my mental health challenge under social isolation

When social isolation first started in mid-March, I thought it would be kind of like two weeks of snow days. I've almost always lived alone and thought I would be o.k. There are solitary things I like to do: read, practice music, write poetry. I figured school would reopen soon and I'd get back to subbing, and my music endeavors would pick up where we left off.

But by the fifth week, social isolation was starting to really get to me. School had closed for the year and I was essentially cut off from the place that has been the center of my life for 19 years. I reached out and offered support in different ways; most of those reach-outs went unacknowledged. My music groups had suspended operations. I went some whole days without hearing another person's voice. (I now believe that a lack of in-person contact is not healthy and not how we are meant to live.) And I'm lucky enough to be in a community where people like to hug. I was missing that. When I would see people at the local grocery or when out for a walk, we would joke about not hugging. But it was starting to become less and less funny. I wasn't sure whether it was better than not at all to see people and not be able to touch or hug them, or whether that just made it worse. I spent time on Facebook, Instagram, and e-mail until I was just sick of it. Zoom gatherings helped, but when the session was over, I felt bereft. Every night when it got dark and really quiet outside, I started feeling a little freaked out, like everything had taken on an eerie tone.

Then two things happened that knocked my foundation out from under me. First was a 48-hour period of really bad news about the devastating short and long-term effects of COVID-19 combined with the news that this isn't going to go away for a long time. That made virus avoidance a more pressing and scary prospect, and made the extended future of social isolation even more grim. It wasn't even about the loss of subbing income anymore. It was about the lack of human contact.

The final blow was the cancellation of my fourth annual summer program in Québec which had been one of the highlights of my life in recent years and a reunion with people who are really special to me. With some of them in Québec on the other side of a closed border and the others scattered all over the United States, there was no hope of any gathering time or place. That did it. Over about a two-day period, I slowly came to terms with the losses of Québec, my school community, my music community. I spent most of my time sobbing and my blood pressure skyrocketed. I got sufficiently scared by my blood pressure numbers that I called my doctor's office and asked whether there was any way I could talk to my doctor. I needed help. They made a phone appointment for me and explained how that would work. I assumed that I would be going on blood pressure medication.

Right at the appointed time, the doctor's nurse called and did the intake interview. I shared with her the results of the blood pressure readings I'd done. Then the conversation turned to lifestyle questions: was I eating and exercising and sleeping, what I was doing with my time. The sobbing started up again. I can't remember when I've cried so hard. I don't think I've cried that hard since my father died nine years ago. As that part of the intake ended, the nurse paused, then said, with the utmost of compassion, "You are not alone." It was very reassuring to hear her say that, to hear acknowledgement that other people were going through the same thing I was.

The nurse wrapped up the intake, told me she would end the call and share all this with the doctor, and that the doctor would call back. And the doctor did so right at the time I was told to expect her to.

One of the things I've always appreciated about my doctor is that she never seems to be in a hurry. She is compassionate, caring, and thorough. And even in the context of a phone visit, that didn't change. To summarize briefly what was actually a lengthy conversation, she thought it made sense first to treat the hypertension by treating me for anxiety. She prescribed me a tiny dose of an anti-anxiety drug and said we would check in after two weeks. And by the end of the day, her scheduler had called me to make the appointment. Of course I researched the drug online. It's prescribed to people who have panic attacks and post-traumatic stress disorder. Seems to fit.

Any med like this takes a couple of days to start doing its thing. I am writing this paragraph one week after my first dose. My blood pressure numbers still occasionally have a little room for improvement, but there have been no more super-high readings and many right in the normal range. And I haven't sobbed since my appointment. Hearing "you are not alone" was huge. Being heard compassionately was huge.

I have one more big take-away from all this. I didn't tell anyone how much I was struggling emotionally as the weeks progressed. I tried to put up a positive front. I good-naturedly complained with a smile on my face about social distancing. But I didn't let anyone know that I was really suffering. I'm not even sure that I was honest with myself about it. When one of my best friends who has known me since age 7 heard my story and implored me to call her if it happens again, I told her that I had been like the frog in the boiling water who doesn't know he's in boiling water until it's too late. -- except that for me it wasn't too late because I had a great doctor whom I trust 100%. She diagnosed anxiety instead of hypertension, and as always, her instincts were spot on.

So that's why I'm writing this. I want people to know that COVID-19 and social isolation take a toll on mental health. And I want people to hear that it happened to me, someone who is known around town as kind of a goofy easy-going free spirit who had a long career as a (can I say successful?) teacher and who even in retirement showed up loud and proud and having a blast at student games and performances. I want to say and have people hear me say that it REALLY pisses me off when people don't take COVID-19 seriously, from the local level all the way to Washington, DC. Every doofus who thinks this is a hoax, who refuses to wear a mask out of vanity, who goes to protests, who insists on having big gatherings, who thinks science is something you choose to believe in or not, is contributing to this lasting longer. Absolutely no one wants this to last longer!! This is unprecedented and this is serious business!! Although I continue to be grateful that none of my family members are ill from this (sadly, I can no longer state that none of my friends are ill from this), I have lost a lot because of this: time with family and friends, my connections to the school, my connections to Québec, my performing. And an unexpected $4000 car engine repair this week was the icing on the cake. That would have been recoverable when I was subbing but won't be so easily now. And a lot of people have lost much more. For myself and for others, we need EVERYONE to take it seriously.

And now I'm writing this paragraph 2.5 weeks after talking to my doctor. I'm doing much better now, 8 weeks into the pandemic. I've accepted that pretty much every endeavor that was important in my life is gone for the foreseeable future or forever, and am grateful that family members and friends are all healthy, even if time with them is limited to phone / text / e-mail / Facebook / Zoom. I've accepted that retirement is over and that I have to go back to work, hopefully teaching somewhere. And I've gotten used to being alone a lot and learned what I need to do to not be unhappy (healthy diet and exercise, more creativity, less Facebook, more activity even it's in within my four walls, less following the news which never changes nowadays anyway). That doesn't mean I'm happy about what has come to pass, it just means I've accepted it. I still have trouble, though, coming to terms with the fact that we're living in a dystopian novel with a raving lunatic for a leader. But I've learned that the most productive way to deal with that is to do what I can to see that he and his minions are voted out.

And the other reason I'm writing this: if you who are reading this are starting to struggle mentally or emotionally, please reach out to me. Don't follow my bad example and try to tough it out. I will listen and I will help you get help. We all need to be helping each other right now.

P.S. 24 hours later: Several people have tried to comment on here and not had their comments post. I don't know why that's happening but will try to find out! If you check back and your comment didn't appear, please know that I didn't delete it! I'll try to solve the mystery.