This morning I was angry with my husband. Not just annoyed—angry. He was supposed to do something, he didn’t, and when I texted him about it, he replied with a laughing emoticon. That was it. The spark. I exploded inside.

But then life went on. I carried the anger with me, heavy in my chest, yet I still had lunch. My mom made ikan pepes—fish wrapped in banana leaves with coconut and spices, grilled until aromatic. I ate it, and it was delicious. And I thought: here I am, furious with my husband, and yet I’m still tasting, chewing, and living.

Maybe this is what marriage really teaches—its own kind of sadhana, a spiritual practice. I don’t only see the layers of him I love. I also see the ones that drive me crazy, the ones I want to rip out of him and throw away. But they are there, and I am here, and our life is stitched together out of both the laughter and the grudges.

So let this be my guide: I can be angry and still live my life. Anger doesn’t cancel gratitude. I still have a family, a home, and food on the table. Immense, abundant blessings.

And yes—my husband still has to do what he was supposed to do. No argue.

Karin Sabrina