One day I looked at something in myself that I had been avoiding because it was too painful. Yet once I did, I had an unexpected surprise. Rather than self-hatred, I was flooded with compassion for myself because I realized the pain necessary to develop that coping mechanism to begin with.
I have an unusual hobby: I collect pictures of people I don't know. It started when I was a kid growing up in South Florida, the land of junk stores, garage sales, and flea markets, as a kind of coping mechanism.
As authors, we all expect criticism from time to time, and we all have our ways of coping with unfriendly reviews.
So when you're dealing with an existential threat like death or like climate change, if you see it as 'we are all toast anyway,' then denial is a pretty good way of coping.
In 1960 I published a book that attempted to direct attention to the possibility of a thermonuclear war, to ways of reducing the likelihood of such a war, and to methods for coping with the consequences should war occur despite our efforts to avoid it.
I choose not to think of my life as surviving, but coping.
When I was in my 20s, I thought that being known for 'Swimming Pool' was kind of a burden. Like, 'OK, everyone thinks I am this tanned bimbo,' and I was having problems coping with that image.
I'm a great aficionado of history. I was deeply affected by seeing the disintegration of any chance of democracy coping with fascism in the Weimar republic, where woolly-minded, well-meaning liberalism actually allowed the forces of darkness to use democracy, to exploit democracy, to overturn democracy.
I've always had a quirky way of looking at things. It's my coping mechanism.
Lying is not only a defense mechanism; it's also a coping mechanism and a survival technique.