The State of Denial

Isn't it funny how we block out things we don't want to think about?
I have some friends who are masters at it, and I call them on it all the time. But I didn't realize how much I deny when I'd just rather not deal with difficulties.
This realization came on Monday afternoon when my friend Ruth in Michigan called.
"What's going on? How was your weekend?" she asked.
I knew that Ruth had a big birthday party over the weekend, so I paused for just a minute trying to remember my weekend.
"Nothing much," I said. "I babysat for the girls on Saturday evening and Sunday morning. So that was fun. Fought with Spencer about whether college students have curfews, the usual. How bout you?"
Then I paused so she could tell me the details of her party.
After the party overview, I said, "Oh, did I tell you about my job?"
I'd found out Friday that the college where I teach is cutting back on hours for adjuncts, which basically means I need to start looking for a new job. The excuse is the new IRS rules which only allows us 18 hours per week rather than 30 -- and that's 18 contact hours, so only 9 hours that we are getting paid for. It's complicated, but means about half of the paychecks I was earning before so the college can avoid having to contribute to health insurance for adjuncts.
"And," I continued, "did I tell you that Grace drove the car through the back of the garage on Sunday?"
"What? No."
I explained that Grace thought she had clipped a bike tire as she was pulling into the garage and in trying to slam on the brakes, she hit the gas instead.
Crash! Thunk!.

I was in the kitchen when I looked into the backyard to see this.
I went running out and had to go around to the big garage door to reach Grace.
She was okay. Just shaken up, as anyone would be.
"So maybe my weekend wasn't as fine as I said earlier," I admitted.
"I guess not," Ruth laughed. And that's when I remembered the latest thing, the biggest, scariest thing.
"Oh, and my mom just called from Dad's heart test. They're doing triple bypass surgery tomorrow."
"Oh, no," Ruth said. "I'm sorry."
I was too.
But I can write about it now because the surgery is complete and he came through "a textbook" patient, which I hope is good.
I can't fly to be with my mom in Florida, but my brother is on his way and should be there soon to help her with the hospital visits.
So, other than needing to find a new job, get the car repaired, get the garage repaired, and my dad undergoing major surgery, the weekend was fine.
I wasn't in denial at all.