I can’t pinpoint when my anxiety started, only that the first time I realized I needed help with it was about a year after graduating college. I was working in a job that wasn’t very fulfilling, and the lack of engagement and the stress (it was corporate PR and we were going through a media crisis) had me feeling so anxious that when I came home at night, all I could do was cry in frustration. As anyone with anxiety will tell you, it never really “goes away.” But when I started therapy, finally quit my job, went back to grad school, and moved to NYC to pursue a dream job (my first journalism gig out of school), things got so much better.
My struggle with anxiety is something I will always manage, but the waves of intensity ebb and flow, depending on what’s going on in my life—like, a pandemic. The coronavirus crisis hit a week after I found my dream apartment in NYC and was looking forward to moving back to the city to live with one of my best friends, after being back home in Mississippi for the past year and a half. Anxiety often stems from uncertainty. To cope, my mind tries to find things it can control: working 24/7, doing two intense workouts a day, drinking more to relax (things that aren’t, if I’m being totally honest with myself, always healthy). There’s a very fine line between committing to habits that help you feel good and overdoing it.
Living in the midst of a global crisis is enough to cause anyone to feel down. But for anxiety-prone people like me, it’s a relentless trigger. “If somebody is more susceptible to anxiety, nervousness, or overthinking, there is ample opportunity to have a million made up scenarios in the mind,” says Chelsea Connors, a licensed professional counselor and certified life coach. What if my sister, who is a nurse, gets sick? What if my parents, who are both over 60, get sick? What will happen now that I can’t go back to New York and can’t travel or see my friends IRL?
My history of anxiety, paired with the pandemic-induced overthinking and not-so-healthy coping tendencies, was the perfect storm. I wasn’t sleeping as much as I should. I wasn’t giving myself space to rest and process the wild mix of fear and grief and uncertainty. I was running my body—and ultimately my immune system—down. And then, to my own shock, I got sick and was diagnosed with COVID-19.
The Sum of All Anxieties
Everyone’s symptoms and experience with COVID-19 are a bit different—to me, it was not that obvious that I was getting sick.
I was so “healthy,” doing all the right things like exercising and eating well. So when the first symptoms crept in one Monday in late April (fatigue, slight headache), I was in denial. The first day I pushed my body to get through the fatigue by drinking more coffee so I could work. Then I started feeling hot—even though I was drinking cold brew. As I started to feel more feverish, I realized something was off and took my temperature—it was 99.5.
My anxiety went through the roof. Just the mere idea that I could have the virus that has caused so many heartbreaking headlines sent me into such a panic that I wasn’t sure if I was actually starting to feel sick or if my anxiety was triggering a wave of physical symptoms that made me think I was sick. I was so scared and confused, I didn’t know what to do. I kept taking my temperature (it went down) and told myself I was fine (I was not).
On Tuesday, day two of my symptoms, I tried to work, continuing to take my temperature (it stayed around 98), but I couldn’t help but feel like my body was fighting something. I went for a short walk around the block and then had to take a nap around noon because I was so tired from the exertion. When I woke up, I had a splitting headache—a common symptom of the virus. I knew I was not okay, so that’s when I scheduled an appointment to get the test.
I was so upset, defeated, and scared I might actually have this thing. I’ve been living with my parents ahead of my move back to NYC, and once I realized they could get sick from being exposed to me, my anxiety got so intense I almost couldn’t cope . My mind immediately started racing with thoughts about what could happen if they got sick and I started to jump to worst-case scenarios. All I could see were the headlines I’ve read about how people over 60 were most at risk for serious complications and even young people, like my sister and me, were being hospitalized. As a health writer, I knew the CDC and WHO guidelines about the safety protocol for COVID-19 like the back of my hand and was paralyzed by the fact that I could get sick even though I lived in a smaller town and had only gone out for essential errands armed with hand sanitizer, and I always wore a mask.
By Wednesday I felt so sick I could barely eat or function. I felt physically drained and exhausted, my head ached, and I was also emotionally drained from the anxiety of it all and so scared for what might happen if I tested positive, or gave it to my parents. I felt so guilty for not realizing sooner that I was sick, and for exposing my family.
I’m fortunate to be in an area where getting a test was easy, but I still frustrated that I’d have to wait days to get the results. Wednesday and Thursday were the hardest days physically and emotionally. I had to let myself come to terms with the fact that I likely had the virus, just so I wouldn’t lose it when I got the test results. And by the time I got the call on Friday telling me I had COVID-19, I felt strangely prepared.
After I got the positive test results, I let myself be upset and scared. I cried. I called my sister, talked to my therapist, and confided in my friends and told them how I knew that I had exposed my parents and my sister to the virus—the fear of them getting sick was overwhelming.
Emotions and Fears Are Contagious
COVID-19 hit me like a terrible flu, but thankfully I had no serious symptoms and I felt pretty certain I would be physically okay—it was my mental health that really scared me. “Part of what makes this so impactful for mental health is some of the powerlessness that can come from the uncertainty and the unknowns,” says Connors. “Then there’s the added pressure when someone is diagnosed to self-isolate and to be alone.”
I realized that I needed to release the grip I had on trying to control what would happen or I would not get better (or be able to help my parents stay healthy). I had to physically, emotionally, and mentally rest.
Googling things about the virus was going to be dangerous for me. I knew that looking into anything about it could send me into another anxiety spiral. So I never googled anything. I only asked the clinic doctor, nurses, and other trusted health professionals (like my own doctor) for advice. The same was true for social media. Seeing healthy people complain about social distancing made me angry and resentful. “How could they complain when they aren’t even sick?” I thought, even though I’d been in their frustrated shoes not long ago. I also deleted the news app on my phone after I saw a headline about young people with the virus having strokes. Seeing that sent me into a panic, and I’d had enough of letting outside things control my mental and emotional state.
This is all part of what Connors calls emotional contagion—the idea that emotions from others spread and can actually affect your mental health. “Because so many people are having varying degrees of experiences with this, we’re hearing a lot of mixed messages and it can get really confusing for the human brain,” she says. “So it allows anxiety to easily come in and say, ‘Oh, but what if this happens, what if that happens, or what if you have this experience like that random stranger on the news today?’ If we’re not careful, it’s really easy for that anxiety to run with all of the fears, and the uncertainty and unknowns of the virus.”
What’s Changed Now That I’m Recovering From the Virus
Things got better. Every day I was sick, I prioritized rest and doing what I could to feel good. I watched funny, uplifting movies on Netflix and started binge-watching one of my fave shows Suits (again). I stood by my window with my new puppy and we watched little kids dance and play in the neighbor’s yard outside. I developed a better sense of living in the present moment, being grateful for what I had that day or even that hour (the fact that I was okay, I had my puppy, my family’s health, support from so many friends) was enough to quiet the storm.
A scary experience like getting sick forced me to slow down and come to terms with what could really help me manage my anxiety. I’ve heard so many times that practicing breath work, gratitude, and mindfulness can be really helpful for managing anxiety, but in my mind I was doing what I could and didn’t have time to implement new practices. It took getting sick for me to finally realize what I need to do for the sake of my mental health.
Now that I’m recovering and on the other side of the virus, I’m seeing this entire experience as an opportunity to change my relationship with anxiety long-term. My lifestyle before I got sick was leading me to do unhealthy things to cope—in fact, my lifestyle was creating the perfect environment for my anxiety to thrive.
Now I’m prioritizing rest more. I’m not taking on more work than I can manage (which is tough as a freelancer), I’m setting better work hours, I’m going to take more days off and just give myself more space and grace to make sure I’m doing the things I know that I need to feel good. I’m leaning into more positive rituals that I enjoy and that give me a sense of peace like reading, journaling, and meditating. I’m also cutting way back on the coffee and making sure I’m eating enough since I notice my anxiety can creep up when my blood sugar is low.
COVID-19 taught me another important lesson: I’m still going to edit the people, media, and things around me that don’t make me feel good. I know the small changes I make to my lifestyle, like how much sleep I get, how I work out, how much I work, and what I eat, all add up to how I feel on a day-to-day basis. And finally, just as I did when I was really sick, I’m learning to live each day and take it for what it is, be more present, and lean into gratitude.
Mercey Livingston is a freelance writer who specializes in health, wellness, fitness, and nutrition and is host of the podcast Wellness Unedited. Read more of her work at www.merceylivingston.com.
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