Lockdown PTSD

Image from Freepik

We have been in a form of lockdown since March 2020, which in case you have lost count of what day it is (don’t blame you), was a year ago. I actually contracted the virus last March. It feels surreal to contemplate that fortnight of horrendous illness being bed-ridden and in a lot of pain while there was chronic scare mongering all over the news. I recovered, obviously because I am writing the words you are reading, but with my own set of complications. Since then we have been in and out of lockdown but mostly in. The first one felt apocalyptic. What even is a pandemic? Is this a practical joke? Are we actually being forced to stay in our homes? After having Covid-19, I realised the severity of the situation pretty quickly and felt absolutely no friction in adhering to the rules. It took some people I know a little longer to adjust their lifestyle inline with the government guidelines. But we did. We changed everything. And we did so gladly. 

Then the sun came out and we were pretty over staying indoors. By summer, I think we all felt we deserved to be outdoors. Yes, yes, we understand how serious this is but don’t you think it has been long enough now? I’m bored. The banana bread is stale and I’ve got Zoom fatigue. Cue images of the beaches more packed than a can of sardines fished from the ocean. The city centres and business districts may have been quiet, but the suburban postcodes were chocca with tinnies and brown paper bags, portable speakers and ice cream wrappers. 

Lockdown number 2 got dark, and so did the days. Shorter daylight hours meant less opportunity to fit in a walk around work hours. SAD sufferers felt the strain of autumn rolling into winter and suddenly the situation became far more sinister. Yes, we are protecting ourselves and others by staying home, but rates of increased suicide and reduced cancer diagnosis’s showed how detrimental the repercussions of this never ending limbo really were. Personally, I found that second lockdown really difficult. I’d marched through the first one citing quotes from Channel 4 News and feeling like an anti-spreader crusader. By November, my footsteps were lacklustre, my self-diagnosed introversion had waned and I was craving connection. Spending 24 hours a day with one person, who yes, I love, is hard. With no external stimulation the déja vu is nightmarish. My partner and I both struggled at different times but it made life challenging for the other when we were trying to enjoy a week where we didn’t feel so low. Then there were my thirtieth plans cancelled - fine, I’m a big girl and can park my sequins for now. Oh and you’re cancelling Christmas? Right, well, you know, I get it’s just another day but I really bloody needed that change of rhythm and a bit of laughter and drama with my family. I know I am so unbelievably fortunate in a myriad of ways, but December hurt.

By January the blues had subsided. I felt adjusted. The new normal had become, well, normal. I stopped trying to achieve world domination and attempting to become a yogi queen (who can’t touch her toes) and just enjoyed the time to read and stretch. My partner and I came up with ways to add some colour to the days that could easily roll into one. Some fun emerged. I arranged to go on 1:1 walks to get some of that connection I so desperately craved and it helped. All in all, as the days got brighter so did I. After thirty years of avoiding the kitchen I was introduced to the joys of cooking. I became a certified Married At First Sight addict and relished the uninterrupted nights in. I stopped waiting for ‘freedom’ to wear a colourful top or put on lipstick, I gave myself permission to look cute even though I wasn’t going anywhere. I had this lockdown-life sussed!

February arrives and we finally get the news we’ve all been waiting for. We have been delivered the light at the end of the tunnel. “Have you made loads of plans now? Where do you want to travel first?”, a friend asked me on the weekend referring to the post-lockdown months rolling ever closer to us. “Oh! Er, no, not really. I have a wedding and my mum booked us tickets for Kew Gardens but that’s in December. Nothing else really.” Shit! Am I supposed to be booking things? Are all my friends’ calendars going to be filled with reservations and belated birthdays and there I am still revelling in my introversion. 

I spent weeks pining for the life I had before it all changed. But now I’ve adjusted and there is some real fear about what it will be like when the rules are lifted. It seems I am not the only one with lockdown PTSD. When I asked Instagram how others felt about it, people wrote to me sharing the root of their anxieties. There is the contradictory state of being excited and filled with dread all at the same time. Some are suffering from straight up terror. One friend said she constantly felt dirty and is afraid of infecting people despite not having Covid-19. These concerns, worries, fears are real and not to be scoffed at.

I used to find some joy in my commute using it as an opportunity to smash out a number of podcasts and even squeeze in some reading time if I got a seat. Now the thought of having to hand two hours of my day back over to the TFL and be in close proximity to strangers is nauseating. I have developed low-level paranoia within my friendships. A best friend sent a message to a Whatsapp group and I was convinced it was a dig at me. I messaged her directly trying to wiggle out of whatever I thought she thought I had done. A voice note came straight through saying “I would never do that! If I thought that I would talk to you directly, I wouldn’t be so shady and mean!” Oh yeah, of course you wouldn’t. I replied, “I’m so sorry. I feel like I haven’t spent time with my friends for so long I keep reading between the lines and anxiously projecting.” She understood. We’re all worried we’ve forgotten how to be funny, how to deliver small talk and how to navigate group dynamics. As for dating post-pandemic, well I’m glad I don’t need to figure that rubik’s cube of fuckery out. 

Then there are people like my darling boyfriend. When I told him the topic of this piece he asked if it is something I can relate to, well, yes, hence I’m writing it. “Do you?” I returned the question. “No! I can’t wait! I think I will kiss the boys on the lips! I am so excited!” I’m glad for him, he’s found lockdown hard and hasn’t been able to go for walks with his friends like I have with mine purely down to geography. The truth is, we are all going to have a unique reaction to the ‘new normal’ because we are all unique ourselves. There is no right or wrong. I urge you to be both sensitive with yourself, honour your needs, but remember the joy you used to have outside of the house and try to revisit that place. Be considerate that others might be struggling more or differently than you. Check in with those you are wanting to see. Ask them what they’re comfortable with. Remind them that you want to be safe too and handle any spontaneous bursts of anxiety with care. Move gently. Most of all, I encourage you to seek the literal and metaphorical light. We sure as hell have earned it.