Depression During A Pandemic
It’s one of those phases again. Once or twice in the year, I’ll get into a deep depression. Something small will usually trigger it — a comment made by one of my parents, something on the news, or even silence from a friend. All of a sudden, the spiraling thoughts circle its way into my head — I’ll start to think of my inadequacies, compare myself to my peers, and blame myself for not getting far enough.
Growing up in a very fortunate situation, I didn’t realize that I was lucky at a young age. I was probably spoiled and didn’t even know it. Having come from an educated family background — with aunts, uncles, cousins and my dad having gone to well-established universities and achieve traditional success — there was a lingering pressure to do the same thing and follow a particular path. There was a very unhealthy sense of always comparing myself to others, whether it was to my closest friends, cousins, or people my age that I’d notice from afar. There’s been less of that in the past few years, thanks in part to educating myself about mental health and improving myself. Still, there’ll be days or weeks like now where something will trigger the floodgates of self-doubt.
I know that comparing myself to other people is a waste of time and an unhealthy aspect of my personality, but on days when I get triggered, everything comes to a halt. I just finished university with a psychology degree and studied the hell out of mental health, but being conscious about these toxic attitudes doesn’t seem to be enough to tell myself that I’m my own person. I know now that this too shall pass and that my rock bottom has grown over the years, but man, this pandemic that’s plagued our world makes this particular depression hit different.
I’ve been reading a lot about the anti-Asian sentiment going on where I live here in Vancouver and the killing of Ahmaud Arbery in the United States. Not to mention the thousands upon thousands of people dying from COVID-19. It only seemed to dig a more massive hole that’s encased me from the moment this lapse of depression started. The past few days, I haven’t been able to get much good sleep, and all I can think of right now is my future and the future of the world that we live in.
On the other hand, there’s some good news to be had too. The situation in British Columbia is one of the best in the world where the curve has been flattening faster than most places. I’m finally graduating this June, got decent grades, and the stress that came with it should be off my back, but I don’t feel as excited as I should be. I’m also currently living with my parents and my sisters who keep me afloat, and shouldn’t have to worry about paying for rent or when I’ll be having my next meal. Shouldn’t I feel lucky?
Honestly, it’s hard to wrap myself around my good fortune, and with that comes a pang of creeping guilt for having to feel this way. There’s a chance I’m depressed because I don’t have anything to focus on anymore, now that school is finally done. I took leave off from work (where I’m unable to work from home) because I live with older and more vulnerable parents and need to be safe around. Now that I’m free of everything, I’m starting to realize I’m still far off where I want to be.
Reading Sylvia Plath’s novel The Bell Jar, I come to realize that I’m not alone in my thoughts. There’s this need to be everything I want to become — a brilliant writer, a touring musician, a world traveler — and yet, most of these seem to be out of grasp, especially during this crisis we live in. In The Bell Jar, the protagonist Esther Greenwood parallels my good fortune yet expresses the same feelings I’ve been going through the past few days. She describes her aspirations in vivid detail:
”From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet, and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
I’ve been on this personal development kick for the past year or two now, trying to better myself by reading more books and articles on self-improvement. There’s this idea instilled in many of us that succeeding in this world means having a good career, creating stability, having the right partner, etc.
Despite following all the advice about sticking to my habits and generating a system for myself, this feeling of sadness can still be overwhelming. Productivity or the lack thereof is just another idea in our minds that says you’re not doing good enough, you need to create more. The capitalist system wrought upon us has engendered feelings of inadequacy and self-hate, but I’m learning from others — whether it’s activists on Twitter, politicians that actually fight for the marginalized, or even writers on Medium wearing their hearts on their sleeve — that say it’s okay to slow down, you are not alone in this.
During this quarantine, I’ve come to learn that I don’t need to be as productive as I should be. My past bouts with depression have been way worse than what I’m experiencing now, and I’ve gotten better at managing my mental health thanks to my friends and family’s support. Consciously exercising more, eating healthier, meditating, listening to music, playing an instrument, walking outside, and reaching out to others have also been beneficial for my psyche.
I know that I will come out of this depression eventually. Nowadays, this state will come to pass gradually just after days of treating myself better. Having written this piece every other day, my mood has progressively elevated. Writing can be quite cathartic. Right now, it’s about staying present, and understanding that I’m not alone in this struggle. There are other people more and less fortunate than I am going through the same thing. In the ebbs and flows of life, I’ve come to realize that this feeling will come and go at another point in my life, and learning to support each other in this pandemic and in other future crises will always be crucial to getting better.
