Several months after my decision to let go of my anger, I started seeing Samantha, my therapist, to learn to love better. Slowly, she taught me the basics of healthy communication. To listen more than yell. To assert myself in calm, measured tones. Armed with her techniques, I practiced punching down my anger like a ball of dough, flattening it out. After a couple hundred times, it became a reflex—my eyes unfocused, my voice went flat, and I floated somewhere near the ceiling, far away from the conflict. I let it go.
