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Cooler days call for layers that last, and for me, Quince is the place to get them.
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Hey friends, it's Rosie here.
Welcome to Radio Headspace.
So the other night, Tori and I got into a fight.
Nothing dramatic, no screaming, no storming out.
Just a simmering, low-grade, couples-who-share-internet-space-too-much kind of fight.
I'm trying to wind down after a long day.
I've got my tea, I'm in my comfy clothes and I'm feeling kind of proud because I didn't work past 5pm for once.
I'm scrolling Pinterest like a 90s teenager, flipping through Adelia's catalog, when ding another reel from Tori.
Now listen, we all have very different Instagram energy.
He loves sending me reels daily.
Reels about dogs, reels about music, which is fine if they're short.
But reels that are four minutes long that never get to a point?
It's a bit agitating.
I, on the other hand, am very picky about my digital real estate.
I want short, punchy, and ideally something that makes me laugh in the first 10 seconds.
I've told him this gently, lovingly, multiple times.
But that night was my limit.
I clicked on the reel.
It was 3 minutes and 42 seconds of some guy explaining something Tori had already told me about earlier in the day.
I snapped.
I blocked him.
Yeah, my own partner.
On Instagram.
Now before you judge me too hard, let me just say, it was temporary.
I unblocked him 12 minutes later.
But in those 12 minutes...
I felt deeply justified.
Because here's the thing.
I wasn't mad about the real.
I was tired, overstimulated, feeling unheard.
And instead of saying that, I hit the digital equivalent of slamming the door.
And that, my friends, is what not to do when you're mad.
For a long time, I didn't think I was an angry person.
I thought I had transcended rage...
I use words like compassionate reframe and neutral observer.
But let's be real.
What I actually did was bury my anger under layers of mindfulness performance and nervous laughter.
I'd feel a flare of resentment and respond with, it's fine.
Meanwhile, I'd go home and rage clean our house like the baseboards owed me an apology.
Here's what I've learned.
Anger is not the enemy.
Anger says, something's not right.
Anger says, a boundary got crossed.
Anger says, you need to listen to this.
The problem isn't the anger.
The problem is when we react from it instead of with it.
Because when we don't pause, we say things we don't mean.
We block our boyfriends on Instagram.
We spiral in texts.
We slam doors, literal and digital.
So here's what I try to do now.
And the key word, my friends, is try.
When I feel the heat rising, I step away.
I take five full breaths, not those little shallow ones.
Deep, nervous system resetting breaths.
And then I asked, what boundary just got crossed?
What am I actually trying to protect?
What would this emotion say if I gave it a microphone and no judgment?
Because underneath every angry outburst is usually a very tender need that didn't feel heard.
In my case with Tori, I wasn't just annoyed about reels.
I was craving presence.
I wanted connection without more screens.
And instead of saying that clearly, I let anger do the talking.
And she's not always the best communicator.
In the end, I did apologize.
I unblocked him, texted him a gif of a sloth holding a heart and said sorry, I went full.
Digital squirth urge.
I was overwhelmed.
Let's talk.
And we did.
And he got it.
And now we've agreed.
No reels after work.
Nothing over two minutes.
So if you're feeling some anger about something currently, try this.
Step away.
Take a few deep breaths.
Ask your anger what it needs, not what it wants to destroy.
And if you've already done something regrettable, it's okay.
Unblock, apologize, reset.
We're human.
We're learning.
And if you're looking for some extra guidance, check out the Transforming Anger course in the app.
That's it for today, friends.
If you've ever rage blocked someone or had a digital meltdown over something, DM me at Rosie Acosta.
I'll see you back here soon.
