Illustration by Mark Monlux

A few years ago, in my late fifties, I realized I was walking around ticked off a lot. I'd always been a cheery person—creative, productive, cooperative, a real people-pleaser. Now I was always in a fighting mood. One day, a company consultant took me aside after a management meeting and gently asked, "What the hell's the matter with you?" I wasn't aware it was so obvious, my pique, and I took off at a gallop on a round of apologies, to bosses and co-workers alike. Get back on your meds, my boss said.

The year before I had been treated for depression after a public tongue-lashing by a corporate boss on a convention floor. I'd become anxious and fearful, given to bouts of spontaneous morning weeping. The antidepressant made all that magically disappear, and I felt fine for a while. But now I was angry, and people were angry at me.

I went back on my meds. I tried to avoid arguments and contrariness. I felt better and safer back on the antidepressant, but I was still mad most of the time. And when I reflected on how quickly I had caved, madder. My relationship with bosses continued to deteriorate.

Of course I see now my behavior was stupid and prickly. They should have fired me. I should have quit. But I was determined not to act impulsively, and my past work was respected. I was permitted to ease myself out. I even helped choose my successor. Still, I flatly refused the perfunctory after-work beer party on my last Friday.

Was it wacky brain chemistry or was my anger justified? Or was I just getting old? Modern medicine and our un-enlightened attitudes about mental health make figuring out situations like this difficult, and I'm working with the same brain that got me in hot water, but I'll give it a try.

Depression is defined two ways— 1) chemically: a shortage of serotonin in the brain; and 2) psychologically: you guessed it, suppressed anger—anger turned against the self. My non-psychological internist treated my depression symptoms with a drug. I didn't go into psychotherapy to work out the emotional content. The medication relieved my symptoms and I went about my business. On my own, I had learned not to suppress my anger, which is good, and I became a pariah at work, not good.

Anger is the no-no emotion. It's natural, and often justified, but it's socially and professionally unacceptable. Beyond fifty, we face an even greater paradox: anger among older people is predictable, and forbidden. Go public with it, even if it's righteous, and you're either in a fight or ostracized. Suppress it and you risk internal injuries.

A 2001 Harvard study reported that angry old men have a three-times-higher risk of heart disease than happy-go-lucky guys.

"...Scientists speculate that anger releases stress hormones into the bloodstream, increases oxygen demand by heart muscle cells, and increases stickiness of blood platelets, leading to blood clots that initiate heart attacks."

On the other hand, in Betty Friedan's monumental, highly readable, and widely ignored 1993 book, The Fountain of Age — a work that's guaranteed to elevate the aging heartbeat, if not make your platelets sticky — Friedan found plenty of evidence of, and justification for, anger among people fifty and beyond. And she discovered a life-giving upside. She tells about an elder AIDS patient under the care of Dr. George Solomon, one of the founders of the science of psycho-neuro-immunology:

"...after being diagnosed, (he) developed a very severe, rapidly advancing lymphoma and was given a week or two to live. He was treated with chemotherapy; two years later, with no signs of lymphoma in his body, he returned to his work as a college professor. In the meantime, he had twice recovered from pneumonia, and had no evidence of the organic brain disease often associated with AIDS. What was happening? 'He is feisty as hell,' Solomon speculated. 'He seeks out treatments. He takes charge of his own care. He doesn't put up with anything. He has the fiercest determination to live.... He has projects, he is involved. He has a marvelous support system... and his T-cell count is 28.' (the normal count is between 500 and 1500)."

Anger: life-threatener or life-saver? Take your pick.

Betty Friedan deduced that old people must be toting around a lot of unvented rage. (And we needed a feminist to tell us this?) Yet, most of that rage gets vented as mere grumpiness. Have you heard of any ageism protest marches lately?

Age and experience lead to attitude problems. You're no longer willing to shut up and drink the Kool-Aid. You tend to write indignant letters to editors, harrass telemarketers, and send bad restaurant food back to the kitchen (my wife hates it when I do that). You don't suffer fools gladly, and when people start talking to you in that way they talk to old people — you know how I mean — you tend not to laugh it off, and so confirm the stereotype.

At work, if you haven't risen to General Manager, from whom overt anger is accepted — even expected — you're just a disgruntled, perhaps under-medicated, over-the-hill employee. We've had years to bottle up anger. Now that we've reached the age of independence we're considered nuts if we let it out.

What, then, must we do?

I say put it to work. Use your experience to redirect your anger; use its energy to make something wonderful. Anger has caused broken bones, murders, terrorism and war, but it has also jump-started religions, countries, companies and weight loss.

This year, in a year of unprecedented frustration, our redirected anger is cleansing this country's political and economic processes. No water cannons necessary.

It may be socially unacceptable, and it makes us all uncomfortable, but anger is as natural as a fart and as American as apple crisp. Embrace your temper. Change your world.

Dave Newton is Editor of 3rdActs.com.