Monument Valley – Photo by Scott Ingram at https://www.flickr.com/photos/scingram/503034864
Dear Readers, I strongly suspect that one of the side effects of living through the pandemic has been a rise in agoraphobia (literally ‘fear of the market’, and usually expressed in terms of being afraid of crowds, wide-open spaces or even just leaving the house). In the past few days I have talked with several people whose loved ones are now terrified of going outside the front door. These were people who were previously adventurous and confident, but now experience panic attacks, dizziness, a feeling of being out of control, breathlessness, sweating and disorientation, even for a brief trip to the shops.
I’m no psychologist, but observing my poor Mum in her last years brought out a few common factors for me. Being housebound, or at least spending a long period of time indoors seems to shrink not only our physical but our mental worlds, to the point where we only truly feel safe inside four walls. Couple this with social isolation and you have a recipe for anxiety. Then, there are the added problems of hearing and sight deterioration which happens as we get older – if we are going out regularly we may adapt to these changes, but if we are confined and then suddenly broach the outside world, it can all feel too much. Next, there is a genuine fear of falling, made worse by feeling giddy and by having lost fitness over months of walking no further than the fridge or the end of the garden. And finally, there’s the fear of infection and of the possibility of getting sick, especially as so much of the world has gone back to ‘business as usual’.
Personally, I have long had a fear of being in situations that I couldn’t escape from, and that has definitely gotten worse. Just before Christmas, we went to see a play in the West End, and passed through Leicester Square tube station. It was absolutely rammed, to the point that I was afraid that there would be an uncontrollable crush as there wasn’t room for people to get off the escalators. I could feel myself beginning to panic in a way that I probably wouldn’t have done pre-pandemic -after all, I’ve lived in London all my life and being surrounded by people is nothing new. Fortunately nothing happened, but it’s a long time since I’ve been so afraid.
It feels to me as if there has been a great mental forgetting of the cost of Covid in human terms, but for many people, their bodies haven’t forgotten, and are bearing the fear and anxiety that it’s no longer acceptable to express openly. Personally, I hate that we have had no real, official reckoning with what happened, no acknowledgement of the history that we lived through, and of the price of it for so many of us. There can be no true moving into the future without weighing up and acknowledging what’s happened, the mistakes that were made, the things we learned, and what needs to be put in place for the future. For those still mourning a loved one, or suffering from Long Covid, or still sheltering, the pandemic has ongoing consequences. And for those who still don’t feel ‘normal’, who sometimes panic in open spaces, who hyperventilate in crowds, who still automatically do ‘the dance of social distancing’, I know how you feel. I would be intrigued to know how you’re doing, lovelies. Do you know people who are struggling? Are there things that you notice about yourself that have changed? Or is it just me?
I think that all of the conditions that you mention are very real. Both of my parents were fearless global travellers who often worried me with their reckless exploits. From wandering around downtown San Francisco without a guide to hiring a motorbike and touring Corfu in their 70s sans crash helmets or protective clothing. My Dad developed dementia as well as a very slow growing form of blood cancer and Mum became fearful of everything after a massive stroke during the pandemic lockdown left her paralysed. Both of my parents have passed now but it wasn’t a happy time to see them become shadows of their former selves.
In my work, I’m always out and about and in busy schools. The pandemic was the only time I stopped. We instigated our permitted daily walk and I began examining the local flora and fauna. I found it inctedibly therapeutic. Even when Mum was out of hospital, I knew the exact time it took to complete a circuit before returning home to her. I perfected the art of looking closely again, something I had learned as a biologist.
I do think the pandemic left long-lasting effects on many. Personally, I was grateful to have the time with Mum after my Dad had passed and the chance it gave me to stop and look closely at the beauty of nature right under our feet.
I agree about the daily walks, Christine – we did them during lockdown, and it was a way of getting back in touch with the changing seasons and really paying attention to what was going on in the natural world. My dad also had dementia, and died on 31st March 2020, just as the pandemic lockdown was getting underway here. Condolences on the loss of your parents. It’s so hard and though time may make things easier, it doesn’t take away the loss.
I agree that the ‘powers that be’ – under whichever umbrella they may be resting – appear to have ignored the many effects you mention (perhaps a global report might yet emerge!), leaving individuals to cope on their own. A family member who was a long distance runner can no longer even make a half marathon; other people are still afraid of becoming infected … here the local clubs and societies have not yet ‘got off the ground’ because of this. Certainly my own interest in the smallest things of interest in my garden and surroundings took off during those years of ‘house arrest’ – and now I inflict this interest on my readers 🙂
I am so happy that you ‘inflict’ your garden on your readers, Anne, it brightens up my day (and lots of other people’s days too, I’m sure).
We have certainly done less travelling abroad since we came back to the UK, but I think that’s more to do with the ‘faff’ you have to go through at the airports. We did it when we had to (to see our families) but now we don’t… It’s also not so easy for us to get to the airport. My wife has also become a bit of a recluse, but I think that’s more to do with living way out in the country and not having the car sometimes to get out.
The Covid effect has certainly played a part in my social life. I have always avoided larger social events, but find that now I rarely make the effort to reach out to friends even for one-on-one meets. I’ve gotten used to being at home, going on walks, and even eating out (in outdoor seating mostly still) alone. It doesn’t help that many of my friends are doing the same thing. And because almost all of my friends dislike talking on the phone, I don’t even have that social contact.
I have attended the theater, masked, and I do constantly have low level anxiety about it because almost everyone there is maskless. I have all the jabs available, and neither I nor anyone in my household has had Covid, but the worry is still there.
I experienced similar positive effects as others; walked more, looked more closely at nature, spent more time doing handcrafts and gifting the results, and generally slowed down. But definitely, the social and mental effects linger.
Yep, so many of my friends are also still worried, either because they are caring for people with health problems, or have them themselves. And none of them like talking on the phone much either. Clearly you and I were separated at birth :-). And I have done prodigious amounts of knitting, and given all of it away too.
It is extraordinary that after all the loss and trauma of the pandemic, we are almost being encouraged to take part in a process of national (or even international) forgetfulness. I believe something similar happened after the so-called Spanish flu
of 1918-1920, which, until comparatively recently, featured in our collective memory merely as a postscript to the First World War.
When I was in London in October, I too felt slightly disconcerted about being in a crowded West End theatre and an overcrowded underground station – which I wouldn’t have done before the pandemic – and I feel for people who I see nervously scurrying in and out of shops wearing masks, and for those who don’t feel able to leave their homes at all. In contrast, my mum couldn’t wait for lockdown to be lifted so she could go shopping again. Sadly, she didn’t live to see that day,
You’re right about the ‘Spanish flu’ pandemic, that was ‘forgotten’ about too. So sorry about your Mum. Mine was desperate to get to the shops as well. It’s funny how it’s those little things that we take for granted that we miss the most…I remember really wanting to visit a ‘real’ bookshop. I missed the smell of the books!
I sympathize with a lot of the views expressed as I am living with a chronic, progressive lung disease which does impact where I go, when I go out etc. Life is undoubtedly different post pandemic but I am trying to my live my life as fully as possible and looking forward as life is short, and a very precious gift. Lessons do undoubtedly need to be learnt from the pandemic, but no one could have foreseen the catastrophic outcome of a virus that does not appear to be particularly seasonal. I am just truely grateful to live in a prosperous, peaceful country with access to free health care at point of delivery. My thoughts currently are with those in Ukraine or displaced from there facing the prospect of a second year of a war designed to obliterate their country and those in Turkey/Syria whose lives have been changed in a matter of minutes and will take decades to over come the effects of the earthquake.
I’m sorry to hear about your illness, Valerie, and you are absolutely right about how precious life is, and how short. There is so much suffering, and we have much to be grateful for, for sure. Thank you for taking the time to comment.
Collective forgetfulness maybe, but how many services lost during the pandemic have failed to be restored. Here in Edinburgh there are a whole swathe of road closures awaiting reinstatement. Medical services operate in a new way – at a distance. The new normal has arrived. “Post Pandemic” has become the new catch all description of new impositions or discontinued services we once took for granted.