Coming clean about my pandemic experience: anxiety, self-pity, jealousy and… limited gratitude
I slept poorly last night. Not asleep but not really awake: ruminating in a daze for what felt like hours. I gradually convinced myself I had long haul Covid. 100% convinced. I computed the facts: low energy, shoulder aches and difficulties concentrating (even on Schitt’s Creek or the New York Magazine approval matrix which says it all). In my insomnia, it finally all made sense: I must have caught the virus months ago, not noticed it and now long-haul Covid is slowly incapacitating me. I woke up depressed trying to put on a cheerful attitude for the boys.
As the clouds in my mind cleared up in the early afternoon as they often do, I became less and less certain. In fact, I most certainly do not suffer from long-haul Covid. I got an antibodies test last summer, the twins had a negative test recently and I took the Pixel at-home test (which by the way I recommend) before heading down to DC.
Instead, last night fits into a pattern of anxious thoughts which have been plaguing me for months. My angst cover many topics from the education of my children to my housing situation and a general feeling of being overwhelmed and not being able to ever catch up. Most nights I ruminate in a restless half-sleep for several hours.
Anxiety disorder and long-haul Covid symptoms are very similar: feeling tired, trouble concentrating (the now infamous Covid “brain fog”) and muscle aches.
I have spent most of the pandemic oscillating between anxiety and gratitude with a marked preference for anxiety. I do feel grateful for having a job and an income, a roof over my head and being with my sons. As I was driving through DC last week, Eitan pointed out to a homeless man begging at a street light and tearily said “I hope he finds a home”. On Facebook, I witnessed so many friends losing their elderly parents — particularly this month — and I lost several friends and role models this year. Misery, despair and death is all around us. Despite the high walls we built to shield ourselves from Covid-related suffering, we still catch glimpses of it. I feel obviously incredibly privileged. But I often experience self-pity for being far from any family at this moment, for having had to leave the city, the uncertainty about my living situation, the financial burden or the additional parental responsibilities which came with the pandemic.
I also often feel jealous of people who seem to be flourishing during these hard times — even enjoying it — on social media. In a text a friend responded “Life is great actually!” to my question “How is life?”. The exclamation point is what did it for me: I ended the conversation right there. I still harbor a resentment about it: how can life be “great” for anybody these days? How can one not have a vague feeling of mourning and grief?. Life will never be the same and you have to be a complete moron not to see that. And what about that Facebook friend which felt necessary to regale us with pictures of her Caribbean remote work arrangement? did she consider for a minute that the sons and daughters of the 65,000 people who died in the US in December alone might be on her feed? How can I not also resent people that perfected their bodies during the pandemic when I treated my constant anxiety with bags of Halloween candy putting on 12lbs in a few months? And finally my recent indignation at the couple who headed to the Riviera Maya (a horrendous name by the way) for the holidays is of course tainted of jealousy. I too wish my 401K would have gone through the roof while me and my handsome husband decided to spend the pandemic in a beach bungalow visited daily by our personal fitness instructor.
If I unfollow one more person on my Facebook feed, there will only be advertising for TalkSpace left.
I was complaining about it to a friend recently and he said “but you too look like you are having a blast on Instagram!”. It hit home. Indeed, one should never trust the way we portray ourselves on social media. I am definitely not having a blast, I am coping the best I can but mostly I feel anxious. All the time. So I wanted to share this with you so you know I have not had the best of times. I started seeing a therapist (more like calling than seeing really) to deal with anxiety and I am taking small steps like not picking up my cell constantly or listing three things I am grateful for everyday. Today I included “not suffering from long-haul Covid”.