Owning My Emotions Through Words

Hiya. I’m Ewan. I’m 15, from Scotland, and I want to tell you how something I thought was just “school stuff” has actually helped me stop losing it and hurting people I care about—word choice.

Now, I’m not gonna lie. I’ve got ADHD, and reading or writing is like running up a muddy hill. On top of that, I’ve got dyslexia, so words on a page? They sometimes look like they’re dancing about, trying to wind me up. And the worst bit? I’ve got a temper like a storm in a teacup. A small thing happens, and it feels like a bomb goes off in my head. It’s not just shouting or slamming doors—I’ve broken stuff, said things I regret, and scared my wee sister once. I hate that.

So, word choice. You’re probably thinking, “How’s that gonna help with all this, mate?” Here’s how.

Finding Words When You’re Boiling Inside

When I’m angry, it’s like my brain short-circuits. I don’t know what I’m feeling, let alone how to say it. That’s when the anger wins. But when I started thinking about words more—what they mean, how they feel—it gave me a kind of toolkit.

For example, instead of thinking, “I’m mad,” I’ve learned to dig a bit deeper. Am I frustrated? Annoyed? Upset? Furious? See, there’s a difference. “Frustrated” feels like a roadblock; “furious” feels like a fireball. Knowing which one I’m feeling helps me cool down, because I can name it. Once I’ve got the word, I can deal with it. It's like shining a torch in a dark room—it makes the shadows less scary.

Words Are Like a Pause Button

When you’ve got ADHD, pausing feels impossible. Your brain’s going 100 miles an hour, and stopping to think? Forget it. But focusing on the right word forces me to slow down. It’s like this: if you’re about to explode at someone and you think, “What do I actually want to say?” it gives your brain a moment to catch up with your feelings. That pause can be the difference between shouting and taking a breath.

Telling My Story

I used to hate writing. Words were my enemy—always getting jumbled up, laughing at me from the page. But then I started learning about word choice, and it clicked. Words aren’t just tools for essays. They’re how I can tell my story.

Take the word “angry.” If I only ever say I’m “angry,” people just see me as this shouty guy who can’t control himself. But if I say, “I feel overwhelmed,” or “I’m scared I’ll mess things up,” it’s like opening a door to what’s really going on inside. People listen. They understand. And that feels better than breaking stuff, trust me.

Turning Chaos into Calm

There’s this thing my teacher said once. She told me that words can shape how we think. Like, if you say “I’m hopeless,” you start to believe it. But if you say, “I’m trying,” or “I can do this,” it changes how you see yourself. So now, when I’m spiralling, I try to talk to myself in better words. Instead of saying, “I’m useless,” I say, “I’m learning.” It doesn’t fix everything, but it stops me from sinking further.

Why It Matters

When I lose my temper, I’m not just hurting myself. I’m hurting people around me—my friends, my family. And that’s not who I want to be. Word choice has given me a way to fight back, not with fists or shouting, but with understanding. It’s not easy, and I mess up loads, but it’s a start.

If you’re like me—struggling to keep it together, scared of your own anger—try this. Start with words. Learn them. Use them. They’re not just school stuff. They’re armour, a torch, and a ladder all rolled into one. And they might just help you the way they’ve helped me.

Cheers for reading.

Ewan ✌️