April 15, 2021
What a year it’s been, right? I’m utterly worn out, emotionally drained, and just plain spent. Most days feel like a game of roulette: Is it that time of the month, fatigue, the fact that I haven’t had real human interaction besides my immediate family for 382 days (but who’s counting?), my all-carb diet, or just a bad mood? Who knows.
To be clear, I typically find people quite remarkable. Sure, there are a few outliers, but I’ve always thought that most individuals are fundamentally good most of the time. I still hold that belief.
But wow, this past year has really challenged that perspective.
In fact, there have been days when I’ve felt like I actually disliked everyone. A quick scroll through social media, reading news headlines, or even chatting with a good friend can trigger a wave of frustration. I’ve found myself feeling angry at everyone—even at folks I respect and genuinely enjoy. The reasons seem random; seeing photos of people joyfully gathering without masks can send me into a rage, while discussions about the risks of returning to in-person school can bring me to tears (my kids have been back since January).
What was happening? When did I become so cynical? I don’t want to be that way. I truly appreciate people, for crying out loud.
Here’s the reality: people can be awe-inspiring and wonderful, but they can also be selfish and ignorant. This last year has revealed some unsettling truths about humanity. People I thought were kind have shown surprising prejudices, and friends I believed were smart and open-minded have turned out to be conspiracy theorists who disregard the advice of highly trained doctors and scientists simply because they don’t want to wear a mask.
In times of crisis, people’s true selves often emerge. And it hasn’t been pretty. Friendships have shifted, and I’ve lost respect for many. My faith in humanity has taken a hit.
Remember the camaraderie we felt during the early days of the pandemic? That sense of unity faded quickly. For the last year, it’s felt like every person is out for themselves. It’s been a tumultuous time filled with blame, confusion, and an endless cycle of second-guessing. Simple decisions, like whether to go grocery shopping or send kids to school, have become fraught with moral dilemmas. For some, it’s “wrong” to go to the grocery store; for others, being overly cautious harms their family’s emotional health. If I allow my kids to play outside with friends but won’t let them enter someone’s home—even with a mask—am I too paranoid or too reckless? If I get vaccinated when I qualify, does that make me responsible or selfish for not waiting?
The constant questioning and judgment have been relentless, including from myself. And that kind of emotional whiplash is exhausting. It can really mess with your head.
Honestly, I have never felt more isolated than I did this past year. It wasn’t just the physical distance from others outside my family; I felt like there was no one—except for my partner, thankfully—who truly understood my feelings. Many of us share this sense of isolation.
Regardless of how you’ve managed life during the pandemic, finding someone who aligns with your views has felt nearly impossible. (And no, I’m not referring to anti-maskers; that’s an entirely different discussion.) Even among those of us who have taken the virus seriously, our comfort levels have varied widely. Some people were okay with in-person school but wore masks at all times, even outdoors, while others had family gatherings but avoided grocery stores. Some strictly isolated, while others traveled cross-country.
Navigating all these varying perspectives has been emotionally taxing. Honestly, there were times I considered packing up and living off the grid with a pack of dogs. Yeah. It’s been that intense.
But I want to avoid falling into the “people are terrible” trap. I don’t want to become so jaded that I forget the enchantment of humanity. Yes, people are flawed and imperfect, but they can also be incredible.
I don’t want to be a “hater.” I don’t want to lose sight of all the good things people do. I don’t really hate everyone; I just hate how this past year has unfolded.
Fortunately, I’ve discovered a few things that help me feel less irritable. For starters, I remind myself that we’re all under immense stress and that grace is essential right now. Binge-watching mindless TV helps too (current guilty pleasure: “White Collar”). And it turns out that classic stress-relievers like meditation, exercise, and fresh air really do work (who knew?). Oh, and getting vaccinated has definitely improved my outlook. (Halle-freaking-lujah!)
In conclusion, this year has presented us with impossible choices. There haven’t been any truly good options, only less terrible ones. It’s bound to take a toll on anyone. So if you’re feeling frustrated and alone because everyone seems awful, know that you’re not alone. These feelings will pass… or at least I hope they will. And if they don’t? You might just find me living off-grid in a cabin with a pack of dogs.
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Summary
The past year has left many feeling exhausted, frustrated, and even isolated due to the ongoing pandemic. While the initial unity has faded, navigating the complexities of differing opinions and reactions to the crisis has taken a toll on relationships and perspectives on humanity. Despite these challenges, it’s crucial to remember the goodness in people and to seek grace as we all cope with this unprecedented experience.
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