Anger is not loud shouting, but a build-up. A pressure vessel of sensory overload, excessive demands, disappointed expectations and the feeling of not being heard.

Ira describes the moments when you could no longer react subtly because something remained unsaid for too long.

It is an honest look at anger as a protective mechanism: when boundaries are recognised too late, when you swallow too often and your body eventually takes over.

This category is not about justification, but about analysis: where did the anger come from? What lay beneath it? Why was irritation often only the visible tip of a much deeper feeling?

Ira highlights situations in which helplessness, exhaustion or hurt have turned into harshness. Anger was never the source, but the final stage of a process.

These texts reveal how many layers were previously ignored — and how anger actually functions as a warning signal.

It's about understanding the mechanism: anger protects because it creates distance when the psyche is overwhelmed. But it also hurts when it comes out uncontrollably.

Ira is not a moral judgement, but a space in which you describe clearly and without beating around the bush how anger feels, why it comes and what it prevents or makes possible.
It is a sober record of situations in which the stress has exceeded one's capacity.

I look at it because my anger is usually silent, but destructive. It consumes energy without being visible. I want to learn to release it before it corrodes me from within.