A critic is a man who knows the way but can’t drive the car.
~ Kenneth Tynan
After the stroke, doctors advised that my husband not drive for 30 days. He needs medical clearance to resume.
He is not comfortable relinquishing control. Refraining from backseat driving is not easy for him.
He loves to talk and frequently narrates life. His students love that about him.
After 35 years of marriage, I have learned to tune out some (okay, much) of what he says, even helpful instructions.
Since the stroke, each time I step into the car to drive in his presence, I set an intention to embrace any critique that arises, and to perceive it as an opportunity to learn.
If I can stay calm when provoked, I will improve. It is my quest to become anti-fragile.
Not putting the brake on backseat driving
The way I drive, the way I handle a car, is an expression of my inner feelings.
~ Lewis Hamilton
My husband insists I drive no faster than 10% above the speed limit on the highway. If I’m driving 112 km/hr when the speed limit is 100 km/hr, I will hear about it. He meticulously tracks and prides himself in getting the best gas mileage.
When my tolerance wanes and he vows not to say another word but then places his hand firmly on the dashboard as if to brake, I have to bite my tongue. Sometimes it hurts.
Teaching and testing opportunities frequently arise for the teacher. The safety narrative is ceaseless. I wonder how I’ve managed to stay alive without his guidance. After all, over the last couple of years, I was commuting in and out of the city, a two and a half hour drive weekly.
Sometimes, he instructs me on route, telling me to turn as needed. I become dependent, driving mindlessly until given the next instruction.
If one does not come, I may continue straight even when I should have turned.
Oh my gosh! He’s frightened.
In long car rides, including during a recent unexpected treacherous nighttime snowstorm, my competence wanes as the fear he exudes permeates every fibre of my being.
For me, the seemingly simple process of distinguishing left from right becomes completely inaccessible. My husband says right. I turn left. I feel incompetent.
Current research shows that one in six neurologically healthy individuals with above-average intelligence cannot quickly process left and right instructions at the best of times.
Okay, that makes me feel better. But, I’m determined to improve my processing of oral instructions.
Closing thoughts
Nothing happens to anybody which nature does not fit him to bear.
~ Marcus Aurelius
My husband has graciously consented each time I have featured him on my blog.
Five days left before he can drive again. We can hardly wait.
All health reassessments show no reason for safety concerns.
I suspect he will do everything in his power to avoid having me drive him around again. Me too.
We can’t control everything that happens to us, but we can control the way we respond.
In case it's not yet obvious, writing helps me make sense of why things happen for me, not to me.
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