Welcome to Covid-19’s “junior year.” It’s not pretty.
The physical and psychic consequences of the pandemic with no end are shaping up to be devastating. What are Americans to do?
https://www.vox.com/22850742/omicron-covid-junior-year-resignation-fatigue-depression
After a brief reprieve from surging cases in the fall, omicron, the newest and
most transmissible Covid-19 variant yet, is tearing its way across the nation, causing a
nearly 30 percent spike nationally in cases in a matter of days. As communities roll out eerily familiar safety measures, for some, it’s feeling like 2020 again: In the past few weeks, California and New York
reinstated indoor mask mandates, restaurants from
Philadelphia to
Houston to
Los Angeles are temporarily closing amid outbreaks, at-home rapid tests are
sold out from coast to coast, and some universities are sending students
back online.
Welcome to the pandemic’s “junior year,” to adopt the darkly comic term that went viral on Twitter this fall. It looks like 2022 is destined to be the third year in a row that’s marked by fear and confusion, positive tests and near misses — and a resounding feeling of failure.
“There is a part of me that’s like, ‘I don’t care! I don’t care at all!’” says Theo McKenna, a 31-year-old bartender and actor in New York City. “But I’m like, I
do.” While McKenna is boosted, masking up, and still determined to protect themselves and others, omicron has left them wondering, “What did we do everything for, then?”
That feeling of ever-dwindling resolve and malaise has had many names over the last 21 months:
grief,
burnout, “
languishing,”
trauma. Perhaps the most popular is
“pandemic fatigue,” which describes the difficulty many well-intentioned individuals have had in keeping up safety precautions over long periods.
“People are especially exhausted because so much energy is spent on ‘what ifs’ and worrying,” says
David Sbarra, a psychology professor at the University of Arizona. “There’s enough to worry about about the known-knowns that worrying about all the unknowns just takes a big toll on us after a while.”
As we face the latest “wave,” many are considering what effect this cumulative sorrow has had on us.Two years of data suggest, in short,
bad things. The physical and psychic consequences of the Pandemic With No End are shaping up to be devastating, with few areas of our lives left untouched.
These days, it feels as though even the most determined Americans are scrounging around for a clean mask, wondering if it’s all still worth it.
“To be honest, if anything, I feel like I fall into the mindset of: I am vaccinated, so I’m just gonna, like, do me,” Jacob, a 23-year-old based in Baltimore, recently
told the Atlantic. While the vaccinated can still spread the virus and are at risk of long Covid symptoms themselves, President Biden announced they
don’t necessarily need to reconsider their holiday plans — much to the chagrin of many concerned scientists. Infection now, however, seems inevitable. Even public health experts are “mentally bracing to test positive after spending two years dodging the virus,” Dan Diamond
recently wrote in the Washington Post. People who never thought they’d get sick are now questioning whether their breakthrough cases should really require
10 days of isolation.
Perhaps a feeling of crushing defeat is to be expected, says health psychologist
Alison Holman, a professor in the University of California Irvine School of Nursing. Over two years of relentless chaos, the social, political, environmental, and pandemic pressures have built on each other, grinding aspirations and optimism to dust. “It’s totally unprecedented,” Holman says. “The pandemic is the first time in my life that I’ve experienced something like this: an ongoing collective trauma with many underlying chronic stressors with punctuated acute stressors.”
While we may be done with the pandemic, Covid-19 is clearly not done with us.
When the World Health Organization first declared a global public health emergency, many people were gripped by fear of the unknown.
In the first and, to date, best-studied stage of the pandemic — lockdown — essential workers continued to care for sick patients and run grocery store check-out lines. Within weeks, roughly
35 percent of people in the US were working from home and an additional
14.7 percent were unemployed. While US public health officials tried to do their best, messaging was often hopelessly confused, with endless reversals about hand-washing, mask-wearing, and more. Researchers, unsurprisingly, found a
three-fold increase in depression — from 8.5 percent before the pandemic to nearly 28 percent in late March and early April 2020 according to a survey of roughly 1,441 American adults published in the journal
JAMA Network Open. Anxiety similarly spiked, with about
30 percent of Americans experiencing clinically significant symptoms in the same period.
This initial nosedive in mental health was widely anticipated, in part because of the well-established
science of chronic stress. When the body is flooded with stress hormones such as cortisol, the heart beats faster and harder, muscles tense, inflammation increases. Over time, the immune system weakens and the central nervous system, which remains continually on high alert, wears down, and both physical and mental health can worsen. While there are ways to manage chronic stress, one of the most protective features is a strong social network — the very thing lockdown threatened. “We all know those people for whom it’s water off a duck’s back,” says
Andrew McLean, a psychiatrist based at the University of North Dakota. “But the majority of us, we need some support.”
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