In March of 2020, I was 17, shopping for prom dresses, and ordering my cap and gown for high school graduation when the world abruptly shut down. The celebrations were stunted.Excitement was replaced with intense fear about our lives, our health and our futures.
Gen Z suffered.I suffered.
And I didn’t know how to pull myself out. It’s been five years since the pandemic started, and the anxiety that plagued me during that first year has calloused me for life. It was easy to fake being OK at first — but when reality hit me, it felt like my entire vision board of senior year activities was shattered. I stuffed the prom dress I spent months scouring the internet for in the back of my closet.I thought prom would be my chance to stand out and to have one last hurrah before going off to college.
Now, I would never have that opportunity.I felt so isolated.My school friends weren’t allowed to see me.
There was a curfew in New York City, where I live, and no cafés or restaurants to meet at.My parents wouldn’t let me go outside other than the grocery store.
We retreated to our house on Long Island to further separate ourselves. About six months into the pandemic, I suffered my first panic attack. I was sitting on the couch with my mom watching a movie when I suddenly couldn’t catch my breath.I asked for an inhaler and even went for a COVID test the following day, but nothing was physically wrong.My anxiety showed up as other physical symptoms too: short breaths, sweaty palms and insomnia. But I still didn’t make the connection that it was anxiety until a friend told me she self-harmed.
From that day forward, I couldn’t shake the thought that I, too, would reach a point where I might hurt myself just like her.I managed to convince myself that everyone who suffers from anxiety is doomed, and that their life is over.I would stare at the ceiling all day wondering why I was thinking so much about suicide when I so desperately wanted to live.I spent mo...