Anger is often the first messenger. We find ourselves irritated by dynamics that once seemed tolerable. We bristle at the obligations we agreed to—sometimes freely—and wonder how we got here. But anger, in this context, is not necessarily destructive. It is diagnostic. It reveals the boundaries that have been crossed, the desires that have been deferred too long, the identities we’ve worn like borrowed clothes. And yet, in our quest to reclaim autonomy, we must tread carefully. There is a risk of confusing rebellion with authenticity, of mistaking the need to assert the self with a need to dismantle the other.