I keep busy.
On the bad days (or bad months), that can mean anything and everything. From, say, August 2011 to about December, I was rarely at my house for more than 2-3 hours a day. I would sleep, wake up, leave and go to work; after work, go directly to the gym for an hour or so, and then possibly drive 30 minutes to go see my grandmother, or some other thing. I was never home before about 7pm at night, which then gave me time to eat something, shower, watch about an hour of TV, and then go to bed. In January I invited a friend over to 'take care of me' for a weekend, and repainted my entire basement. At one point I was too tired to continue, and sat down for a while to rest. I started crying after about 5-10 minutes of doing 'nothing', so I got up and worked another few hours until I pretty much was too exhausted to think. Lather, rinse, repeat.
The weekends were hard to deal with in that regard, because it's much harder to fill up a day when work isn't there to take up 8-9 hours of it. One day I drove 1.5 hrs to a town, went shopping for about 30 minutes, and then drove 1.5 hours back... just so I wouldn't be at home. I spent a lot of those weekends sleeping at my mom's house on her couch, and even a few times on the floor of my grandmother's room in the nursing home. Anything that meant I wasn't alone (because alone = thinking and having to confront things).
Nowadays, it's better. I still keep busy, but I can deal with being at home for an evening, as long as it's not every evening. I still usually go out on weekends and visit my mother or my grandmother -- I haven't mastered the art of being by myself for 12 hours straight. I throw myself into projects -- web design, writing, video games, whatever. Most of the time I don't get them done, but it's less about the result than the process. I still go to the gym, but ironically I've been so busy this month that I haven't really had time.
So yeah. I guess you could say that I don't cope. I stay so busy I don't have to. Or maybe that's a form of coping, too.