Describe one positive change you have made in your life.

It’s funny, the things you think matter in the moment.

The red mist.
The clenched jaw.
That urge to snap back, louder, sharper… just to prove a point.

I used to live there more than I care to admit.

Not all the time, mind you—I’m not some permanently raging bull—but enough that it left its mark. Enough that a bad five minutes could ruin an entire day. Or worse, spill over onto people who didn’t deserve it.

And here’s the thing I’ve learned (the hard way, obviously—because that’s how most of us learn anything worth keeping):

Getting angry doesn’t change what’s already happened.

Not one bit.

You can replay it.
You can argue with it in your head.
You can even “win” the argument ten different ways…

But reality just sits there, arms folded, completely unimpressed.

As I’ve gotten older—and perhaps a little bit wiser, or at least more tired—I’ve started to realise something else too.

Anger isn’t just useless… it’s heavy.

It clings to you.

It follows you around like a bad smell, turning one small (often insignificant) moment into something far bigger than it ever needed to be. And before you know it, you’re carrying it into the next conversation, the next hour, the next day.

And for what?

The situation hasn’t changed.
The past hasn’t rewritten itself.

All that’s changed… is you.

There’s a quiet sort of freedom in recognising that.

A sort of… letting go.

Not in a grand, dramatic, “I’ve reached enlightenment on a mountain” kind of way. Nothing like that. More like standing there, mid-annoyance, and thinking:

“Is this actually worth it?”

Most of the time… it isn’t.

So now, when I feel that familiar spark starting up, I try—keyword being try—to pause. Take a breath. Let it pass through rather than explode outward.

Because emotions are a bit like weather. They come, they go. Storms included.

No point shouting at the rain.

And I won’t pretend I’ve mastered it. Far from it. I still have my moments. I still get it wrong. But compared to how I used to be… it’s a change. A positive one.

A quieter one.

And, if I’m honest, a kinder one too—both to myself and to everyone else caught in the crossfire.

Turns out, peace isn’t found in winning every argument.

Sometimes, it’s found in deciding not to have it in the first place.

Stay safe,
BC