COVID-19 and Mental Health 

By Ava Book

COVID-19 has wreaked havoc on all our minds, but what about those of us with pre-existing mental illnesses? 

As most of the human population is aware, COVID-19 has ruled us since the beginning of 2020. Due to the pandemic, most things shut down including people’s places of work, schools, and businesses. It was suggested and preferred that everyone stay in their homes and only leave when absolutely necessary and with a mask. Most chose to just stay home for fear of the ongoing pandemic, isolating themselves and decreasing their productivity.

 I know I slept almost all of the time. Self isolation is a choice, but government issued isolation is a beast not so easily slain. Before the pandemic’s famous lockdown, I considered myself an introvert, that mindset quickly shifted. I longed for interaction, some sort of stimulation for my then mushy brain. So, I read a mountain of books I’d promised myself I’d read. Once I’d burned through them, I felt better, but soon returned to square one. Loneliness returned. So, I asked my younger sister if she’d model for me for photo shoots. She quickly tired of the model life and turned me down every time thereafter. I’d become stuck in an endless cycle of boredom, depression and attempting to change the conditions. I even became nocturnal for a time, binge-watching Netflix shows until the break of dawn when I’d finally go to sleep. Sometimes, I wouldn’t even sleep. I’d go about my life until I nearly collapsed of exhaustion.

Though I felt lonely, I soon found I wasn’t alone. My few friends, I found out that a lot of other people were affected in nearly the same way that I had been. My friends weren’t sleeping either, weren’t leaving their bedrooms, weren’t glad to be awake, were desperately trying to grasp onto something to pull them from the tide of mental decay. Eventually, I stumbled upon a small solution of my own, an old coping mechanism I’d neglected for far too long. Escapism. I began writing stories, reading more books, dressing up to stay in, watching shows and mentally writing myself into the plot. Ignoring reality gave me a sense of safety and assurance that I hadn’t had for months. I started to feel good. When things finally started back up, I got a job, I got myself a cat, a companion for when I was lonely, I started an independent life for myself, outside of my house.

This was not to last. School started. I had less time to work at my job, and was let go as a result. It was almost like a pity firing, I didn’t have time for anything outside of school. School was and still is taking up all of my energy. Teachers seemed to sympathize with this a bit, saying that “things were difficult this year” countless times. This didn’t help. I hated myself, everything was too hard, I had no energy, no motivation, no desire to do anything my teachers assigned me. I failed nearly my entire first marking period as a result. I, of course, was grounded, which stole any freedom I had, making me lonely again. I began internalizing everything. 

All I did was think. You’re a failure, you’ll never go anywhere, no matter how hard you try, you’ll always disappoint. I was back in April all over again. I concluded I’d work myself dead if it meant I’d at least have all Cs for the second marking period. No avail. I still finished the semester with mostly Ds, one F, two Bs and a C. Luckily, I’m not alone. Almost all of the fellow students and friends of mine I’ve spoken to have been barely surviving school, including my sisters. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one struggling with the thoughts in my head and the work outside of it. 

Lately, instead of laying in my own filthy self-hate and negative self-thoughts, I’ve been reaching out to my closest friends. They’ve also been doing the same when they feel less than great, and we tell each other we’ll work through it together, we’ll finish this marking period with Cs and Bs, we will get better grades, we will get better. The other day, my chemistry teacher said to my class in the sweetest voice, “Things will get better, I promise.” I actually cried from his words, because it was something I’d told myself several times, but never had the sincerity that my chemistry teacher displayed. Now I mean it. Things will get better, I promise.