Disengaging

So, I've been gone for awhile.

About a month ago, I found out I was going to need to have some surgery. (Nothing life-threatening or even particularly serious, just stuff that had to be done.) I hate going to the doctor and generally don't do it unless I'm on the brink of certain death, though I do try to be vigilant about having my annual exam. Sometimes it happens every other year, instead, though my current doctor says that's okay for a monogamous woman of my age. But this year, I was taken by surprise when my doctor discovered a problem of which I had no knowledge at all.

I don't like surprises. My husband knows that to throw me a surprise party would not be perceived as a thoughtful gesture but, instead, an ambush. So I wasn't happy when I found out that my sabbatical schedule needed to be adjusted to include pre-op visits, surgery, and several weeks of recovery time. My usual response to a surprise of this nature is to just hunker down, disengage from my feelings of shock and get very, very practical. When I found out I needed surgery, I started doing research and spending time with my family; everything else fell by the wayside. When I had my car accident last spring, everyone at the accident site kept giving me this odd look, this "Why is she so calm? She just totaled her car!" look. Because there I was, calmly standing by the side of the road, drinking the coffee I'd salvaged from my totaled car. I cried later, at home--but in the face of surprise, I disengaged.

I'm smart enough to know that life isn't predictable or under anyone's control. I spend a lot of time trying to get my students to understand this--to understand that they will find themselves dealing with situations they can't foresee, can't even imagine, no matter how careful and practical they are. Young people tend to believe that if you find yourself in trouble, it's because you screwed up and deserve to be in trouble. (Or because someone else screwed up, and you're unfairly stuck paying the price of their carelessness. Life isn't fair, they know, but fair is different from out of control.) It takes a certain level of maturity before people understand that, sometimes, stuff just happens. It's possible to develop lung cancer when you've never smoked a cigarette. It's possible to feel perfectly healthy on the day you find out you're not in perfect health.

It's hard to live with that kind of uncertainty. Some people learn to live with it very early on, as a result of serious illness or tragedy, but most young people honestly believe it's possible to control their destinies. That's why young people so often take chances that older people won't; older people have learned that so much is beyond their control, they might as well be cautious when they can.

I know that anything can happen at any moment. Sometimes that knowledge is almost too much to bear; sometimes, just watching my kids walk through the door after school feels like a miracle. But I also know that whatever happens in this life, I'll push through it and get back on track somehow. I'll get through it by disengaging, paring down to the essentials--perhaps for a very long time. Disengaging isn't the same as denial, because denial means refusing to deal with the situation, and I deal with everything, eventually. But only when I'm ready.

I'm dealing with things now, writing this, coming back into the world after some time away.