A personal essay  ·  Mental health, relationships & the things we carry

Nobody ever wins in a conflict between family, friends, or the people we love. We just walk away convinced that we did — and that distance is where the real damage lives.

I cannot tell you how many arguments I have been in with my family. I stopped counting long ago. What I can tell you is that they were loud — the kind of loud that carries across a quiet rural New Hampshire neighborhood without trying. The kind of loud that you remember not for what was said, but for how it sat in your chest long after the words were gone.

And here is the thing I have come to understand about every single one of those arguments: not one of them had a winner. They happened. They were real and they were fierce, and I am certain that each of us walked away convinced we had come out on top. But nobody ever truly wins in a conflict between family, or friends, or anyone you genuinely care about. What you win is distance. What you win is the slow erosion of something that mattered.

You have probably heard the expression — having a monkey on your back. It is an old way of describing a burden you cannot seem to shake, something that rides you no matter how far you go or how fast you move. For those of us who live with anxiety and depression, I believe that monkey has a particular face. More often than not, it looks like anger.

“Our minds are already so full of the things we cannot control — the problems we are facing, the tasks still undone, the gap between where we are and where we need to be. When something threatens to widen that gap, anger is the first thing that shows up at the door.”

That is the cruel logic of it. When your mind is running a constant background process of worry and self-doubt and the quiet dread that comes with depression, your threshold for frustration is already worn thin. You are not operating from a place of calm. You are operating from a place of barely-managed overwhelm. So when something — or someone — gets between you and some small sense of stability or control, the anger does not just arrive. It erupts.

I want to be clear about something, because I think it matters. Anger is not unique to those of us who struggle with our mental health. People get angry. It is a human thing, not a broken thing. But in my experience — and I can only speak from my own life — those of us carrying anxiety and depression are far more susceptible to it. The fuse is shorter. The trigger sits closer to the surface. And the anger, when it comes, is often disproportionate to whatever actually caused it, because it is not really about that thing at all. It is about everything that came before it.

That is the monkey’s trick. It does not announce itself. It just makes everything feel more urgent, more personal, more threatening than it might otherwise be. And so we argue. We raise our voices in rural New Hampshire neighborhoods and we say things we do not entirely mean and we walk away thinking we won — when really we just fed the monkey one more time.

Recognizing the anger monkey for what it is does not make it disappear. I will not pretend otherwise. But it does change the conversation you have with yourself afterward. When I look back at those arguments now, I do not see someone who was right or wrong. I see someone who was struggling, and who did not yet have the language or the self-awareness to say so. That person deserved more patience — including from himself.

If any of this sounds familiar to you, I hope you will offer yourself that same patience. The monkey is heavy. You have been carrying it a long time. And the first step toward setting it down — even briefly — is learning to recognize when it is the one doing the talking.TRY THIS

Talking Back to the Anger Monkey

If this essay felt familiar, I want to invite you to spend a few minutes with a simple Cognitive Behavioral Therapy exercise. The goal is not to judge yourself for getting angry. The goal is to become curious about what was happening underneath it.

Find a quiet place, grab a notebook, and think about a recent argument or moment of conflict. Then work through the steps below at whatever pace feels right.

STEP ONE

Describe What Happened

Write down the situation as objectively as you can. Try to stick to the facts rather than interpretations — what actually happened, not what you decided it meant.

  • Who was involved?
  • What happened?
  • What was said or done that triggered your reaction?

STEP TWO

Name the Anger

On a scale of 0 to 100, how intense was your anger in that moment?

0
Completely calm

100
As angry as possible

Write your number down. Don’t second-guess it.

STEP THREE

Listen to the Monkey

Imagine your anger as the monkey described in this essay. What was it saying to you in that moment? Complete the sentence:

“The anger monkey was telling me that…”

  • Nobody respects me.
  • I cannot deal with one more problem.
  • Everything is falling apart.
  • They should know better.

Write down whatever comes — there are no wrong answers here.

STEP FOUR

Look Beneath the Anger

Anger is often the most visible emotion in the room, but rarely the only one. Ask yourself: what was I feeling underneath it?

AnxietyFearHurtSadnessExhaustionShameDisappointmentOverwhelmLoss of control

Circle or write down any that apply. Then ask yourself one more question:

What was I afraid this situation meant about me, or about the people involved?Write your answer down, even if it surprises you.

STEP FIVE

Challenge the Story

Choose the strongest thought you had during the conflict. Now hold it up to the light and ask:

  • What evidence supports this thought?
  • What evidence does not support it?
  • If a close friend were describing this same situation, would I see it the exact same way?

Then write a more balanced version of the thought — not to dismiss what you felt, but to widen the frame.

FOR EXAMPLE

Instead of “They don’t care about me” — try: “I am feeling hurt right now, but one argument does not tell the whole story of this relationship.”

STEP SIX

Count the Cost

As this essay suggests, nobody truly wins a conflict with someone they love. So ask yourself honestly:

  • What was I trying to win?
  • What did this argument actually cost me?

Perhaps it cost peace. Connection. Trust. A good evening that could have gone differently. There is no judgment in naming it — only honesty.Write down your answer.

STEP SEVEN

Practice Self-Compassion

Read back everything you have written. Now try this: imagine that the person who experienced all of that stress, frustration, and pain was not you — but someone you love deeply.

What would you say to them?Write those words down. Then read them back to yourself slowly.

REFLECTION

One Final Question

What if the next time the anger monkey shows up, I treated it as information instead of a command?

You do not have to get rid of the monkey today. You do not have to carry it perfectly. The first step is simply learning to recognize when it is the one doing the talking — and choosing, in that moment, to pause before you answer.

This blog is rooted entirely in personal lived experience. I am not a therapist or a clinician — just someone who has been in the thick of it and found that writing things down helps. If you are struggling, please reach out to someone you trust, or a mental health professional who can offer the support I cannot.

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There is a voice in your head that knows exactly what to say to hurt you.

It knows your fears. Your failures. Your most vulnerable moments. It has been collecting them your entire life — and it uses all of them against you. The worst part? It sounds exactly like you.

But it isn’t.

The Voices Aren’t You is written by someone who has been at the wall — who has fought through surgeries, medication experiments, depression, trauma, and years of a life quietly managed by the inner critic rather than himself. This is not a book written from a safe distance. It is written from inside the experience, with the hard-won tools of someone who is still in the game.