Coping in this Damndemic
As everyone who isn’t living in a sealed vault at the bottom of the Marianas Trench knows, we’re now in the midst of the End Times. Or, at least, a period that seems pretty darned End-Times-adjacent.
It’s this annoying coronavirus thing, sure. But not just that. I’m really talking about the whole nerve-jangling hell storm of apocalyptic madness we’re enduring: riots in the streets, “1984”-ish mind vomit being spewed as normal discourse, cult worship of the The Dunce Who Would Be King (whose name shall not be uttered here, except to say it sounds a lot like Chump). And don’t even get me started on the recent, ill-advised resurrection of “Lost,” a TV series that strung us along in breathless anticipation for six years, only to reveal itself in the end as a brazen, disillusioning swindle.
So, of course, this means we’re all having to retrieve our coping strategies from the attic, dust them off, and strap them on tight to get through this existential nightmare.
Like many people in these dystopian times, I’ve been experiencing what I believe is a common reaction, which is to ask myself a question: “What can I do to help make things better for those around me?” My answer is to offer you, on this page, dear fellow sufferer, a few examples of the kinds of invaluable coping skills I’ve been relying on to get by, with the hope that you also will be inspired to call upon similar survival tools.
Following are seven coping techniques that are among my favorites:
1. Cataloging my pet peeves. Reviewing one’s list of petty grievances can lead to a satisfying series of cathartic mini-rants (just ask my wife). A linguistic example of one that pushes my vexation button lately is the use of the wonderfully redundant term “pre-planning.” Evidently, mere planning falls short as a bulwark against the fiascos inherent in leaving things to the last minute for those who really, really don’t want to find themselves unpre-prepared (or, perhaps pre-unprepared). Admittedly, this is the sort of fussy view one can sometimes develop when one is a journalism major, if one is not careful.
2. Viewing the images from my “mildlife” camera. Based on the pictures from the game cam I’ve attached to the cherry tree in our back yard, our property is evidently on the tourism route used by harmless (and blissfully ignorant) local woodland creatures and domestic pets. We are positively captivated by the daily parade of bunnies, raccoons, squirrels, opossums, the odd deer, and our neighbor’s two tuxedo cats, Ernie and Gina. I’m still waiting for the elusive Chupacabra to happen by. Wouldn’t that be somethin’.
3. Studying the list of bodyweight exercises I’ve compiled. In theory, these moves will help me get ripped at home while avoiding pesky gym fees. Not that I’m likely to actually do any of these maneuvers, of course. What am I, nuts? I’m in my 60s, for Pete’s sake! But I do feel a warm, sweaty glow just knowing about them.
4. Skyping with my 80-something parents. You might assume that this would be an exercise in techno-frustration … and you’d be right. But it builds character for me and helps them remember what I look like.
5. Viewing inspirational YouTube videos. Can there be anything more emotionally gripping than 1950s Welsh clog dancing? Or cats and birds cavorting harmlessly as friends? Or a guy folding pizza boxes at superhuman speed — “like a boss”? One swells with admiration.
6. Buying useless stuff online just to have social contact with people from outside of my neighborhood. Granted, the interactions with delivery drivers are decidedly limited in scope and duration. But still…
7. Planning for disaster. Given current circumstances, this sounds like the classic slam-the-country-portal-after-the-equine-egress-has-occurred scenario. And yet, there are many other horses still in the barn. Which is to say, lots of other emergencies for which to plan — excuse me, pre-plan. It is possible to multitask, to formulate schemes to manage a variety of predicaments even while we are already in the middle of one. I and my sweet and long-suffering wife (and, really, what wife isn’t?) do a monthly what-if exercise, in which we conceive of some sort of calamity that might befall us and envision how we would deal with it. Here’s a representative sample:
The local Safeway has run out of KIT KAT® bars, and won’t be getting any more for at least two weeks. What would be the closest alternative KIT KAT® source?
Anyone can do this kind of invaluable prepping and be better for it.
I don’t claim that these strategies will work for everyone. But they’re worth a try. Besides, what’ve you got to lose but your dignity?
Until things get better or the world ends (take your pick), here’s hoping you’re coping!
