If I’m very angry — which doesn’t happen often — I go for a long walk. If I’m frightened or sad, I’ll take refuge in a book or a computer game, or I’ll write a story. My novel was begun shortly after my father was diagnosed with the cancer that killed him. It was a place for me to go.
One way I have of coping is playing The Sims. There’s something calming about the overview it offers, watching characters go from infant to child to adult. Sims offer context.
I’ve always made my Sims’ lives as realistic as possible. Some of them are pretty — most are not, or at least, they aren’t after they have hit adulthood, started having kids, gained weight, etc. Most just look ordinary, like the rest of us. (herewith, one of my favorite Sims — the formidable Laurette.)
Playing The Sims stimulates the part of the brain that tells stories. When I retire for the night, as I drift off, I can think of them instead of lying awake and pointlessly worrying about the state of the world.
Pam Troy 