Weekly Karma #5

Many of you have asked me how you can pull off being kind yet assertive. Let’s do this with a story.

It’s a story from my life. It’s a story from my marriage.

It’s a story about something that took place recently. It was a situation that, just a few years ago, would have gone one of two ways. It would have either resulted in me yelling at him or in me saying nothing and feeling resentful.

On this day, however, that is not what transpired. I thank what I’ve learned during the Karma Project for that.

Have I built this up enough yet? Too much? Perhaps.

Alright, here’s the story.

It was my husband’s day to retrieve our daughter after school. School lets out at 3:30. I would be watching her that evening, but the two of them would not be getting home until at least 3:40. So I figured I’d go for a run at 3 p.m. I’d get back right around the time they got home.

This is my usual schedule on his pick up day.

A few minutes before 3 pm, however, my husband called. He asked, “Can you pick her up from school today?”

Really? Today?

It’s not as if I haven’t picked her up on his day before. It’s also not as if he hasn’t stepped in and retrieved her on my pick up days. We’re both self employed. Work emergencies happen.

But still. It was a beautiful day on the North East Coast. We hadn’t had a day like this in weeks.

WEEKS I tell you.

For weeks, we’d either had torrential rain, hail, tornados or blistering heat. I do not exaggerate. It had been anything but good running weather. But dedicated runner that I am, I’d gotten myself through it all.

Yet this day? This day was divine. It was sent to me (and all runners everywhere) by God. It was a perfect running day. It was the perfect temperature. It was sparklingly sunny. It was just breezy enough to keep me cool, but not so breezy to blow me off the road.

Days like this do not come very often.

And I hadn’t run the day before because 1) it was stinking hot 2) I was quite sore and needed a day off 3) I figured I could run on this day instead.

“Sure, I can pick her up, but I’d like to get a run in. So could you come home at some point so I can make that happen?”

Long silence.

As the silence progressed, I could feel that familiar hint of irritation brewing inside of me. I could feel the familiar negative thoughts coming to the forefront of my mind, too. Those familiar negative thoughts usually start with words like, “Typical!” and “Figures!” and “Classic!”

He cleared his throat. He stalled with a few “Ums” and then he said, “I don’t know. I might be able to do that. But I don’t know. I don’t know if I can do that. How long will it take you?”

“It only takes me 30 to 45 minutes to run,” I said flatly. I said it somewhat flatly because my husband is a cyclist. In his mind, it’s not a real bike ride unless at least two hours have transpired. Four is his usual.

“I don’t know if I can swing that,” he said.

This is what I really so wanted to say next: “It’s a beautiful day and I just wanted to run and I deserve to get a run in because I work so hard and you went out last night and now you are going out tonight and you had the whole weekend last weekend to yourself and you are taking the whole weekend coming up off and I’m already such an understanding wife to give you that much time off from being a dad and here all I want is a half hour to run and you can’t even squeeze that in. You are the most selfish and unappreciative person in the world. This marriage is all about you and nothing about me.”

I didn’t say that, however. I didn’t say it because I knew better. Every word of it might have been justified, and it might have even frightened him into giving me what I wanted. But I would not have felt good after saying those words. I would have had a terrible run and a cold silence would have enveloped my marriage.

So I took a very deep breath.

Then I said this: “I would appreciate it if, in the future, if you need me to pick her up that you would call earlier in the day. I could have run earlier today if I’d known that I needed to.”

He said of course he would do that in the future.

When I hung up the phone, I was pretty stinking mad, though. And I was also quite disappointed. I couldn’t help but look out the window wistfully and wish I could be outside running. So I reminded myself of a few things.

1. This was a great opportunity for me to practice releasing my attachment to comfort. So I wasn’t getting what I wanted? I could get over it. Right? Maybe. I wasn’t sure.
2. I could always write about this. There’s always that.
3. This was a great opportunity for me to practice creative problem solving. So I couldn’t run. But I could still do other things outside. Maybe my daughter and I could ride bikes. That could be just as good.
4. My husband didn’t want me to be unhappy. This was just one of those somewhat rare situations where him getting what he wanted meant that I didn’t get what I wanted. This happens to a lot of parents. He was not selfish or evil. He was just trying to solve a problem of his. That he did it by giving me a problem didn’t mean he didn’t love me.
5. My husband might be my Holy spiritual guide or even a Buddha sent here to help me grow in my patience and compassion. I did not truly believe that (I never do), but this is one of those things that, because of the Karma Project, I’m trying to get myself to believe. So I always try that line on for size, and I then usually have a thought along the lines of “Meh” and “Perhaps in my next lifetime.”
6. On my deathbed, would I be happy that I was this pissed off about this? It’s not likely. If today were my last day, would I be wasting mental energy on this? It’s not likely.
7. Who was I hurting by being pissed off? Me.

So I let it go. I’d been assertive. I’d said my peace. I decided not to waste any more mental energy on it. I released my negativity and decided to embrace positivity for the rest of the day.

Or at least until something really pissed me off again.

The phone rang. It was my husband.

He said,  “You know, I think I can pick her up. Can you be home by 4?”

I said that I could. I ran. When I got back, I thanked him, and now we’re good.

UPDATES

* I have an article about marriage in the June issue of Parents magazine. You might want to check it out.

* I’ll be writing about the Lost Art of French Kissing for FoxNews.com. The premise is that people do it while they are dating. Then they get marriage and suddenly the passionate tongue kiss turns into a little peck instead. Have you successfully kept the tongue kiss alive in your marriage? If so, how? Or if you haven’t, do you miss it? If yes why? If not why? I’d love to hear from you. You can email me (alisa@alisabowman.com) or comment here. Let me know if it’s okay to quote you.