Quest for pizza
03 Sep '17 — Story of a bad day
After I failed to make pizza dough (4 hours of work that led to over fermented dough), my husband and I headed to my favorite pizza place. We were fifteen steps from the door when my husband started to walk intentionally slow. I was talking to him so I stopped.
It took me a moment to realize he was passively aggressively telling me to walk faster and not to stop. I started walking again, faster. He commented on my slow walking and mentioned how we stopped earlier. How was I incapable of walking and talking at the same time?
The passive aggressiveness that happened 15 steps in indicated to me that he was ready to pick a fight. I somehow didn’t consciously register. Instead, I got upset at how he got upset and reacted.
“Why can’t I walk slow? Why do we have to get there fast? Why don’t you walk ahead?” He responded by expressing the ridiculousness of my pace. I was walking normally, I thought. My husband didn’t offer ways of resolving the issue and I started to jog. I jogged all the way to the restaurant leaving my husband to walk by himself.
When he arrived, he wasn’t pleased. I ordered a bufala mozzarella pizza and sparkling water. My husband ordered a beer and a pizza with prosciutto. When his pizza arrived, we realized the server never put in my pizza order. Then my drink order got mixed up. My pizza came and it was the worst pizza I’ve had in Berlin. I nibbled at my husband’s pizza which was infinitely tastier.
This was my favorite pizza place. How could so much go so wrong. Sitting across was my husband, I made a few attempts to make my husband less upset. I was exhausted from spending 4 hours in the morning making pizza dough. Despite all my attempts, great pizza wasn’t going to happen.
“Okay, so that’s how it’s going to be today…” I started settling into having a bad day. But as I did, I realized more things went right than wrong. When I crossed the street, no random car ran me over, many have nearly done so in the past. My knee is operating today, sometimes it just doesn’t. And my lungs and heart are still miraculously working. The sidewalk didn’t cave in. That’s a lot of things that went right.
What seemed important, my pizza, my husband’s satisfaction with me, the sourdough I prepared, were only important after I established myself in a functioning body.
There are always going to be things that seem important. What’s important is not that they go right.
Whenever me and my husband are upset at each other, I make desperate attempts to try to clear things up. Explaining and sharing my feelings…extensively.
I’m somehow affected by tv shows and magazines that talk about how ‘couples need to communicate more.’ I desperately try to clear things up because I think it’s top priority. Today I realized it only seems this way.
I let it be. I apologized for jogging to the restaurant. He responded by saying he’d already forgiven me.
Later I realized that it’s when things don’t go right do I know how much my husband is willing to forgive and similarly when I have a chance to forgive. These are situations where we can actively love.
If you have to explain and clarify every single thing that could make another person satisfied, there would be an infinite number of things. Perhaps it’s unnecessary to get into the habit of over communicating.
I can’t be sure that there’s any faith unless there’s a leap to make.