Coping with COVID: Donna’s Story
About a month ago, the hashtag #BeatCOVID-19athome began trending.
My first response? I had found my people.
So that day, as I retweeted a #BEATCOVID-19athome thread that mirrored my own experience, I gazed at the cocktail of over the counter medications aiding me in my recovery. I wondered how many of us were told to stay at home and self treat, due to the highly contagious nature of the virus. Unless things got worse.
Over the course of this ordeal, things never worsened to the point, where my fiancé or I required hospitalization. For that, I am grateful. I’m also grateful that I didn’t have to beat it alone or deal with the loss of my job, as a result of my illness. Still there are indelible marks, beyond the antibodies, that will serve as a reminder of my experience. Post COVID-19, I see myself, my thoughts, and my relationships so differently.
As my body fought one battle against the virus, my mind was fighting another. Once it became clear that I had contracted COVID, the crippling fear of death and loss were an unexpected foe. Ambulance sounds made my heart beat ten times faster, as I wondered if they would one day carry me or my fiancé to the hospital. The constant chest tightness and “running-while-standing-in place” feeling made it difficult to trust any signs that I was truly getting better. The circulation of misinformation in the media and my obsession with knowing all that I could, made me read more than I should have. Based on my research, one moment I would be ‘ok’ and in the next, I would soon be meeting my maker. Finally, after weeks of unrelenting fear and sleeplessness, I gave in and took an anxiety pill. I slept for almost 13 hours, and awakened to a body that reminded me of how different peace felt from the earthly hell I had been experiencing, some of which was my own making.
I told very few friends about my emotional struggles; since stories of those who had contracted COVID and were in dire straits, left me in despair. Although I spoke to my mom daily, I didn’t tell her that I had the virus. My mother is a worrier and I knew I could not battle her thoughts and anxieties when I was struggling with my own. So, I deliberately omitted key details in our conversations about students and faculty members I had been in close contact with, who had contracted the virus.
However, the few I entrusted with the details showed up for me in the best and most unexpected ways. One friend did our grocery shopping; while other friends and family members sent meds, masks, and supplies that we could not easily access. Folks that I didn’t expect checked in. Only God knows how many prayers were sent up on our behalf. These actions were small reminders, that in the midst of it all, hope, faith, and love would guide us to the other side of recovery.
This virus is a silent killer and so are the mental health issues that it leaves in its wake. Although most of our lives have been disrupted in some way or another, the collective path forward should reject the idea that healing is a one-size-fits-all experience. Since recovering from COVID-19, I’ve become more proactive regarding self-care. I’ve begun to see a therapist again and to make lifestyle changes, that I had put off for too long. I plan my days and weeks with the awareness that joy and peace are my earthly inheritance; and living in the present gives me unfiltered access to these states of being. I’ve taken control of my healing. I’m trusting that faith, hope, and love will guide the healing of our nation as well.
