Jim Gaffigan on adjusting to the painful new reality:

How are you holding up?

Are you over it? I’m over it. I’m fine. At least, at times I think that. It’s obviously not what I wanted but that’s life. I’m not going to lie. It been an adjustment, but the world continues to spin.

And I’m an adult. I have children that are counting on me. I mean, they don’t listen to me, but I can’t just curl up in a ball and mope.

Sometimes I’m embarrassed how detached I feel about it. The me from September would be ashamed of how well I’m holding it together. I’ve become the person giggling at a funeral.

I’ll admit it: I was blindsided, but I knew this could happen. I prided myself on being the contrarian when all the other supporters were putting the cart before the horse. I’ve done my research. I read all the articles. I know the history. This has happened before. Not that long ago!

It will probably happen again.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I do think about it. Mainly in the morning. It mostly lingers for a moment wanting to own my whole day. As I get my coffee, I always ask the same questions: “Is this real? How did this happen?”

I’ve done a deep dive on all the numbers, trying to figure out who’s to blame. Sometimes I think I care too much. Other times I feel my emotional state means I’ve lost the ability to empathize.

I’m a numb shell of a former compassionate human.

It happens every morning. Then I shake it off, wake my kids up for school, and face the reality: The New York Jets are not going to make the playoffs. They have Aaron Rodgers, Davante Adams, and that defense! All those weapons!  And they’re done.

It’s brutal.

Anyway, I’m okay. We’re going to be okay.

Maybe…     

     
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Story produced by Lucie Kirk. Editor: Remington Korper. 

     
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