Anger can feel like a heavy weight sometimes, like it’s sitting right in your chest, ready to explode—or maybe more like it’s simmering quietly in the background. When you’ve experienced trauma, anger often gets tangled up in ways that are hard to make sense of. It can be overwhelming, confusing, and even scary. But it’s important to know that anger, in and of itself, isn’t bad. It’s part of being human. And if you’ve been through something traumatic, your anger makes sense. It’s a response to something being wrong, unfair, or unsafe.
When you think about anger, you might associate it with a sense of loss of control or even shame. But let’s flip that narrative a bit. Anger is a signal. It’s your mind and body saying, “Something here needs attention.” Maybe it’s telling you that a boundary was crossed, or it’s helping you process grief or fear. For many people who’ve experienced trauma, anger might be one of the first emotions that surfaces because it’s protective—it’s like a shield your brain uses to keep you safe.
At the same time, we can experience a fear of being judged for anger. Maybe you’ve felt like people see anger as “too much” or “unacceptable.” Maybe you’ve been told things like, “Why are you so sensitive?” or “You need to calm down,” when all you were doing was expressing how you felt. It makes sense that we hide our anger, worried we'll be labeled as difficult, irrational, or even dangerous.
This fear of judgment can be especially strong for trauma survivors. You might already feel disconnected or like you have to work harder to be “acceptable” to others. Anger, in this context, can feel like one more thing that makes you vulnerable to rejection or misunderstanding. But here’s the truth: anger isn’t something to be ashamed of. It’s a valid emotional response, just like sadness or joy.
Right now, there’s a lot happening in the world that can make anger feel even more present. From systemic injustices to the constant news of crises, it’s not just personal struggles that ignite this emotion--it’s a collective sense of frustration, helplessness, or even outrage. If you’ve felt a spike in anger lately, you’re not alone, and you’re not “overreacting.” Sometimes anger is how our systems cry out for justice.
For trauma survivors, anger can also get complicated by the messages they’ve received. Maybe you were taught to suppress it, to push it down because “good people don’t get angry.” Or maybe you’ve had experiences where expressing anger led to rejection or punishment. When that happens, anger doesn’t just go away. It gets stuck. It might show up in ways you don’t expect—like snapping at loved ones, struggling with sleep, or feeling like you’re carrying around constant tension.
One of the hardest things about dealing with anger is giving yourself permission to feel it without judging it. That’s easier said than done, I know. But anger doesn’t have to control you, and it doesn’t have to burn you out. It’s about figuring out what’s underneath it. Sometimes, it’s pain. Sometimes, it’s fear. And sometimes, it’s a deep desire for things to be different.
Anger is often trying to tell us something important. When you sit with it, when you listen to it, it can guide you toward what matters most to you—whether it’s healing from the past or fighting for a better future. And when you pair that with compassion for yourself, you can start to untangle it, bit by bit.
I just want you to know that it's okay to sometimes not feel okay. It's okay to feel anger. Sit with it, feel it, understand it. Anger has a purpose and it'll tell you what its purpose  is if you give it space to tell you.

Your shadow self is the part of you that you’ve buried or hidden away, often without even realizing it, since you were a child. When we’re young, we absorb countless messages from the people we love about what parts of us are “good” and what parts are “bad.” Maybe you were praised for being polite or for sharing your toys, or perhaps you heard things like, “Don’t be selfish,” or “Good kids don’t act that way.” As children, we don’t yet have the ability to step back and decide what to take personally. Everything feels like it’s about us, and we internalize it all.

If someone we deeply love and depend on tells us we’re being bad or doing something wrong, we might start to believe that there’s something inherently wrong with us. To protect ourselves, we try to focus on the traits that earn love and approval—like being helpful, agreeable, or quiet. At the same time, we might start pushing down other parts of ourselves—our wants, needs, or feelings—especially if we were punished or shamed for expressing them. For example, maybe you learned early on that expressing anger wasn’t acceptable, or that crying too much made people uncomfortable. Over time, you might have hidden those emotions to fit in and feel safe.

As these messages pile up, they start to form the beliefs we hold about ourselves. We might believe we’re only lovable when we’re accommodating, or that wanting things for ourselves is selfish. These beliefs become so ingrained that we rarely stop to question them. But here’s the truth: just because you believe something doesn’t mean it’s true. Many of the stories we carry about ourselves are based on misunderstandings or on someone else’s subjective opinions. Recognizing this can be a powerful step toward freeing ourselves from these limiting beliefs.

This process often happens without us realizing it, and it’s shaped by the messages we receive. For some of us, those messages were direct and harsh—like being scolded or punished for wanting attention, for being “too much,” or for having big emotions. As a result, we create a kind of mask, or false self, to protect us and keep others happy. This mask becomes our way of surviving, but it can also keep us disconnected from who we really are.

It’s important to understand that the shadow self doesn’t just hold what we might call “negative” traits. It can also include beautiful and creative parts of us that weren’t nurtured or celebrated. Think about a child who loves to draw or sing but grows up in a household where academic success is prioritized. They might hear things like, “Stop wasting time,” or “Focus on what really matters,” and begin to believe that their artistic passions aren’t valuable. Over time, they may disconnect from those parts of themselves, tucking away talents and joys that felt dismissed or unimportant.
When we’re unaware of our shadow self, it has a way of showing up in how we see and judge others. For example, if you find yourself quick to label someone as selfish or arrogant, it might be worth reflecting on whether those traits exist in some small way within you—and whether you’ve been denying or avoiding them. It’s a hard truth to sit with, but the things that irritate us most about others often point to parts of ourselves that we’ve disowned. Sometimes, we even overcompensate by doing the opposite, like going out of our way to prove how generous or humble we are, as a way of avoiding our own discomfort.

This projection isn’t limited to the so-called “bad” traits, either. We also project positive qualities onto others. Maybe you’ve admired someone so much that they seem larger than life, like they’ve got it all figured out. It’s easy to forget that the qualities you see in them—their confidence, kindness, creativity—also exist within you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to recognize them in the first place. When we do the work of exploring our shadow self, we can start to see and reclaim those hidden strengths and gifts in ourselves.

At its core, your shadow self isn’t something to fear or avoid. It’s a part of you that’s longing to be seen and accepted. When we take the time to gently acknowledge and integrate these hidden parts—both the messy, complicated pieces and the beautiful, creative ones—we become more whole. Meeting your shadow self is really about meeting your full humanity. It’s about holding space for every part of who you are, even the parts you’ve been taught to hide. And as you learn to embrace all of yourself, you’ll find it becomes much easier to offer that same compassion and acceptance to others. This is the path to living as your fully expressed, authentic self.
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Yes, it’s vulnerable work, and it takes courage. But the rewards—a deeper connection to yourself and to the world around you—are so worth it.

Why Do I Feel so Jealous??
 
Do you ever just get these feelings of jealousy when friends do something without you or when you feel left out and unseen by people you value highly? I know how hard and uncomfortable jealousy can be, but it’s often misunderstood. While jealousy may seem like a petty or irrational emotion- something that only happens when someone is insecure or selfish- for people with childhood trauma, jealousy may instead be touching on old wounds and unmet needs from the past.

How Jealousy Shows Up
Particularly for those of us who experienced trauma in childhood, jealousy can reflect deeper fears and long-held beliefs about love, worth, and belonging.
In relationships, you might find yourself feeling intensely jealous when your partner interacts with someone else, especially if they are close friends or colleagues. This isn't just about fear of infidelity; it can feel like a fear of abandonment, a fear that the love and attention you've always craved might be pulled away at any moment. In some cases, it reflects a deep insecurity about whether you’re truly valued, a feeling that you’ve carried with you for as long as you remember.
Jealous feelings can also come up in friendships. You might feel like you’re being left behind, whether it's seeing a friend form a new bond or feeling like you’re not as important to them as you used to be. For folks with childhood trauma, this often stems from a history of feeling overlooked or unloved, making the fear of being replaced or abandoned feel overwhelming.
Sometimes, jealousy shows up internally, perhaps when you see someone else achieving something you want or having something you think you’ll never have. This feeling of inadequacy may come from childhood, where love, approval, or success were tied to conditions or were inconsistently given. Jealousy in these cases might feel like a reminder of your own perceived shortcomings.

So why does this happen?
When you experience trauma in childhood—whether it's neglect, emotional abuse, or being parentified (put in a position where you're forced to take on adult responsibilities too early), it can leave lasting scars. These wounds shape how you see yourself and the world around you, and jealousy can emerge as a symptom of the deeper pain you're carrying.
For someone who grew up with inconsistent or unreliable caregivers, there’s often a deep, underlying fear of abandonment - that those who love them will eventually leave. This fear can amplify feelings of jealousy, as the possibility of being replaced or discarded feels too familiar.
Trauma can create a sense of emotional deprivation—like there was never enough affection, attention, or validation growing up. As a result, when someone experiences a sense of being “left out” or “not enough,” jealousy can arise as an emotional response to that lack. In these cases, the jealousy might not even be about the other person—it’s about the unmet emotional need that’s being triggered.
Childhood trauma can also create deep-seated feelings of low self-worth. When you feel unworthy of love, success, or attention, seeing someone else experience those things can stir up jealousy. It’s not just about wanting what they have, but about not being sure that you even deserve it for yourself.

So what can you do? It’s hard. You can still do it.
The hardest part of emotions is accepting them. It’s easy to beat yourself up for feeling jealous, but it’s important to approach the feeling with compassion. Jealousy doesn’t make you a bad person—it’s just an emotion, and it’s telling you something about your deeper fears or unmet needs. Acknowledging the feeling is the first step toward healing it.
Try to dig deeper into where your jealousy is coming from. Are there past wounds being triggered? Is there a fear of abandonment or not being good enough? Journaling or talking to a therapist about these feelings can help you make sense of them and understand their roots.
Trauma often leads to the belief that you’re not worthy of love or success, but these beliefs aren’t facts—they’re just patterns formed by past experiences. Begin to question these beliefs by reminding yourself of your value and accomplishments. It will take time, but learning to see your own value can decrease the feelings that jealousy is rooted in.
In relationships, it’s important to communicate about feelings of jealousy, especially if they’re triggered by past wounds. Talking about your feelings can bring understanding and reassurance from your partner or friends, which can help ease the fears that fuel jealousy.
Hardest of all, you may need to engage in self-compassion. Healing from childhood trauma is a journey, and part of that is learning to be kind to yourself when emotions like jealousy arise. Remember that you’re working to unlearn old patterns, and it's okay to experience setbacks along the way. Be gentle with yourself.