We’ve all come across the term “pandemic wall.” It’s become a cultural phenomenon — from memes to articles, and countless conversations with therapists and friends. The idea is straightforward: we reach a point where we can’t push forward anymore. Everything comes to a halt, and we crumble.
As Maura Judkis noted in the Washington Post, “The pandemic wall appears at different times for everyone, but many have felt its impact recently.” The year 2020 was undoubtedly challenging, and the beginning of 2021 brought little relief. It often felt like an extension of the previous year.
Personally, I’ve encountered this “pandemic wall” multiple times over the last year. Eventually, it transforms from a wall into something much more profound. For me, it has spiraled into a full-blown existential crisis.
As 2021 rolled in, the realization hit: “Oh no, we’re still in this,” shared Alex Johnson, a 27-year-old creative professional. “How much longer can I endure this? These feel like my lost years.”
Lost years indeed. This situation shifts from a mere struggle to a deep introspection about identity and purpose. Unlike the familiar fatigue of running a marathon or a long work project, we don’t know when this will end. We keep hearing about a “light at the end of the tunnel,” but it often feels like an illusion — one that’s almost impossible to grasp.
Most days, I feel… well, okay? I get through my work, tidy up after dinner (thanks to my partner for cooking), do some laundry, chat with a friend, and remind my kids to finish their homework. I generally have an upbeat outlook. Yet sometimes, the absurdity of this situation leaves me breathless. Suddenly, I find myself reorganizing the pantry at 10 PM on a Friday or contemplating a move to Portugal or sobbing in my car on a Tuesday afternoon (the car crying isn’t that unusual).
Judkis also wrote about how those nearing their pandemic wall might seek advice similar to what runners hear: “Distract yourself. Practice positive self-talk. Reach out for support. Indulge in comfort food. When all else fails, just keep moving forward.”
But that “just keep moving” advice only works if you’re still on your feet. At some point, the landscape has changed so dramatically that we’re not running anymore — we’re crawling or stuck at the edge of a cliff. Sometimes, the best choice isn’t to push ahead but to pause, reassess, and pivot.
That’s where I find myself. Should I continue down this path? Or take a completely different route?
Is this truly our new normal, indefinitely? Masks, Zoom meetings, and endless nights at home? What on Earth is happening? We’re living through a daily “everything’s fine” dumpster fire, convincing ourselves that we’re building resilience with the hope that things will eventually return to “normal.” But this isn’t sustainable.
Some days, I’m unsure of my identity, my location, or my desires. I don’t just feel like I’ve hit a wall; I feel like I’m caught in a tornado, while a giant whack-a-mole mallet intermittently strikes me. I’m lost on where to go or what to do, and I can’t catch my breath. There are moments when I yearn for the trivial small talk with strangers, and then there are days when I want to embrace silence and hibernate on my couch forever. Some days, I’m eager to dive into my career, while others make me want to pack my bags and explore the world as a nomad.
The current reality, a year into this pandemic, feels like a “Hunger Games” scenario for the limited vaccine supply, while many refuse to wear masks, and new variants threaten to undo any positive progress we’ve made.
This is undeniably a chaotic situation, yet we often pretend that everything is fine. Inside, we’re screaming, “THIS IS NOT FINE.”
So yes, I’m struggling. And if you’re honest with yourself, perhaps you are too. Acknowledging this struggle doesn’t negate the privilege I hold — the ability to voice these concerns while missing the joys of travel, dining out, or spending evenings with friends. I recognize my good fortune: a job, health, and a safe home.
Yet, I’m also bewildered, exhausted, and navigating a profound existential crisis. I don’t have answers, but I want to remind you that you’re not alone. There’s no right or wrong way to feel during these times. And if you hadn’t noticed, swearing can be a pretty effective coping strategy until we regain our footing.
For more insights on navigating this journey, check out this post and this resource for valuable information on pregnancy and home insemination. And for those exploring their fertility journey, Make a Mom offers great guidance.
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Summary:
The piece reflects on the profound emotional toll of the pandemic, framing the experience as an existential crisis rather than just reaching a “pandemic wall.” It emphasizes the uncertainty and confusion many feel, while acknowledging the privilege some hold. Ultimately, it encourages readers to recognize their struggles and seek support, reminding them they are not alone in their feelings of disorientation.
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