Coping Strategies

When I was a kid, my mother was always after me about coping. "You need to learn to cope!" she'd say when I hurt myself or something surprising caused me to cry. My Grade One report card noted that I "had a lot of potential but [cries] too much." Mum was sure that swimming lessons would help me learn to cope so I started as soon as I was tall enough to touch the bottom. I learned to swim but there always seemed to be a shortfall on the coping side.

It stuck. I believed I was bad at coping until about five years ago. I almost coped myself to death that year while I managed a miscarriage mostly on my own. After I got home from the hospital and started to get over the shock, I kept thinking about how I had finally learned to cope. When I shared this insight with a colleague, he was SHOCKED. He told me that in fact I was one of the very best copers he knew. 

Huh.

I started looking at a lot of things and realized he was right. I completely let go of the idea that "I can't cope" and realized I'd been coping very well in the face of all kinds of professional and personal stuff for years, I just hadn't framed it as coping. The voice in my head was so committed to the old script that it hadn't even noticed it didn't apply anymore. [This happens all the time of course but we don't often have a chance to question an entire way of thinking and eliminate it, full stop.]  Once the old script stopped playing, I started to notice a lot of ways I was coping well.

I've got a lot to ruminate about here but let me skip ahead to yesterday.

Our condo was flooded. 

Our upstairs neighbour had a technician in to do some work and while they were running some cable they >negatively impacted< the sprinkler system. The sprinkler went off in her unit, the alarm system went off, the building was evacuated, the fire department came, and the water ran for awhile. 

Dave was working at home when this started and I was working at my office downtown (sounds fancy when I say it that way; it's not). It had been a wildly stressful week and I was finally making a little bit of headway. Dave called just before 4:00 and asked if I'd seen his text. No. "OK. Well, everyone is fine but there's water in the condo." And then he gave me the highlights. 

My husband is pretty well always calm and doesn't panic easily (unless he doesn't know what he's eating for his next meal and when); apart from a minor hitch in his story, I sensed things were under control. I asked how much water there was and he said, "Well, it's wet." I asked if I should come home early and he said, "Yes, if you can. I think you probably will want to see it." I assured him I'd be along, tell our neighbour not to worry about it, no big deal I needed the floors mopped anyway (who has time for that?). Packed up, told a few people there was some water to see about, and I'd let them know if it was anything serious but surely not.

I drove home, Blue Rodeo on the radio, not too concerned, Dave probably just needed to get out the mop...

This is the point where believing I cope well becomes key. If I thought I was bad at coping, I would have freaked out when Dave called. Even if I hadn't freaked out then, I might have given in to worry and driven a hundred miles an hour to get home, or at least rushed in when I got there and saw three fire department vehicles, a disaster clean up company, and an electrician parked in the driveway. Or when I saw the hoses being run inside. Or the puddles in the hallway. Or I might have been rude to or flustered with the technician I met in the elevator who turns out to be the person who pushed the cable that hit the sprinkler system. Instead I commiserated about bad days and told him that it'll be fine and, "In good news, I got my second dose of vaccine this morning!" Thumbs up. And then he pointed out his manager who was already on scene when we got to the floor above ours and I saw the water in the hallway. I had a few chats with folks, told my neighbour's sister to tell her not to worry, please, and then I went downstairs to our place.

The me who believed she was a poor coper might have freaked out when they saw water pouring out of our light fixtures. Or water all over the floor. Or pots and buckets everywhere. Or a large candleholder that had been turned into a garbage can. Or the garbage can on the counter catching water. Or water dripping all over the newly painted bathroom. Or pooling in the light fixtures. Or or or.

Instead, I tried to ride the excitement without adding to it by freaking out. I shifted into another gear. I can usually find this gear when I need to, when things could get overwhelming, or someone else might get overwhelmed. What could I do? I asked lots of questions. I called the insurance company. Dave kept asking why I was dancing while I was on the phone; it was involuntary but I think I was burning off energy to keep it from building up. Dave found us a place to stay for the night, for awhile, and I had good chats with all manner of specialists who came into the condo and took a million photos and then talked about how we'll need to find somewhere to stay because our electrical panel needed to be replaced before the power could be switched back on, plus, you know, the dripping. And they talked about how we'll need to be out for "a while" and after everything is assessed and accounted for they'll work through a process and then pack everything up for storage while the condo is fixed up. You know, just floors, walls, ceilings, light fixtures, etc. 

I called one of my best friends and gave her the high speed version of what was happening. She asked how I was and I said I was good. Focused on what needs to be done. Looking a the big picture and focusing on the good -- it wasn't sewer or fire and no one was hurt. We have insurance. Jobs that allow us the flexibility to deal with things when stuff happens. A vehicle that got me quickly from work to home, and would get us from home to a hotel. We can afford to make our own arrangements for a hotel (we're keeping all of the receipts). I needed my floors done anyway. I wanted to replace the light fixtures from 2006 anyway. And and and. Lucky. Privileged. No right to complain. I told her I was coping well and then laughed. "But we both know that at some point I'm going to Lose My Sh*t over something incredibly small." We laughed and laughed and laughed. We both know that it's true and I will and even that will be fine.

More to come. CLEARLY.