That person doesn't get angry.
Even if someone says something a bit rude at a drinking party, they just smile with their glass in hand. "It’s fine, I don’t mind," they say with a wave of their hand, and before they know it, their role has become softening the atmosphere of the place.
Even on the train home, their expression doesn't change.
People think of them as a calm person. Perhaps even they themselves believe that.
However, one day. Contact suddenly stops. They don't even show as "read." Before you know it, you're blocked.
The other person is stunned and says, "Eh, why? Did I do something?"
You did. You did a lot. It’s just that the person never said a word.
This might be your story.
I’ll write about it.
It’s not that they aren't angry. They’re just accumulating it.
There are people who "don't get angry." But to be precise, it's not that they aren't angry. It's not that anger doesn't arise; it's just that the circuit to express it on the spot is closed.
Things they disliked, moments they felt offended, the words they actually wanted to say back. Every time such things surface, you reflexively swallow them. You smile, brush it off, and act like it didn't happen. And you think it has disappeared.
It hasn't disappeared.
The amount you swallow accumulates drop by drop somewhere in your body. Like adding a little water every day to a transparent cup.
Twenty percent. You still don't notice. Fifty percent. You're still smiling. Around the time it exceeds eighty percent, for some reason, opening a LINE message from that person becomes a bit of a chore. You can't quite explain the reason yourself. You just sigh when you see the screen.
And then, one day, the final drop falls.
The moment it overflows, what you do is not a discussion. It is disposal. Blocking, resigning, moving, cutting off contact. You throw away the entire accumulated cup, contents and all.
From the outside, it looks "sudden." But for you, it’s "finally."
Why can't you say it on the spot?
Just try to remember for a moment.
When you got angry as a child, what happened? Were you listened to properly? Or did getting angry just make things more troublesome?
You were dismissed with a "be quiet." You were silenced with "don't talk back." If you showed you were sulking, you were treated even more coldly than before.
Perhaps the act of getting angry itself was scary. A house where someone was always shouting and things would occasionally fly. In such a place, a child expressing emotions was directly linked to danger.
In that kind of environment, the way a child learns to survive is usually decided by one thing.
Not getting angry.
The child who didn't get angry was safe. The child who didn't make waves was overlooked. So, you very seriously decided deep in your heart:
"If I express anger, I will lose."
This isn't your personality. It's like the first article of a contract you wrote and signed yourself to survive that house.
The troublesome part is that this contract is still valid today. Even as an adult, at work, or in romance, you continue to dutifully follow this clause.
You are truly admirable. However, because of that diligence, you don't last long with people.
Anger is not evil
People who can get angry properly on the spot are not bad-tempered or short-tempered. Those people are just saying it properly at the twenty percent mark.
"That was a bit unpleasant just now."
"I'd like you to stop that."
They release it lightly, briefly, and on the spot. So it doesn't accumulate. It doesn't reach fifty or eighty percent. Naturally, it doesn't overflow.
Anger is actually an emotion that is okay to release frequently.
Like body temperature, it's something you let out a little bit every day.
But you tightly closed that lever for releasing it bit by bit while you were a child.
For people who have closed the lever, there is only 0 or 100. Either smiling brightly or cutting ties completely. The scale of "a little unpleasant" that should exist in between is entirely missing.
That's why it always looks sudden to those around you, and even you feel it's sudden. Even though you've actually been accumulating it for six months, even you are bewildered, thinking, "Why is this so impossible for me now?"
Why does this come out most in "romance"?
In work, you can still fake it. Because money and contracts are sandwiched in between. No matter how much you dislike someone, it ends when the clock hits five, and you can get through it by wearing your professional mask.
Romance doesn't work that way. Because the distance is close, and small "dislikes" are born every day as you face each other.
The way towels are folded. The lateness of replies. That slight way of speaking in front of others. Each one is only twenty percent. If you said, "I actually dislike that," on the spot, it would be settled.
But you can't say it.
"If I get angry over such a small thing, I'll be thought of as a troublesome woman" or "I'll be hated."
The aforementioned contract immediately whispers in your ear. So you swallow it. You swallow it and smile, and swallow it again.
As six months pass like that, the other person notices nothing, while only the cup inside you is quietly full.
The breakup talk is always brought up abruptly.
To the other person, it's a bolt from the blue. But for you, it's a conclusion that was decided long ago.
What you need to do is not "become able to get angry." It's to "read the clauses."
"Let's express our emotions more honestly."
That probably works the least.
In the first place, you've contracted not to express them.
Even if you try to force them out with willpower, when the moment comes, your mouth will automatically move to say, "It's fine, no problem."
A circuit you've used for decades cannot be overwritten by sheer guts.
There is only one thing to do.
Take the clause you are clutching, bring it out of your head, and put it into words.
"If I express anger, I will lose."
See this single sentence clearly with your own eyes.
When you can see it, a mysterious thing happens.
The next time a "little unpleasant" thing comes, you can stop for just a moment. You can notice, "Ah, the contract is moving now."
If you can notice it, then for the first time, you can choose. Whether to swallow it as before, or to try saying just one light word while it's still at twenty percent.
Things that are not visible cannot be removed. The moment it becomes visible, you can finally get a handle on it.
Those clauses can be divided into roughly 12 types
After looking at many people's patterns for years, I've realized something. The survival clauses people hold onto are not infinite.
They can be divided into roughly 12 types.
"Being unable to get angry" is one of them. And for every clause, the place where it is most exposed and hurts the most is in romantic situations. Because there is no escape.
So, using romance as the entrance, I have opened up those 12 types without exception. How each one is activated and how it makes people unable to sustain relationships.
To those who have been stuck in the same place for years, wondering, "Why can't I stay with people even though I'm gentle?"
I will leave this here, starting from the point that you are not actually "gentle."
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Finally, one last thing.
You, who suddenly cut ties, are not a cold person.
Rather, you are someone who could endure to the limit, someone who kept trying to forgive the other person until one step before the limit.
You just never showed that endurance meter to the other person or even to yourself. That's all it is.
How to show it is written properly inside that contract you wrote when you were a child.
Oryon
