Dear Hope: I lost my mom six months ago. I’m so angry all the time — at my family, at strangers, at the world. I hate feeling this way, but I can’t make it stop. What is wrong with me?
Dear Hope, I lost my mom six months ago. I’m so angry all the time — at my family, at strangers, at the world. I hate feeling this way, but I can’t make it stop. What is wrong with me?
Grief doesn’t always cry softly. Sometimes it shows up as heat. A clenched jaw. A fast heart beat. Words you don’t mean flying out like daggers. It’s sometimes agitated, erratic, and honest. Anger after someone dies is common… when grief feels overwhelming, it often erupts as fury, demanding acknowledgment and protection for your wounded heart. Research shows that anger is a common part of bereavement, particularly in the early months of loss, and is linked with higher levels of emotional distress but also with active coping.
Why Anger Shows Up
Grief and anger are inseparable because anger is one way the mind and body process the incomprehensible. Losing someone can feel like a betrayal of the world itself, triggering frustration, helplessness, and sharp-edged emotions. Your body is reacting to death with the intensity it deserves; your nervous system doesn’t have a “grief dial,” it only has its stress responses: fight, flight, or freeze.
Anger often targets those around us…not because they deserve it, but because grief demands expression. Studies note that social withdrawal, irritability, and moments of explosive anger are part of normal bereavement and can serve as a release mechanism.
Ways You Can Work With Your Anger
Name it: “I’m angry at this loss, and that’s okay.” Acknowledging anger can reduce its intensity.
Move it: Physical expression (walking, punching a pillow, or rhythmic movement) helps process the energy.
Channel it: Write letters, art, or music to give shape to what feels uncontainable.
Reflect on it: Ask, What is my anger trying to protect? Often, it guards the love, the connection, the memories we can’t bear to lose.
Anger is not your enemy. It’s a signal that your love is deep, and you’re processing your grief. Let it move through you, with compassion and curiosity and presence. There’s no timetable. There’s no shame. Only the fire that reminds you that what you lost mattered, and that you still have the capacity to feel it fiercely.
