Annoyance, Frustration and the Return to Joy

I know the shape of frustration. I’ve felt it coil around my spine, settle in my belly, tighten my jaw, and pulse in my fingertips. I’ve also felt its quieter cousin, annoyance, arrive in small doses. Interruptions. Delays. Moments that rub me the wrong way. Annoyance moves fast. It often hides in plain sight. And if I don’t pause and tend to it, it stacks. It spreads. It starts to take up space that belongs to my peace.

For a long time, I didn’t know how to work with these energies. I swallowed them. I tried to override them with logic and productivity. I dimmed my reactions to appear composed. But my body always knew. The heat. The tightness. The sudden urge to snap or cry. These weren’t flaws. They were signals.

Annoyance and frustration aren’t just emotional reactions. They are messengers of misalignment. They reveal when something needs attention, when energy isn’t flowing clearly, or when our inner truth has been ignored.

When I finally gave myself permission to listen, to breathe, to feel, and to speak to these sensations with presence, I began to notice patterns. For me, these energies often gather in my midsection. Sometimes it’s my Solar Plexus, the center of self and personal power. Other times I feel it in my throat, my heart, or even my hips. It shifts. It speaks through sensation. And that conversation taught me something sacred.

There’s no one way to feel. No one place it lives. What matters is that we notice and respond.

Sound has become one of my most trusted ways to meet these moments. Not just any sound, but intentional, resonant sound. The chant Ram holds a frequency that helps me return to center. It helps me move stagnant energy, reconnect with my inner fire, and remember my own agency. It doesn’t silence the frustration. It transforms it.

This isn’t about having perfect posture or memorizing complex systems. This is about bringing your presence to the part of you that’s asking to be felt. It’s about creating a relationship with your energy and trusting that your body knows how to shift, soften, and realign when you give it the space.

In this journey, I’ll share how annoyance and frustration move through us. I’ll guide you through the energies involved, the wisdom of Ram, and a practice to return to your natural rhythm of joy. This isn’t about escape. This is about transmutation. Let’s begin.

Where Frustration Lives and What It’s Trying to Teach Us

When I feel frustration or annoyance building in my body, it rarely whispers. It simmers. It pushes. Sometimes it settles in my belly like a tight knot. Sometimes it moves through my chest like a wave of heat. It shifts depending on what I’m holding, how long I’ve been holding it, and how deeply I’ve ignored my own needs.

There was a time when I didn’t pay attention to these sensations. I kept going. I tried to stay productive. I thought I could outwork or out-think the tension. But my body always knew. It tightened. It pulsed. It begged me to notice.

The more I ignored the small annoyances, the more they grew into something unmanageable. Now, I listen early. I pause. I check in. I breathe into the places that feel clenched or heavy or irritated. I ask what they need. That shift, turning toward the feeling instead of away from it, changed everything.

Over time, I’ve learned how these emotions move through me. Frustration often lights up in my midsection. That space just above my navel, where I feel the pull between action and stillness, between power and pressure. For me, that’s often the Solar Plexus speaking. It holds so much. My yes, my no, my boundaries, my sense of direction. When I abandon myself to keep the peace, that area speaks up. Not always with words, but with heat, tension, or discomfort.

This is my experience. Everyone feels emotion differently. For some, frustration might rise in the throat or press on the heart. Others might feel it in their hips, their back, or in the breath. The exact location matters less than the willingness to listen. These energies are part of your inner guidance system. They point toward what is ready to move.

Frustration and annoyance are not just emotional reactions. They are energetic messages. They show up when truth has been ignored. When action has been delayed. When boundaries have been stretched thin. They reveal a misalignment between your needs and your current reality.

The Solar Plexus is one energy center that helps us process this. It governs personal power, will, confidence, and clarity. When the energy there flows well, we feel focused and grounded. When it becomes stagnant or overworked, we may feel stuck, reactive, confused, or tired.

Then there is the liver. In Traditional Chinese Medicine, the liver holds the emotion of anger. It also governs the smooth flow of Qi, the body’s vital life force. When the liver becomes stagnant through stress, overload, or emotional buildup, that blocked flow affects us on many levels. We feel it in our bodies, our moods, and our energy.

In Western medicine, the liver is known for its detoxifying power. It filters out what the body no longer needs and supports the return to balance. That function mirrors what we’re doing when we work with emotion. Through breath, sound, movement, and rest, we allow stuck energy to move. We give the body space to release and come back into harmony.

I’ve noticed that when I support my liver, my emotional landscape softens. When I tend to my Solar Plexus, my clarity returns. These parts of the body are in constant dialogue. I listen to both. I trust their rhythm. I work with what they show me.

Frustration has taught me to pause and meet myself with honesty. Annoyance has taught me to check in before I reach a breaking point. These emotions aren’t just something to fix. They are a call to come back to center.

And when the energy is intense, when the fire builds, I return to sound. I return to Ram.

The Power of Ram

When I first began working with the chant Ram, I didn’t know what to expect. I wasn’t trying to perform it perfectly. I wasn’t following a strict rule or trying to force a result. I just needed something that spoke to the heat I felt in my body. Something that could meet the frustration I couldn’t talk myself out of. Something that could move what my breath alone could not.

Ram became that for me. A sound. A rhythm. A vibration that reminded my body how to release. It didn’t take long for me to feel the shift. When I spoke the syllable slowly and intentionally, I could feel my center respond. Sometimes it softened. Sometimes it pulsed. Sometimes it cracked open what I had been holding for weeks. Ram gave the energy somewhere to go.

This chant is known across many traditions as the bija mantra, or seed sound, connected to the Solar Plexus. Its frequency is known to support willpower, clarity, and healthy self-expression. But what makes it powerful is not the theory. What makes it powerful is the experience. You feel it when you say it. You feel it in the vibration through your chest, in the warmth it sends through your belly, in the way your nervous system responds.

Ram carries a stabilizing energy. It doesn’t push. It doesn’t rush. It tones the body like a tuning fork tones an instrument. When I use it with breath, intention, and presence, I feel more connected to myself. I feel less reactive. I’m no longer waiting for the world to change so I can feel better. I am changing my state from within.

There is also something deeply spiritual about chanting Ram. Not in a distant or inaccessible way. It feels intimate. Personal. Like speaking directly to the part of me that already knows what to do. It’s a return, not a performance.

The simplicity of the sound is part of its medicine. Just one syllable. Ram. Spoken from the belly. Rolled slowly through the mouth. Allowed to vibrate into the body.

When I chant it with focus, I visualize golden light moving through the places that feel stuck. I imagine warmth radiating from the center of my body and expanding into my arms, my legs, my back, my throat. I let the sound open me. And every time, it meets me exactly where I am.

You don’t need to know everything about the chakras. You don’t need to be an expert in sound healing. What you need is your presence. Your voice. Your willingness to explore.

Ram gives you a way to respond to frustration and annoyance without fighting yourself. It opens space for clarity to return. It offers the body a chance to shift without needing permission from the outside world.

You can chant Ram once. Or for five minutes. Or one hundred and eight times. You can whisper it or speak it with full voice. What matters most is your intention. And your consistency.

This is about presence. This is about remembering that your body already knows how to return to joy.

Bringing the Practice to Life

You don’t need much to begin. No elaborate setup. No sacred tools. Just a willingness to slow down and meet yourself in the moment. This practice is simple, but the energy it activates runs deep.

Here’s how I bring the Ram chant into my body and my life when I need it most.

I start by choosing a space that feels safe. Sometimes it’s the corner of my room, lights low, a pillow under me. Sometimes it’s my car, parked, silent, the outside world tuned out for just a few minutes. The place doesn’t matter as much as the feeling. I create an atmosphere that tells my body, You can settle now.

Then I breathe. Deep, intentional breaths. I let my inhale fill my belly, not just my chest. I hold for a second. I exhale slowly through my mouth or nose. This breath invites my nervous system to come back to center. I let it guide me into the rhythm of the present moment.

When I feel ready, I begin to chant.

Ram is pronounced as Raaam, with the “a” drawn out gently. I let the sound vibrate through my body. I don’t try to sound perfect. I don’t force volume. I speak from where the energy lives. Sometimes that’s from my gut. Other times it rises from my chest or echoes through my mouth like a hum. I let it move how it wants to move.

As I chant, I picture a golden-yellow light glowing in the area that feels tense or heavy. That might be the belly, the chest, the throat, or anywhere else I feel heat or pressure. I let that light grow brighter with each repetition. I imagine it clearing what I no longer need and inviting what helps me return to my power.

I usually chant for several minutes. Some days I use a mala and repeat the chant 108 times. Other days I set a timer for five minutes. If I’m short on time, I may only say it a few times while taking deep breaths. No matter the length, the intention stays the same. I am creating space for energy to shift.

When I finish chanting, I sit in stillness for a moment. I let my body absorb the shift. I pay attention to what feels different. Sometimes it’s a physical release. Sometimes it’s emotional. Sometimes it’s just a quiet sense of ease.

And then I thank myself. I acknowledge the effort it took to show up. Even if I didn’t feel a huge shift, I trust that something moved.

This practice doesn’t have to be perfect or dramatic. It just has to be real.

You can return to it anytime. In moments of tension. Before an important conversation. When you feel stuck, restless, or uncertain. When you’re trying to process something that hasn’t made sense yet.

Over time, the sound begins to work faster. The body remembers. The breath deepens more easily. The frustration has less control. And joy begins to rise with less resistance.

You’re not forcing change. You’re aligning with what already lives inside you.

You are remembering your own rhythm.

Honoring the Liver, Supporting the Flow

When I started paying deeper attention to my emotions, I realized how much they were tied to my body’s rhythm. Not just in a metaphorical way, but in a physical, energetic, and ancestral way. One of the most important relationships I’ve learned to honor is the one between my emotions and my liver.

In Traditional Chinese Medicine, the liver is seen as the guardian of emotional flow. It’s responsible for the movement of Qi, the vital energy that fuels every part of us. When the liver is overwhelmed, stuck, or burdened with too much, the flow of Qi becomes restricted. That’s when frustration, irritability, resentment, and even rage begin to show up more frequently. These aren’t just moods. They’re messengers.

Western medicine describes the liver as the body’s detox powerhouse. It filters toxins, regulates hormones, processes nutrients, and holds down hundreds of other essential tasks every day. When it’s functioning well, the body feels balanced. When it’s taxed, everything feels harder. Emotionally, physically, mentally. Everything.

I’ve felt this in my own body. When I’m holding emotional weight I haven’t released, my digestion feels off. My sleep gets disrupted. I feel short-tempered or heavy in ways that don’t match what’s happening externally. That’s when I know it’s time to support my liver, not just with food or supplements, but with care, rest, and rhythm.

Supporting the liver doesn’t require perfection. It requires presence.

For me, that support looks like warm herbal teas that help cleanse gently. Lemon water in the morning. Beets, greens, grapefruit, and other foods that feel alive and vibrant. It looks like less alcohol, less sugar, and fewer things that drain my energy.

It also looks like movement. Sometimes a slow yoga flow. Other times, a long walk with deep breaths. It’s about creating space for the body to move stagnant energy, not just through sweat but through breath, through intention, through sound.

Abdominal massage has also become part of my care. I place my hands over the right side of my belly, breathe into it, and make slow circular motions. I speak gently to the area. I remind my body it’s safe to release what it no longer needs.

The connection between the liver and the Solar Plexus is something I feel deeply. When I support one, the other responds. When I’m doing the work of energetic transmutation through Ram, the liver responds with more ease. When I’m caring for my liver physically, my Solar Plexus holds less tension. My choices feel clearer. My responses feel more grounded. My sense of joy returns with more consistency.

There is no separation between the emotional body and the physical body. There is no separation between spiritual practices and cellular healing. When we tend to the parts of us that are overworked and overloaded, we create room for softness, clarity, and connection to reenter.

This is how I bring the work into my life. Not as a ritual only done on hard days, but as a rhythm of care. As a practice of remembering that I am not just a mind trying to figure things out. I am a whole being with systems that speak to one another, with emotions that want to be heard, and with power that is always ready to return when I clear the way.

Integrating Other Practices for Deeper Alignment

Ram is one way I return to myself. But it’s not the only way. Over the years, I’ve learned that some energies require a layered approach. Sound alone is powerful, yet when I combine it with other tools that speak to the body, the spirit, and the emotions, the shift moves faster. The transformation roots deeper. The clarity lasts longer.

Some days I need my breath and my voice. Other days, I reach for crystals, divination, movement, or dreamwork. I listen to my body. I tune into what’s present. I let the moment tell me what’s needed, not my agenda or to-do list.

These are some of the ways I deepen the work when frustration or annoyance are sitting heavy in my system. When I’m holding something that doesn’t belong to me. When I need to clear stagnant energy without needing to explain it to anyone. These tools remind me that my healing is mine. It belongs to me. And I get to move through it in my own way.

Crystals

When I chant Ram, I often hold a piece of Citrine near my Solar Plexus. Its golden glow reminds me that joy is not something I have to earn. It’s already inside me. Citrine helps me reconnect with my confidence and soften the grip of self-doubt. When the emotions feel dense or heavy, I turn to Black Tourmaline. It anchors me into the Earth. It pulls me back when I feel scattered or overwhelmed.

Sometimes I bring in Lapis Lazuli or Sodalite, especially when I feel like my words are stuck in my throat. These stones help loosen the knot. They bring a calming energy that settles my thoughts and makes space for truth to rise. I don’t treat crystals like prescriptions. I let them be companions. I hold them. I breathe with them. I let my body decide how long we stay in that connection. Sometimes just a few minutes. Sometimes an entire afternoon.

Sound Healing

Sound speaks in a language older than thought. When I don’t have words, I turn to tones. Tuning forks, singing bowls, chimes, and even playlists created with intention all have a place in my practice. There are days I play a Solar Plexus bowl while chanting Ram, letting the vibrations overlap and swirl through my body. Other times, I listen to low, sustained frequencies that remind my nervous system it’s safe to relax.

Sometimes it’s as simple as humming to myself. Letting the sound vibrate in my chest and throat. Letting it melt whatever feels frozen. Sound moves energy quickly and gently. It bypasses the mind and touches the soul.

Energy Work

My hands are sacred tools. When I place them over my belly or my chest and send love inward, something always shifts. I don’t need to explain it. I just feel the warmth and presence of my own care. When I work with Reiki or other energy-based modalities, I tap into something greater than me, yet deeply personal. It’s like my cells remember their original instructions.

There are also moments when I choose to receive. A session with a skilled practitioner, someone who can witness without fixing, can unlock emotions I didn’t even realize I was holding. Whether I’m working solo or being supported, energy work reminds me that I don’t have to force transformation. I just have to say yes to it.

Divination Tools

There are times when my body is loud, but my mind is cloudy. That’s when I pull a card. Or reach for my pendulum. Or sit with a rune. These tools don’t give me answers I don’t already have. They help reveal what I’ve been avoiding. They reflect back what’s true. Sometimes I pull a single card and sit with the image. Other times I create a spread with intention, asking to see what’s hidden beneath my irritation or restlessness.

I’ve even used a pendulum over my Solar Plexus and asked, Is there stuck energy here? Do I need support in this area? The body always responds. Spirit always speaks. These tools give me language for what I already feel.

Astrology and Human Design

My birth chart is one of the first maps I ever followed back to myself. Understanding the influence of Mars in my chart helped me stop shaming myself for irritation or impulsive reactions. Learning about Saturn showed me how resistance can be an invitation to deepen my discipline and discernment.

Human Design taught me that I am built to guide, not to chase. As a Projector, I understand now why certain spaces drain me and others restore me. I’ve stopped forcing myself to fit into containers that were never designed for my rhythm. These systems don’t control me, but they do provide mirrors. They help me show up with more compassion for who I am.

Dreamwork and Visions

When I sleep, my spirit keeps speaking. My dreams become messengers. They carry the wisdom of what I haven’t yet faced and the healing that is already underway. I keep a journal by my bed, and when I wake, I write what I remember. Even fragments hold medicine. A color. A person. A moment. All of it means something.

Visions often come when I’m chanting or resting after. They appear like flashes. Scenes. Symbols. I’ve learned not to chase them. I receive them. I let them stay with me until their message becomes clear. My dreams and visions remind me that healing doesn’t always make sense right away. Sometimes it arrives in layers, in whispers, in poetry.

Embodiment and Movement

Sometimes the energy needs more than stillness. Sometimes I need to move it through. I stretch slowly, with deep breaths. I sway side to side. I shake my arms, my legs, my hips. I don’t make it a performance. I just let the energy guide me. Dance has been one of my favorite ways to clear irritation. I let the beat take me where my words cannot. I let the movement become the release.

These practices don’t replace each other. They speak to one another. They collaborate. They layer. They create a field of care that meets me wherever I am—whether I’m melting down, rising up, or just trying to make it through the day with grace.

When I pair Ram with one or more of these tools, I feel the shift in my bones. I feel supported by something greater than myself and more intimate than language. I feel like I am participating in my own evolution, not waiting for someone to fix what I’ve already been chosen to heal.

I reclaim my rhythm by remembering, embodying and returning to it through my daily practices, rituals and routines.

Returning to Joy

This is what it looks like when I return to myself.

Not all at once and not in a perfect rhythm. Some days the journey back feels effortless. Other times it’s layered with resistance, distractions, and old patterns asking to be released. Still, I return. I choose myself, again and again. I breathe through the tension. I listen for the quiet truth beneath the noise. I soften where I once held tight.

Annoyance and frustration are not just random disruptions. They carry information. They reveal what is unspoken, what is out of balance, what is asking to shift. These emotions point to places within me that have been ignored, overstretched, or silenced. They are not here to sabotage me. They are here to awaken me to where care is needed most.

Over time, I’ve learned to treat these emotions with respect. Instead of judging them, I meet them. I ask what they want me to know. I move with them through sound, breath, rest, and ritual. I allow myself to feel without shame. I hold myself through the release. I reclaim the joy that rises when the weight is no longer buried inside my body.

Joy does not always arrive with a celebration. Sometimes it returns quietly. It shows up as a clear breath. A feeling of spaciousness. A small sense of lightness after a long-held heaviness begins to move. The more I listen, the more I notice. The more I respond to my needs, the more my body trusts me to hold the truth.

This practice is not about chasing joy. It is about creating the conditions for joy to return naturally. Joy is not something I force. It is something I uncover, something that lives beneath the layers I’ve had to carry. When I give myself space to release what no longer serves, I create room for that deeper joy to rise again.

This is the heart of the work I offer through Healing through Visions. Each session is a sacred container designed to support your return to balance, clarity, and embodied truth. Whether we are working through an energy alignment, spiritual guidance, or ritual integration, you are met with presence. You are met with care. You are met with tools that honor your unique energy and process.

You are not expected to hold it all alone. You do not have to figure it all out before asking for support. You are worthy of connection, of clarity, of restoration. You are allowed to feel. You are allowed to release. You are allowed to begin again.

If this writing speaks to something you are ready to explore, you are warmly invited to book a session through Healing through Visions, where we will meet your energy with respect, intention, and love. We will create space for the frustration to soften, for the energy to move, and for your joy to return in a way that feels nourishing and true.

Joy lives within you. It may be buried under survival. It may be waiting for your permission. It may be ready to return now. Let this be your moment to receive it fully.