Just as the winter depression began lifting (with the help of pharmaceuticals), and anxiety seemed less (because of using fewer pharmaceuticals), covid-19 and quarantines kicked in. I’ve been limiting my excursions to grocery stores and mental health appointments for two weeks now. I am not ok. With each passing day I am more and more anxious about going out at all, even for a walk in my apartment complex. And depression is returning.
I realized I am feeling overly responsible NOT to spread the virus. With my lungs newly treated for pulmonary embolisms of unknown origins, plus asthma, being prone to bronchitis, and a few other conditions, I am at higher risk for complications when (not if) I get the virus. I figure it’s just a matter of time that I get it, but I’m Much More concerned about unknowingly spreading it before I know I have it. I have loved ones I don’t see in person anymore to prevent spreading it to them. And I am self-isolating as much as I can.
Yet the anxiety persists and grows. I know I’m not the only anxious person, though the solidarity isn’t helping my symptoms. I cry and cry. My stomach aches. My heart races. I have no reasons to give my loved ones or providers for why I feel this way. I’m crawling into myself to hibernate, depressed as I am, and in a desperate attempt to lessen the anxiety by lessening inputs. Hence, avoiding the outside world?