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* You should take my advice when it comes to bad luck. I've had plenty. Over a span of seven years, disasters of every sort rained down on me: fire, car crash, divorce, cancer--you name it. It got so bad that my mother would caution me before I went out on a date: "Don't tell him everything at once." When I meet people who have read my recently published memoir, Nothing to Fall Back On, they often ask me, in a grave voice usually reserved for the critically ill, "How are you?" I'm fine, thank you, and a little wiser about hanging on to my sanity when the worst that can happen does.
My dark streak started on a snowy February day in 1983, when the taxicab I was riding in plowed into another ear, breaking my jaw and knocking out most of my teeth. It took several rounds of reconstructive surgery and nearly a year of not looking in the mirror to recover. Three years after the car accident, coincidentally on another snowy February day, my husband of 17 years told me that he had discovered he was gay.
Some people keep personal disasters a secret, particularly when they involve the sexual orientation of their spouse. Not me. I tend to blurt things out when the news is bad. The worse it is, the more graphic I get. It blunts the scariness of whatever has happened and takes it out of the realm of the secret and into the light of reality. So I immediately called everyone I knew and told them the news. During the early days after my divorce, I couldn't imagine how I would get through it. When I admitted this to friend, she said, "Well, you've gotten through the first 36 hours. Nothing else will be as hard." After that, each hour seemed like progress, and each week like a miracle. Reaching out to a friend and taking her advice to heart was a lifesaver. By the time my country house burned down six months later, I had gotten good at putting one foot in front of ...
Source: HighBeam Research, How to stay sane under stress: magazine editor and perpetual optimist...