I smacked him straight in the side of the head. From behind. As he hit the floor I felt the familiar whoosh of adrenaline.
Back in 2009, I’d been kicked out of a club for a fight I hadn’t started and I was raging.
Shortly after, the lads who had started on my mates and I were kicked out too. A few lairy shouts became fists flying in the street. I was going to teach the mouthy lad who had started it all a lesson. The angry feeling of revenge was uncontrollable.
It was almost like this thick liquid had formed in my gut and worked its way up my torso right up to my head, filling my body with lightning quick toxicity, ready to explode. I felt ecstatic. I was addicted.
My anger has been a part of me since I was 11.
A 16-year-old boy put a knife to my back in the park round the corner from where I lived. For seemingly no reason at all. We’d been playing football and as I turned around to retrieve the ball, I felt a sharp pinch in my back.
I turned and backed away. The boy kept throwing the knife down at my feet, the blade lodged into the grass. I told my dad. Threats were all that were needed to stop him from bothering me again.
Six months later, my mum and dad split up. I saw him less and less until his visits petered out altogether. Without my hero to protect me, I had to protect myself.
I set about repeating the same mistakes as that 16-year-old with the knife. I was full of pent-up emotions – fear and anxiety that it would happen again, hurt that my dad didn’t love me, resentment that my mum had moved on so quickly with this new, odd man. And what was the safest way to display these emotions? Through anger.
I’m ashamed of how I behaved. But the key thing is, I know why. Then I was able to forgive myself
For a long time, I looked back on that one-punch outside the nightclub with pride. I was strong, I was brave, I was a ‘man’ in that situation.
Whenever I felt another man was trying to gain the upper hand, my anger rose. Little slights would trigger me. I didn’t like being told what to do. Everyone had it in for me. I would lash out and every time I did, I justified it.
If I finally did ever admit to wrongdoing, I always said I ‘didn’t know what came over me’ or that ‘it was out of character’. And I genuinely believed it, too.
According to findings in a study done by YouGov in 2018, 67% of Britain’s young men felt compelled to display ‘hyper-masculine’ behaviour in tough situations.
Combine that pressure with unresolved anger issues, like I clearly had, and you’re not left with many positive feelings or emotions to play with in day-to-day life.
Luckily, the most important person in my life helped me to recognise I had a problem. I met Daisy, my now fiancée, at a critical moment in my life in 2016 when I joined the cast of Hollyoaks.
I had spent years denying I had anger issues and this continued at the start of our relationship. My confident, cocky, laddish persona had initially attracted Daisy but she quickly saw the other side. We were on a night out and I nearly got into a fight with a group of lads who were looking at her.
She saw whenever I was overexcited it could quickly spill over into an argument. She saw me target other lads to make fun of, to gain the upper hand, to try and be the alpha male.
I was overprotective. A few months into our relationship, we went to a charity ball together. All of Daisy’s close family and friends were there. Towards the end of the night, Daisy drunkenly fell over and I thought someone had pushed her.
I started on the organiser of the whole event. Daisy was mortified. I knew, deep down, it was time to change. I sought out anger management. This led to a journey of self-discovery and reflection that changed my life for the better.
My counsellor recognised I needed some quick tools to help with my anger. They told me to focus on a square (look around you, squares are everywhere). Breathe in, look from one corner to the other. Then hold the breath and look from that corner to the next.
Then release the breath and follow the final two corners to reach the start again. It immediately calmed me down and kickstarted my journey. I delved back into all of the difficult moments in my life and reflected on the present-day moments that continued to dog me.
I just couldn’t help myself – I wanted to be the alpha, I wanted to battle other men, subtly, to gain dominance.
I had this need to climb this invisible hierarchy of manhood. My whole friendship group was based on who was more ‘manly’. Looking back, it was extremely toxic.
We actively encouraged each other to rank ourselves in terms of who the better ‘man’ was, awarding ‘lad points’ for character traits like ‘pussy management’ (how well you could keep ‘the mrs’ happy while still going out with the lads all the time).
I’m not sure why I thought this was acceptable. Perhaps deep down I knew it wasn’t. But when the people around you all seem to be behaving in the same way, you just do it. There’s no time for pausing to reflect when you’re young.
I’m ashamed of how I behaved. But the key thing is, I know why. Then I was able to forgive myself.
Slowly, slowly, I started to realise that my anger could be controlled. I had the power to choose how to feel and react to situations. I saw it as a challenge – to play the game of life in the best possible way.
I did a mixture of things to practice keeping calm. Writing an anger diary really helped. I made sure I was always aware of how I’d behaved and what I could have done differently. I started to see things from the other man’s point of view.
I tried to imagine them as a baby boy. Imagine anyone as a baby and it’ll make you feel calmer, trust me! When I look at my seven-month-old son he reminds me that life is too short to be pissed off all the time. There is beauty all around. You just have to open your eyes and see it.
I had to keep improving, to be calmer, to be peaceful, and happy. Self-awareness is everything. I spent less time being angry, and more time reflecting, reading, learning, or writing.
Then, an idea for a show started to form in my mind and I started recording voice notes on my phone with ideas. I decided that I wanted to tell my story of anger and the effect the pressures of ‘manhood’ had on me.
I began to write a stage show, Y’MAM (Young Man’s Angry Movements). Aimed at young men with similar issues, I dreamed of inspiring them to change earlier than I did.
I was lucky. The lad I knocked unconscious was fine. Others aren’t so lucky, and one moment of rage can ruin lives.
I want my show to encourage men to actively work at being the man they want to be. To self-reflect. To talk. To know that they don’t have to battle other men and to forgive themselves. I hope that they can relate to my journey and set out on their own.
Towards the end of the show, I ask the audience to think of the type of person they want to be. Take two minutes and try it for yourself.
That is the person you truly are. Whoever you want to be, that is you.
Y’MAM is on for two weeks at the Soho Theatre, London from 24th May – 4th June. For more information and to book tickets: Y’MAM: Young Man’s Angry Movements – Soho Theatre
For schools, community and youth group bookings, contact Alex Ferguson Productions
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