Earlier in the day, I’d parallel parked on the crowded neighborhood street. Now, I was running late to pick up my kids. As I approached the car, I saw that not only had someone double parked, blocking me in, but also, the driver parked in front of me was struggling to maneuver out of his too-tight space. I could feel myself begin to fume.

Come on! I thought, drive your car, get out of my way! I quickly realized that the double parked car was his, too. He was trying to jockey the cars. But he was inept, inefficient. In my rush, my frustration levels rose.  

I don’t have time for this! But, I took a deep breath and outstretched my arms, indicating just how much space he had available to reverse before smashing into my minivan. It took him six or so passes to get the right angle, but once he did, he pulled forward and was free. I almost was able to exhale.

Before I could rejoice, a second driver suddenly came swooping in, blatantly stealing the newly opened space.

Whatever patience I had mustered was gone. Oh, no, no, no, you don’t! I need to get my car out of here! I marched up to the driver’s side window and knocked on the glass. But, instead of cursing him out (what I desperately wanted to do) I explained: the driver who had just pulled out, was freeing the space for his other vehicle that was double parked next to mine. And I needed to leave. Yesterday.

The driver indignantly said, “No. I’m here. It’s fine.” But it wasn’t fine. He didn’t get it. I wasn’t letting him get away with stealing the space, keeping me trapped.  

So for the second time in 10 minutes, with my temper screaming at me to let loose, I took a deep breath instead. I used my words. Practiced kindness. “Listen. He needs to move his car into this space. As soon as he does, I’ll leave, and you can have my space.” 23 words. That’s all. Tensions dropped. Smiles broke out. The formerly grabby driver relented, nodded, and pulled out of the stolen space. The parallel-parking-challenged man appreciatively touched my arm. “Thank you,” he said.

I got into my car. Gave a breath of gratitude for composure, empathy, patience. Turned the ignition and drove off to get my girls.

What does it take to be happy?

When I was a little girl, the hints that my grandmother dropped made me believe that, certainly, love wasn’t enough. If you were savvy, she’d say, you’d also find a way to have money. And intellect, too. If you were smart, you’d marry a man who was educated,  because that would less you to a higher station. And elevating your station, that was the ultimate goal.

For my immigrant grandmother, who never went to college, but who could finish the daily Washington Post crossword in under 10 minutes, happiness was something that you were granted by another person. Others were the sources. Find the right other, and boom! You’d be all set. And if that other also happened to make a good living? Well, then. Even better!

I internalized this message. So, as a girl, I developed crushes instead of skills, pursued boys instead of interests. I understood the endgame was to marry well. I wasn’t sure my chances, but I knew the charge.

So when I met my husband, a lovely, educated, stable man, I convinced myself that he was the right choice, for my grandmother. I dismissed my own desires to be seen and heard, not to be judged for being my silly, goofy self. I convinced myself that my need to be social, affectionate, warm did not matter as much a paid off mortgage, nice vacations, good credit. But here’s the thing: I was lonely. And loneliness does not bode well for boosting one’s happiness.

So, the pursuit of happiness. What does it really mean? It means being true to yourself, practicing self-kindness, granting yourself the freedom to pursue the activities and ideals that you want: Not someone else’s idea of what’s right for you.

I have decided to leave my marriage. A gut wrenching decision. And one that makes zero financial sense. But, I can feel my spirit begin to peek out from the shadows, to look toward the light, and to begin to dream about what possibilities, what internal happiness may be waiting for me.