Coping With Coronavirus in the Age of Anxiety

This article is an online version of the print article for the S/S ‘20 Lexington Line edition. The print version can be viewed here!

After my masked Uber driver hoisted my 43.7-pound suitcase into his trunk, I slid into the backseat and closed my eyes. My heart was pounding. “Nope. Not going there,” I heard myself think as a wave of anxiety-provoked nausea crashed over me. “I’m getting out of this city.”

The day before, LIM College announced that the remainder of our spring semester would be conducted online. Later that afternoon, President Trump declared a state of emergency. Coronavirus was no longer a potential threat, but an imminent one.

What was making my stomach turn, and what continues to alarm me, wasn’t really the fear of contracting COVID-19. It was our country’s reaction, which has seemed all too similar to the dystopian novels we grew up reading: emptying shelves that stores are struggling to keep stocked, panic-stricken shoppers fighting over toilet paper, the plummeting stock market, countless people refusing to practice social distancing, grave warnings from countries who are in deeper waters, politicians bickering about something that should not be political, the cancellation of all events, a rising death toll, the uncertainty over how long this will last…

As I sat at my gate in LaGuardia, I thought about the sandals I had packed on a whim. Something felt strange about throwing them in my bag even though it had snowed in Minnesota earlier that morning, but it was possible I’d be there far beyond the spring break trip I had planned a month prior. Anything felt possible, really.

Shortly thereafter, I landed in the Midwest. I arrived at my boyfriend Reid’s apartment, greeting his best friend, Timo, and Timo’s girlfriend, Olivia. Olivia had been dealing with a minor case of the sniffles, so naturally, the jokes ensued. “What if we all get it?” Timo joked. “We’d need to start vlogging for sure.”

“Maybe then I could write an article about living together in quarantine,” I responded. “Four twenty-somethings suffer in solidarity? The Times would definitely take that. We’d all be influencers in no time.”

We laughed. Once again, we found ourselves using humor to cope with a surreal situation that was out of our control.

Twitter is packed with reminders that the novel coronavirus is not a joke, but most of us are well aware. When our generation is not constructing outlandish conspiracy theories, we’re laughing things off. Because what else can we do? Accept that we are facing fatal threats? Admit that holding onto any sense of stability is starting to feel impossible?

Our generation was born into a world accustomed to crisis. We were toddlers during 9/11 and young children during Hurricane Katrina and the Great Recession. As high school students, we became familiar with mass shootings and fearful of violent terrorist organizations. The past year has only continued to bombard us with tragedy. COVID-19 is just one of the disasters we have faced in the last 12 months.

Climate change is an ever-present force in our lives. Apart from the startling side effects of the rising global temperature, several climate-related disasters have demolished land, wildlife and homes. Many are still reeling from the California Wildfires in 2018, the Amazon Rainforest Wildfires in 2019, and most recently, the Australian Wildfires of 2020.

Source: The New York Times — Source: *The New York Times*

The political divide in the United States has never been so vicious—people on the left feel disheartened and angered by the current administration. People on the right feel disheartened and angered by the media. People left, right and center feel disheartened and angered that both parties appear unable to find any sense of harmony and refuse to treat one another with respect.

Adolescent suicide is on the rise. According to the Center for Disease Control, it was the second leading cause of death in 2017 for those aged 15 to 24. The suicide rate increased by 56% between 2007 and 2017 for those aged 10 to 24. Last year, a 13-year-old boy jumped off of a 350-foot dam in Wyoming while visiting the site with his parents. The story did not even make national news. It was just another heart-shattering tragedy that people tuned out for the sake of their own mental health. But having visited that same dam on several occasions myself, I found the weight of the loss unshakable.

World War III was trending on Twitter after the U.S. military killed Iranian General Soleimani. Saudi Arabia, Russia, Iran and Venezuela are struggling through a dip in demand for oil. Basketball legend Kobe Bryant and his daughter died in a helicopter crash earlier this year.

Our memes and conspiracies make it seem as though we’re coping with the barrage of terror, but we're internalizing these things, and our social media-dominated society certainly isn't helping. It’s no wonder that, according to the National Institute of Mental Health, adults aged 18 to 25 are far more likely to suffer from mental, behavioral, or emotional disorders compared to older generations.

Where does all of this leave us?

Frankly, the full spectrum of reality has always been terrifying. Are we worse off now than we were 50 years ago? Who’s to say? Other generations have faced extreme trauma as well. Our parents and grandparents confronted World War II, Vietnam, women’s suffrage, Jim Crow and other forms of bigotry, the AIDS crisis, the Cold War and so much more.

We are now facing generational tests of our own, and just like those who came before us, we will grow stronger because of them.

What matters is not if we are under greater pressure now. Besides, the difficulty of living is largely dependent on the struggles we are born into or grow out of or stay confined by. What does matter is how we react to the adversity we are up against. We must, to the best of our ability, have empathy and practice kindness.

Some people have the tendency to deal with our collective misfortune by taking their aggression out on others. One scroll through Twitter will make that clear. But in a time like this, we need each other.

Remember to check up on one another. Remember that the little things matter. Remember that the Golden Rule is golden for a reason.

I have no idea if we will continue to face threats of this magnitude this frequently. Hell, I don’t even know when I’ll be leaving Minnesota. What I do know is that after this virus subsides, I am going to be far more grateful for everything I once took for granted.

Thumbnail image source: Unique Mindcare