Anger and intimacy, what happens when we suppress the dragon

A small green shoot emerging through cracked dry earth, illuminated by warm golden light.

Most of us were taught, one way or another, that anger is wrong or dangerous. Something to manage, suppress, or work through as quickly as possible. Something that makes us difficult, destructive, or out of control.

What we were rarely taught is what to do with the energy when we push it down.

What suppressed anger does to the body

Anger that has nowhere to go, does not disappear. It settles into the body as tension in the jaw and shoulders, as a low hum of frustration that never quite resolves, as exhaustion that sleep does not touch. Over time it can become numbness, a kind of shutdown that affects not only mood but the capacity for pleasure, connection and intimacy.

It is very hard to feel open, alive and present with another person when the body is quietly holding years of unexpressed feeling. The energy that suppressed anger occupies, and it occupies a great deal, is energy that cannot go toward joy, desire or closeness.

The forgiveness problem

We are often told to forgive, to move on, to choose love over anger. This is well-meaning advice. But it skips something essential: what do we do with the energy that is already there, held in the body, from experiences that were genuinely painful or unjust?

Telling someone to let go of anger without giving them a way to safely meet and move it is a little like telling someone to empty a room without opening the door. The instruction makes sense in theory. In practice, the room stays full.

Anger as a source of energy

Through my own experience and years of clinical work, I have come to understand anger very differently. Not as something toxic to be eliminated, but as a form of energy, one that, when met with curiosity and safety rather than fear, can become a genuine source of power, clarity and aliveness.

This is particularly true in psychosexual therapy, where anger is often deeply intertwined with shame, desire, and the sense of having lost, or never quite found, one’s own voice and boundaries. Learning to meet anger in the body, to understand where it comes from and what it is trying to protect, is often one of the most liberating parts of the therapeutic process.

This is not about becoming destructive or losing control. It is about learning to feel what is true, express it safely, and reclaim the energy that has been locked away in suppression.

What becomes possible

When anger is no longer something to be afraid of, something shifts. The body begins to soften in places it has held tight for years. Emotions that felt dangerous become information. And the capacity for genuine intimacy, with others and with oneself, quietly grows.

Anger, met well, can become one of the most honest and life-giving forces you carry. That is the alchemy of this work.

© 2026 Barbora Koblizkova. All rights reserved.