As Pandemic Winds Down, Who Are We Now?

The COVID-19 pandemic has changed us all. As we begin to emerge from this nightmare, many of us are out of touch with members of our families and old friends. Most of us have spent more time in our homes this past year, searching for something to watch on television, looking out the window to see if the sky has changed, or reading a book or an article only to find out that our attention span isn’t as reliable as it used to be. Spending so much time at home often feels like solitary confinement. In a cruel twist of fate, the opposite is equally challenging: Being crammed into a finite space with too many family members can try the patience of all parties concerned. Conflict is inevitable in such situations, and physical and emotional altercations can erupt.

Waistlines may be bulging because of the frequency with which the refrigerator and the liquor cabinet are opened. A growth of beard may be present because there is not much need to shave. We are also aware of anxiety and depression creeping into our consciousness. Indeed, from August to February, these two conditions ballooned up to a sobering level: 2 in 5 adults met criteria for depression or anxiety.

The notion that time is our master has a long history in our discourse. But during the pandemic the phrase has taken on new meaning. Those in the mental health field, of course, have always placed an emphasis on time. Indeed, our days have traditionally been structured by the ticks on the clock. But now time seems to have taken a holiday. When we glance at the grandfather clock, it seems to have paused. Father Time himself seems to have become capricious in some way. In fact, it is hard for us to tell the difference between Tuesday and Saturday. Reality and truth seemed to have changed.

Alas, all of us have not become demented. Neuroscience teaches us that there are executive functions like focusing, planning, and abstract thinking that are impaired under the influence of stress. The prefrontal cortex is more or less out of commission, so both patients and clinicians may feel sluggish and doubt their reasoning in the midst of a clinical session.

Perhaps it is time to reconsider who we are now. The task is a formidable one because we aren’t the best judges of ourselves. Moreover, we aren’t all the same. The impact of the pandemic varies from person to person. Some like the peace and quiet of reading a book or watching segments of a Netflix series into the fifth season as the hours drag on. Others loathe the prospect of being stuck at home. Some love the freedom of having no social obligations and no fancy dinners to fuss over. Many yearn for some time with the grandchildren, while others are grateful for peace and quiet.

One thing is for sure: We won’t be going “back to normal.” As the title of this piece implies, we aren’t sure who we are at this point. “Normal” must be re-defined. None of us knows how all this will settle out. I think it’s fair to say, however, that we can assume that it will never be quite the same. The shift to virtual meetings has been a necessity. They are less expensive, more convenient, and safer, and you can turn off your video if you don’t like what you are seeing. However, we may be losing the old familiar chats in the hallways or dinners with our friends that made a sometimes exhausting and overwhelming professional meeting a rewarding experience. Seeing our colleagues on a Zoom screen is just not the same as chatting with them over a good meal.

In any case, whatever it is we are going through won’t ever be truly “over.” There will be some form of transition that each of us will experience differently. It won’t be easy to generalize what exactly is happening, but common sense suggests that things rarely go backward in time. Maybe the best answer to the question “Who are we now?” is a straightforward one: “We’re not sure yet.” ■