He came in because his partner had said, gently and for the last time, that she couldn't keep living with how he reacted. He wasn't violent. He was loud, sharp, and gone for hours afterwards. He hated himself every time.
We didn't try to fix the anger first. We slowed down underneath it. What lived there wasn't rage. It was a younger version of him standing next to a coffin nobody had let him stand next to, holding everything he hadn't been allowed to feel.
Once that part got met, not analysed, met, the anger had less work to do. It still showed up. It stopped running the house.
Composite story. Details have been changed to protect identities and do not refer to any single individual.