Life: Deal With It!

Life: Deal With It!

(Whinging Valley, Vortexia) – Deal with it! Get over it! How many times have we wished we could shout that at someone? The problem is, sometimes we need to shout it to ourselves. Why, I had to chastise myself just the other day to deal with an issue I would have rather ignored.

I can’t remember exactly what I was in such a dither about. Aging, most likely. Or perhaps the maddening, convoluted process of getting published. Maybe it was the fact that my father is battling lung cancer. Probably all three, with the latter providing the primary reason for wanting to hide my head in the proverbial sand.

Ah, denial, my dysfunctional friend. It’s such an attractive alternative in dealing with fear; in dealing with all of life’s imperfections. Indeed, I’ve perfected the art of pretending life is painless, that there’s no illness that can’t be cured and no life that can’t be resurrected. I imagine that I will live to be 100 and so will all of my friends and loved ones. I imagine every newlywed will be married happily ever after.

When accused of not being a realist, my defense, of course, is that I’m an optimist. But I delude myself; optimism is faith, and hope, in the face of reality. It allows us to tackle and defeat an enemy and move on. Denial is fantasy, pure and simple. It traps us in time and space and strangles any chance of gaining victory over our demons.

To deny the challenges and natural consequences of aging is illusory and just plain stupid. I might as well tell myself money grows on trees as believe growing old is a walk in the park.

And I’m learning to accept the goal of being a published novelist as the sadistic pursuit it is, rather than the romanticized image I once entertained. What a relief.

I will lose my dad some day. There’s no denying death, that grand-daddy of all fears, ever present boogey-man of our minds, thief of our peace and tormentor of our souls. It is the ultimate denial killer. After interviewing the Vicar of Baghdad recently, my pre-occupation with my father’s cancer subsided. There’s nothing like talking with someone who faces death everyday with a smile on their face to put it all in perspective. I’m no longer thinking of death in terms of “this side of the veil.” Instead, I’m training myself to look beyond the horizon into eternity.

So, after a two-week hiatus brought on by a writers’ conference, multiple manuscript submissions, and my dad’s health crisis, I’m back in Vortexia, refocused, rolling with the punches, raring to move on and deal with it.

It’s high time.