Coping: It's Not Just Hanging On

In a text yesterday, with a friend who is going through his own dementia journey caring for his wife, I used the word “coping.” It was the right word used in the right context but, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that word since yesterday.

When you hear the word coping, what comes to mind?

Probably not something fun. You’re not “coping with a vacation” or “coping with a surprise inheritance.” Coping is almost always tied to something hard—grief, stress, illness, change. It usually signals that someone is just barely keeping their head above water.

But here’s the twist: coping has another meaning. One that’s actually kind of…crafty.

If you’ve ever done any woodworking or home improvement (or wandered into a hardware store with confidence you didn’t earn), you may have come across a coping saw. It’s a thin, flexible saw used to make detailed cuts—especially when you need one piece of wood to fit snugly against another at some weird angle. It’s not about hacking something apart. It’s about precision. Fitting. Shaping.

Now hang with me, because this got me thinking.

Isn’t that a better way to think about coping in the emotional sense, too?

Coping isn’t just about surviving the storm. It’s about figuring out how to shape yourself around a new reality. Maybe life took a sharp turn, and now you are trimming off some old expectations or reshaping the edges of what used to be familiar. It’s slow work. It takes patience. And honestly, some days you might feel like you’re using the wrong end of the saw.

The root of the word cope actually comes from old languages meaning “to strike” or “to contend.” In other words, to deal with something head-on. It wasn’t originally about quietly suffering—it was about showing up and doing what needed to be done, whether that meant going to battle or learning to live with a new normal.

So maybe we should stop treating coping like it’s something sad and pitiful. It’s not weakness. It’s craftsmanship. It’s adaptive, creative, even a little gritty.

“If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?”
― T.S. Eliot

We’re not falling apart—we’re just figuring out how to fit into a new corner of life. One careful cut at a time.

What My Car Battery Taught Me About Potential

If you are one of the 19 people that consistently reads my blog, you know that I’ve been caregiving full-time for my wife, Carol for quite a while. It’s not a job I was trained for. There’s no manual, no certification. Just love, patience, leaning on God, and trying to recall how Carol handled things... and trying to do what she would have done.

But it's an unusual kind of exhausting. Not split a cord of firewood exhausting, not carrying your wife's shopping bags at the outlets exhausting, not taking off those post-workout yoga pants exhausting, no—the emotional and mental kind. For a long time, I didn’t even notice how depleted I had become. I was getting through each day like an iPhone 6S that only charges to 12% no matter how long it’s plugged in. Running on fumes, on my last leg, [insert favorite idiom here.]

Almost a year ago, I finally did something that felt almost radical: I hired someone to help me. Her name's Joanne. She comes three days a week. Six hours a day. 18 hours out of the week's 168. That’s it. But those three days give me back pieces of myself. Time to walk. Read. Think. Breathe. Write. Enjoy a $7 coffee. Remember that I’m still in here.

I started to feel like… me again.

And it got me thinking about energy. Not the caffeinated kind, but the deeper kind. The kind we all carry quietly—the stuff we call potential.


So Here’s Where the Battery Comes In

For almost 33 years I worked for a company that, among other things, produced a lot of battery-powered vehicles. So I know a bit about storage batteries. I promise this isn’t going to be a science lesson. But stick with me: a lead-acid battery (like the one in most non-EV cars) contains something called potential energy. It’s the power stored inside, just waiting to be used. Not buzzing. Not active. Just… ready.

A fully charged battery isn't a box of electricity though. It actually is a box of chemical potential energy. When a demand/ load is wired to it, there is a chemical reaction that immediately starts to occur (I'll spare you those details) that converts the chemical energy into electrical energy. But, as that chemical reaction occurs, the battery ingredients do start to lose some of the potential for energy. The lead materials convert to different forms of lead with lower potential energy. The dilute sulfuric acid changes and starts to move towards the chemical direction of water. But, even with repeated use, the battery still has potential.

That’s what I think we lose track of when life gets hard—especially when we’re feeling depleted from responsibilities, loss/grief, working too much, or simply surviving. We forget that even when we’re worn down, we still have energy inside us. It’s still there. It didn’t vanish. It’s just been slowly depleted by life.

Maybe you’re like I was—still functioning, still doing all the stuff, but forgetting what it feels like to be plugged into something that starts getting you back to full charge.


But, You Don’t Have to Always Be Fully Charged

Enough about me and my car battery. The truth? You don’t need to be at 100% to make a difference. A battery at 55% can still light up a room. You can still write, connect, smile, make someone’s day, or still tell people why you think about the Roman Empire.

We think potential has to look Instagram ready and strong. But often it looks like getting out of bed, getting dressed and walking around the block. Or calling a friend back. Or sitting with a quiet thought long enough to hear yourself think again. Or talking to God (that's a whole other power source conversation.)

The point is to keep the current flowing. Use the potential.

Recharge Without Guilt

Rest isn’t laziness. It’s physics. Help asked (or hired) isn't weakness. Took me some time to accept this. Today is Saturday. For many folks this is a recharge day. I have a friend who is celebrating a birthday today. I texted her Happy Birthday and asked her how she was spending her birthday. She said she was hanging out with her family. Recharge. I have another friend who is about to leave for the beach for their annual summer beach trip. Recharge.

Even the most powerful batteries need downtime. Recharging, especially after caregiving or loss or burnout, isn’t selfish—it’s how you make sure your light can last. It's the process that puts the energy potential back to it's optimum state. A battery that stays in an ongoing state of discharge eventually breaks down.

But, the beautiful part? Every little recharge you allow yourself gives you more to give. I'm a better caregiver when I keep the battery healthy.

Energy Vampires

I have an old Ford Taurus that has something that isn't obvious that constantly but slowly drains its battery. Mechanics call it a parasitic drain. Something less obvious that is draining energy. Even a good battery can get drained fast if it has somehow gotten connected to the wrong stuff. Be mindful of people, habits, or expectations that leave you feeling more drained than you ought to be. We have enough in our life that are the necessary energy consumers. We don't need the parasitic kind.

Boundaries are insulation. Use them. I've had to use them a lot given our circumstance.

I think I've learned some things as Carol and I have navigated this dementia journey. One is that I'm no good to Carol or anybody if I waste my potential. So that requires some battery maintenance. Rest, Relax, Recharge, Respite.

You need it too.

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Help!

 

My collection of Beatles' albums on vinyl isn't as extensive as I'd like. Most of my albums are the earlier ones, purchased in the mid-60s. I don't regret that at all though. In 1965, the Beatles released their 5th album, "Help!" In the UK, it was released on Parlophone Records with 14 song tracks. Unfortunately, I purchased the North America released "Help!" movie soundtrack album (photo of my album cover above) on Capitol records which did not contain all 14 songs from the original album but did contain some other tracks that were in the movie.

Most songs do not begin with the song title as the very first thing you hear when the song begins. But "Help!" does just that. I find that very appropriate.

I like everything about the song. It gets straight to the point. It's pretty simple like many of the Beatles' early songs. It has great instrumentation and harmonies.

But it also speaks some powerful truth. And it speaks to something many, if not most of us, have a hard time doing... asking for help.

From our earliest years as toddlers we yearn to become more and more independent. And parents of teenagers can give testimony to how that continual process brings challenges into family relationships. In Western culture, we are conditioned to not want to be seen as needing help except in the most innocuous or widely commonplace ways. From my experience and observation, men especially struggle with asking for help. It might partially explain some of the things we see occur all around us that can be dysfunctional on one end of the scale or can be fatal on the other. We see it frequently... somebody didn't seek out help or, if they did, they didn't receive what was needed.

We all need some help. I'm no different.

Those of you that read my amateur and infrequent blog know about my wife's dementia. I've shared in earlier blogs some of what that looks like and I've shared some PSA type info from our experience and my observations.

I've known for quite a while now that caregiving is hard and can grind you down. And, as disease progression continues, it gets even harder and can be more of a grind. Many of us that are providing care for a loved one know that we need help but, like me, many of us keep putting it off for any number of reasons. One reason is the hesitation to admit that we can't do it all ourselves. We can be uncomfortable asking for help.

The lyrics to the Beatles' song go like this:

"(Help) I need somebody

(Help) Not just anybody

(Help) You know I need someone

Help."

Those were the words that I kept postponing.

But, no more.

Two weeks ago I hired a caregiver to give me some much needed... help.

And, after entering our 3rd week, I'm dumbfounded that I waited so long.

Joanne is wonderful and is exactly the "somebody" that isn't just "anybody" but, she is exactly who I (and Carol) needed.

We all need some help. Ask for it or go get it.

Help! lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Listen to "Help" on YouTube

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