Covid Aftermath: Welcome to the Zombie Zoo
Painting by Marc Simonette and Alexander Jansson
I roam around my house a lot lately. I’m not going anywhere and I don’t have anything to do, yet I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything. I mean, I have a ton of things I could do and even more things I should do, but I feel unmotivated to consider any of them. Frankly, my spirits are low.
My instincts tell me I'm not trapped in what feels like a never-ending existence of numbness, yet it’s as if there is an invisible barrier preventing me from engaging in what I used to know as life. It’s like I’m in one of those habitats that zoos create to trick their furry prisoners into believing they’re free. It looks like freedom. It smells like freedom. But the animals know they’re being held hostage, just like we do in some weird way.
When I took a minute to consider when this all started, I landed in 2020.
With the onset of COVID-19, the world witnessed shutdowns, deaths, resets, and a whole bunch of unexpected endings and beginnings, both globally and individually. The proverbial rug had been ripped out from underneath the entire earth and no one knew what to expect next. There were so many unforeseen shifts and changes that I still feel the whiplash.
Since 2020, my life has been nothing short of a speeding roller coaster of unwanted transformations that have catapulted me into a future of dizzy confusion. I divorced, shut down a successful business, started a new business that still doesn’t have a pulse, walked away from lifelong friendships, and undergone more inner deaths and rebirths than I can count or care to remember. The worst part is that I have no idea when this phase will end.
I’m bored, restless, unfulfilled, and discontented. I’m not hopeless so much as I am simply not filled with hope. Does that make sense? As I’ve worked with my coaching clients, shared in several mutual conversations with friends regarding this subject, and opened a discussion publicly on social media that garnered a lot of kindred comments, I’m beginning to realize it makes sense to people right now more than ever.
There’s a layer of ick over life. There is a general malaise that seems to blanket almost everyone, and we feel it, but we can’t seem to put our finger on it. It’s not conscious, yet it’s also not subconscious; it’s right below the surface of everything we do.
It’s also really (really) getting old.
When I posted this topic on social media, a commenter linked to this New York Times article, and it hit the nail on the head. In it, the author, Adam Grant, named this state of being as languishing.
Languishing: to be or live in a state of depression or decreasing vitality.
Yes. That's it! That's the feeling. It felt so good to know that I wasn't alone in my discontent and that this feeling was so widespread that a NY Times article was written about it. Then I realized the article was written three years ago, as of last month. My next thought was that one must assume this phenomenon had to have been around for at least six months to a year for him to have a subject to write about.
Then this little nugget settled in: Nothing has changed.
Nothing has changed in almost four years. In fact, it seems to be lingering on and on. None of us has ever experienced a global pandemic that shut down the whole world. We not only experienced it personally but also witnessed it in real-time. None of us has ever had to recoup our lives individually and within the global collective at the same time. The aftermath of the bomb that is named COVID-19 has left us in a continued state of bewilderment and perplexity.
In the NY Times article, Mr. Grant offered a perfectly plausible and even wise antidote: the concept of “flow”, which is, as he put it, “that elusive state of absorption in a meaningful challenge or a momentary bond, where your sense of time, place, and self melts away.” He included such examples as giving yourself uninterrupted time and focusing on small goals.
Both are worthy efforts, and I’ve engaged in each quite a lot. Unfortunately, after almost four years, the effect is wearing off. To be honest, I’m at my wit’s end. I have pivoted (yes, I said it) more than a grocery shopping cart wheel, and I’ve simply run out of directions to turn.
I’m so tired, friends.
I miss joy. I miss laughter. I miss being amused. I miss amusing people. I miss something—anything about my life—waking me up in the morning and getting me out of bed with a hop in my step. I miss motivation, purpose, passion, direction, clarity, looking forward to something, stability, and feeling like I have a soft place to fall. I miss living.
As I mentioned above, I’m not the only one experiencing this. In addition to a few health anxieties causing him stress, my friend Dave notes that he’s still “much less inclined to attend social gatherings”, and that, given the choice, he chooses to be home.
He also states that it’s the lack of joy he notices the most:
“But overall the big thing I noticed is the "languishing" that we discussed earlier. The life has kind of drained out of things for me, and when I'm asked, “What brings you joy?" I'm not sure that I have an answer. There's a feeling of simply going through the motions because of obligations and expectations, but there's little emotional incentive to experiment or to try new things. I know some people locally who seem to share this feeling, and I have a dear friend in California who's struggled with it since the early days of the pandemic. I don't know what the solution might be, and, honestly, I can't even imagine what a solution might feel like.”
Revisiting some of the comments from my original social media post, it appears there is a collective agreement on the murkiness of how to move forward:
“YES! And the expectation to "just go back to normal" is impossible when I am a completely new person.”
___________
“I feel this and see this all around.”
__________
“You just described me!”
__________
“A friend of mine said to me recently that if say 30 years ago our then selves were transported to today…we would feel we had landed in hell…as much as I try to navigate our current reality as best I can…I can see some truth to that…not giving up hope but trying to navigate a very different reality while keeping my spiritual beliefs of love being the greatest conqueror…I do find today’s conditions trying.”
When asked if she feels a difference in the present collective attitude compared to pre-Covid, my friend, Raemie, said this:
“It’s like we are all glazed over. Half drunk, half stoned, half broke, half broken, half listening…but nothing is half the price…not sustenance, not peace, not knowledge…not anything I can readily think of. We’ve become myopic, and we’re marooned. Marooned in our she sheds, in our newly coiffed backyards, in our converted-to-home office spaces, and in our multitude of new shopping apps.
We are lonely and disconnected. Probably because we’re “back to normal” and supposed to “be better than ever” but we feel like we’ve lost everything we knew, but haven’t gained anything new.”
The question everyone seems to be asking is, "When will this be over?” But we don’t understand exactly what “this” is yet. Without being able to put our finger on the pulse of what the current state of existence embodies, creating a new reality seems distant, unclear, and even unachievable just yet.
I can tell you that I sure don’t know what’s next, so maybe the question is, “What now?” Based on the conversations I'm having, there are a few bits of wisdom that stand out and may offer a bit of insight and reassurance.
This is a collective experience. If my recent conversations are any proof, we’re in this together, folks, and there’s solidarity in our restlessness. Though I know our tolerance for this experience is fading fast, unfortunately, the only counterbalance we have for this impatience is more patience. Re-engaging with local communities, schools, social spaces, and the general public is one way I see folks offsetting the solitude we all got a little too used to when the world shut down. We’re not alone in this, and we can feel some comfort that this will end at some point. Think of it this way: We’re closer to the end now than we were in 2021!
Those who loosen their grip on the past are finding it easier to move into the future. I think we can all agree that our pre-pandemic selves no longer exist. Thoughts, behaviors, habits, and routines that used to work no longer do, and this goes for some of the people we have, or had, in our lives. I don’t think I’m alone in realizing that, as the pandemic began its demise, so did some significant relationships. From what I'm witnessing and have experienced firsthand, letting go of and releasing what no longer serves us as individuals has been a huge part of the healing and recovery process. We are all new versions of who we used to be. We like new things, we’re curious about new stuff, and our interests have changed, as has our meter for joy and contentment. Accepting this shift while actively figuring out who we are now is the new journey. It’s an adventure in self-exploration and discovery.
We have to be conscious of the new reality we're creating in our lives. Our troubles have an uncanny ability to reset our current state of living. I saw a meme recently where the character said, “You sit in shit too long, it stops smelling.” I think that kinda of sums it up. Do yourself a favor: don’t create a new, daily existence or reality when your life is in a flow of dissatisfaction. No matter how frustrated you might feel right now, the truth is that we’re being called to transform into a better version of who we used to be. Answer the call, friend. Don’t get stuck.
Don’t get caught up in what the future looks like. Everyone wants certainty, and so do I, but when it comes to the future, and with most things in life, for that matter, there is no such thing. So, rather than getting stuck in what you don’t know and can’t control, focus on how you want your future life to feel. Not only will this alleviate the stress of the unknown, but it will also call in exactly what you desire. Yep—I’m talking about manifesting. I think Paul Coelho said it best in his book, The Alchemist, "When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it”.
Seek kindred spirits. As I mentioned above, it’s all too easy to give into the (false) comfort of solitude and the misnomer that we can go it alone. I also mentioned that the aftermath of COVID-19 is the first of its kind at this time, so there is no roadmap or guidebook. Finding like-minded people with which to converse, commiserate, and commune is one way to help you get through this massive change cycle. Find folks that resonate in a new way with you because, no matter how close you are to your bestie, you very well may find that you need to engage in camaraderie in a way that helps to change your perspective and reframe your thoughts.
The final question I think we all need to ask is, “How are we going to choose to show up for the remainder of the time we’re in this space?” Because here’s the thing: we’re in it, and it's not going away until it goes away.
We’re still in the middle of some big changes, but perhaps the answer is to take small steps. Why are we always waiting for the grandest of events to happen to us to prove to ourselves that we’re alive? If you don’t know this yet, let me tell you a secret: It’s the succession of itty-bitty and serendipitous moments that create a rich and satisfying life. So, perhaps the answer is redefining, recalibrating, and reimagining what brings us joy in little ways that keep us present and engaged. Rather than sending our precious energy into an unknown future, maybe it’s better spent in fleeting moments of connection, delight, and curiosity. It could be possible that it's really about noticing all of the beauty, people, and life that’s in front of us right now and always has been, even before COVID.
Maybe—just maybe—that's been the lesson all along.
……….
“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. People think pleasing God is all God cares about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back.”
—Alice Walker, The Color Purple
