Coping Quiet
Buggie with his favorite "uncle"
This morning I woke up to startling news about a dear friend’s health. It’s one of those situations which could be nothing, or could be very serious. Only time (and likely a barrage of tests) will tell which it will be. This man is the husband of one of my best friends, and has slowly become a friend of mine in his own right over the years. He is also incredibly close to Buggie.
I told O about it as I was driving him to work today. The rest of the drive passed in relative silence – a rarity around these parts, let me assure you. When questioned, O said he was thinking about M. It made me realize that I … mostly wasn’t. Not because I don’t care, but because I do. That’s how I cope with things – I put them to the back of my mind until I can fully process how to cope with it. I skip immediately into denial/distraction, moving along with life as if I hadn’t heard what I heard, until I can’t any longer.
My Gramma
This actually seems to be something of a family trait. It’s not only a matter of self-preservation and pride, but also of strength. There are a couple of us in the family – most notably myself and my Gramma – who have taken it upon ourselves to be The Strong Ones. It isn’t a matter of stoicism, nor of hiding our emotions. I’m absolutely no good at that; my face and eyes betray me, every time. It’s just a matter of putting our own feelings on the back burner while others may need us to be strong. For example, when my mother calls me with any kind of difficult news, I tend not to react right away. I get through the phone call, hang up, and only then do the tears come. She doesn’t need my pain to make hers all the worse.
Mind you, it’s not by any means a conscious decision. Sometimes, I wish it didn’t work the way it does for me. I would be able to heal faster, if I didn’t delay my pain. I know this, but my brain seems to not be wired that way. Instead, I grieve after the fact. I panic when the danger has gone. I cry when everyone else’s tears have dried.
