Rage as Prayer

A survivor’s womanifesto on sacred anger, divine alchemy, and the science of self-love.

For four years, I listened to it – the fists, the hours-long tirades of criticism, the twisted words that tried to convince me I was the problem.

I held my fear, my grief, my rage – not for me, but in an attempt to keep someone else’s violence from spilling over.

And in that containment, my body and spirit suffered immensely.

Rage is holy.

Not the unhinged rage of a grown man spewing the bottled-up poison of his own childhood wounds and past toxic relationships — all while digging his heels in, defending, and deflecting every invitation toward vulnerability, intimacy, or truth beyond shallow, performative love-bombing — but the righteous rage that rises in self-defense. The rage that says enough. The rage that meets madness and demands it stand down.

That rage is holy. It is sanctioned by God. The former exists to control; the latter exists to liberate.

The truth is, the only safe place for rage is God – or whatever name you give the Divine.

All other outlets are traps: your spouse, your children, your friends, the office gossip, the mirror. Pour your fire into them and it destroys you, and everyone around you. Rage aimed at the wrong person becomes violence; it becomes shame; it becomes another prison.

Rage poured constantly onto a partner behind closed doors slowly destroys them – often the conscious goal of weak, abusive narcissists. And the futile efforts of the victim to contain it, until provoked to explode, are toxic, destructive, and deadly for them.

But give it to God.

Let it fly into the sky.

Let it pound the earth.

Let it scream through your body until your lungs are empty and your nervous system sighs in relief.

Rage is prayer when it is honest, when it is sacred, when it is acknowledged rather than hidden.

This is not the rage of revenge. This is the rage of truth.

The rage that says: I was hurt. I was violated. I will not stay silent. I will not be complicit in my own erasure.

This is rage that cleanses the soul and strengthens the spine.

For a lifetime, my rage was a secret weapon I could not wield. I was forced to swallow it – because spilling it anywhere else would have been lethal, literally and spiritually.

But I have learned this: the Divine can handle it.

God can take the full weight of your fury and transform it into vision, courage, and clarity.

Prayer is not always soft or whispered. Sometimes it is roaring, trembling, shaking the foundations of everything you thought was permanent.

Rage is prayer when it goes up, not sideways.

Rage is prayer when it is offered honestly, not aimed destructively.

So the next time your body trembles with anger, the next time your heart pounds with injustice – take it to the Divine.

It is yours to hold. Yours to witness. Yours to release.

Let God be the receiver of your fire – not the person next to you, not the child, not the friend.

Your rage is a sacred signal, a pulse of life refusing to be silenced.

Let it be heard. Let it fly. Let it transform.

Because God can handle it.

But here’s what modern science now confirms – what mystics have always known: energy matters. Quantum physics shows that the frequencies we hold in our thoughts, words, and emotions directly influence our health, our future, and the world around us. Love and gratitude create coherence and life. Hatred, fear, and contempt create distortion – and decay.

When an abuser repeatedly vomits rage and verbal or emotional abuse onto another behind closed doors, it is not just cruelty – it is energetic violence. It alters the victim’s nervous system, their cells, their very reality. It is a slow and deliberate form of murder.

Surviving that kind of torture has required me to practice radical measures of self-love – daily, fiercely, relentlessly – to counter every attempt by an abuser to extinguish my light. And every act of self-love has become a resurrection.

Rage is fuel for survival. Its safe, honed expression and transmutation rise from the oceanic grief underneath.

If we are coached out of feeling and expressing anger in pointed, healthy ways, that energy risks hardening into a thick crust, with molten lava building beneath.

The world does not need more suppression. It needs more sanctified fire.