe it’s beyond repair. What’s next? I’ll have to buy a new one. What’s next? It’s a hassle, but I’ll figure it out. What’s next? Eventually, I’ll have a working vacuum again. And life will go on.»