And now that the English lesson is over for the day, let us get on to more meaningful issues around this word. Like how do we cope? What coping mechanisms do we use in order to get through life? Are those means of coping, healthy or otherwise?
But here’s the catch… I don’t want you to tell me how you cope. I have enough dealing with my own means of coping. Tell yourself, instead. Tell yourself what coping mechanisms you use to manage physical or mental difficulties. Maybe you have both and so you need to tell yourself about both. And check with yourself, are they healthy or unhealthy? And perhaps more to the point, does it matter? Be honest with yourself. Know what it is that keeps you going.
And now I will get on with my post. I have had a means of coping with a particular aspect of my life, for a very long time. Actually I have used this means for as long as I can remember. I’m talking pre-school. I can’t remember when I didn’t do this as a way to cope. This is a very longstanding way to cope. And it worked. First as a child, and then as an adult.
There are only two occasions in my life where this coping mechanism of mine was denied (for want of a better word). Actually they were similar but different. One involved me sharing some small detail of my means to cope with another, and that other using it to abuse me. Obviously that didn’t work. The other refused to accept me if ‘me‘ included that means of coping
Both times I had to weigh up what was more important, my coping mechanism or the people involved. Both times it required a potentially life-changing decision. These people insisted I remove the coping mechanism from my life in order to have some type of connection with them. Actually I chose my means to cope with my life, and it hurt like hell. But… I never had a doubt that I had done the right thing.
For a third time, this week my means to coping was challenged. Actually it was more than challenged because of the environment involved. This time my means of coping was totally chucked out and I was told I ‘couldn’t use it anymore’. Gone.
If I could go into details, then I could go some way to explain just how devastating that has been. I can’t. But maybe it doesn’t matter so much because perhaps my feelings are what are important. I’m not sure if I can adequately put those in a few words but I will try.
Hurt, denied, shut out. I was fighting for air to breathe. Literally my means of life was being denied. It hurt to the extent that it felt my skin was being peeled off.
I know that it is difficult to comprehend, but go back to your own means of coping. Maybe one you used from childhood, or something you had to do to keep yourself alive as an adult? One that actually meant a difference between life and death. Now have that taken away from you, by someone important in your life. Maybe it’s happened to you already. Can you see now a little of how I might feel?
To be honest, I spent most of the week in denial. There was too much to do, people to face, it couldn’t work any other way. It simply was the only way to handle it, without totally losing it. But then I had to go back to the person who did it. That’s where it felt like my skin was being peeled off all over again. Fuck!
And I felt myself crumbling, not sure if myself even existed anymore…
“You think you’re lost but you’re not lost on your own. You’re not alone. I will stand by you, I will help you through when you’ve done all you can do.
If you can’t cope, I will dry your eyes
I will fight your fight, I will hold you tight and I won’t let go”
— Rascal Flatts