At least I know I’m still alive…that’s the one great thing about post-breakup anger.

You want him dead…well, maybe suffer some agonizing disfigurement…you can’t say his name without spitting it and you want to harangue every happy couple you see on the street. Not very nice, but it beats being numb and limp.

Rage gives me edge, keeps my blood pumping, gives me a reason to get up in the morning. In fact, we live in a culture that encourages us to express our anger; doctors and therapists agree that repressed anger hurts our psyches and bodies. We’re supposed to let it out.

But raw, primal rage has its limits.

So we smash every plate in the kitchen and rip up every last picture of him-all we’re left with is a mess. Cathartic but not constructive.

Moving forward is what we ultimately want to do.

One way to start is to acknowledge the anger and fantasize revenge, and then forgive yourself for feeling that way. You’re allowed these feelings- you’ve lost so much, and you’re so tired, disappointed, and wounded that you want someone else to hurt.

Reveling in rage can give you the will to live again…but clinging to anger only warps your own heart. You have to move beyond anger if you want to recover completely, that is, if you want to become a trusting, caring person again.