Although we agree on little these days, we can probably all concur there is much to be vexed about. Photo / Andre Hunter, Unsplash
How are you feeling right now, on a scale of one to utterly apoplectic? If your anger goes to 11 (to borrow the infallible Spinal Tap system of measurement), then perhaps it will calm you slightly to know you're not the only one.
Although we agree on little these days – as evidenced by the zillion arguments permanently raging on social media – we can probably all concur there is much to be vexed about.
We're angry about climate change, but also about the exorbitant cost of petrol. Angry workers are striking; angry protesters are saying Enough is Enough. And the rest of us are muddling through, trying to channel our rage into something more useful than a furious tweet.
But what should we be doing with these powerful feelings of helplessness, short of rising up and overthrowing the system – which is neither recommended by The Telegraph, nor a massively feasible short-term solution to our woes? Last week, London's Leadenhall Market offered an answer of sorts by opening what was billed as the UK's first "screamatorium". The premise: to scream away stress in the safety of an empty shop unit.
The free, drop-in experience, which ran for four working days, was designed to give people "space to ease their post-summer September blues". Also included was a not-especially-relaxing "calming meditation zone".
Doubtful about whether screaming on cue was likely to resolve any of our current problems, I nonetheless gave it a go, in the name of research. My main finding was that standing in a sparsely furnished space and randomly screaming at nothing feels a little embarrassing.
But the idea of screaming as a therapeutic intervention is neither new nor untested. Primal scream therapy was conceived by psychologist Arthur Janov in the 1960s. Based on the notion that screaming can help with the pain caused by repressed childhood traumas, it became popular in the 1970s and attracted the likes of John Lennon and Yoko Ono.
It has proved controversial over the years, with some experts sceptical of its benefits. "Such expressions of anger and aggression have no, or even negative, effects when dealing with stress and treating mental problems," says Professor Sascha Frühholz from the department of psychology at the University of Zurich. "This is the reason why all serious coaching and psychotherapeutic approaches do not use screaming as an element in the treatment process."
Natural screams are only meaningful in the immediate context, such as signalling threat or elation, he points out. "Screams produced in the screamatorium are largely de-contextualised… from the supposed stress events, and it thus seems questionable if such screaming can be really stress-releasing."
Stress, he says, is psychologically complex, and needs "various cognitive treatment approaches".
He's presumably not referring to the particular treatment approach favoured by the crowds at the pubs outside the screamatorium, who were busy dealing with their complex emotions by drinking.
I asked Tamsin Kavanagh, who was overseeing the supervised screaming, whether visitors had found it actually relieved their stress. "I think so," she said. "But some people can't do it, they can't let it all out."
So what other ways are there to safely release, or even to calm, our rage? A colleague swears by breathwork – the practised art of using the breath to reduce anxiety and stress. "At first I thought, angrily, 'What do you mean I don't know how to breathe properly? I've been breathing for 50 years,'" she says. "But then I tried it and it really did leave me feeling calmer."
Multiple breathing classes have sprung up around the country in recent years, promising to help with everything from fatigue, concentration and memory, to stress, anxiety and depression. The teaching tends to include a mixture of healthy breathing techniques and meditation.
If it sounds like a lucrative wheeze dreamed up by the wellness industry, the idea of paying attention to the breath to achieve a mindful, meditative state has roots in Buddhist tradition.
Also influenced by Buddhist thought is the now-fashionable practice of radical acceptance. The idea is that non-judgmental acceptance of situations beyond your control will diminish the pain they cause. By essentially adhering to the (admittedly infuriating) maxim "it is what it is", you make peace with the things you cannot change and, in theory, feel better for it. Like breathwork, it is not a quick fix, but something that must be practised, say its advocates.
For those who prefer a more hands-on way of dealing with their anger, a string of "rage rooms" has meanwhile opened around the country, where visitors are encouraged to unleash anger by smashing things to pieces. Wreck Room, which opened in London in 2017, was followed by other similar attractions. "Ever wanted to smash stuff?" Wreck Room's website asks. "Well now you can, and guess what? It is a LOT of fun."
Like the screamatorium, it is also an arguably flimsy answer to a genuine mental health crisis and a very real and worrying economic maelstrom. But there may nonetheless be something to be gained from releasing the accumulation of energy that anger represents, suggests clinical psychologist Linda Blair.
"Anger is a build-up of energy and a cover-up for fear," she says. "You're fearing a loss of some sort, and in this case it's the loss of control, of your finances [for instance] ... It's dreadful right now, but you [can] say, 'this anger is just energy, I want to get rid of it' and ... find a technique [to do so]."
What works will differ from person to person, she says. Your preferred method of expelling angry energy may be something as simple as laughter, taking a long walk or doing some jumping jacks.
What matters is that you tackle the feeling, rather than bottle it up. "Anger is a very healthy thing," says Blair. "It's a warning there might be something to be afraid of and you have to see if you can address it. The earlier you can address it, the healthier will be the expulsion. Recognise that you're building up anger, then protect yourself. Anger should not be ignored."
The risk for most people is not so much that it boils over and results in violence. After all, we're British; we're more likely to grumble loudly or write an irate letter. But failing to release pent-up anger means we're storing that energy inside ourselves, which can lead to exhaustion and low mood, Blair warns.
Still, if you're one of those people who has sometimes felt close to the edge, unsure what you might be capable of if one more blasted thing doesn't go your way, she has some sound advice: "If possible, never direct your anger at another person and never damage things."
You will, she cautions, only regret it later.
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