As I shut down my laptop after another videochat on Zoom with my book club, that familiar feeling came over me. Sitting in a now-dark room, my partner asleep in the bedroom and having drunk two glasses of wine, I initially felt content. But soon, I started to second-guess everything I had said over the several hours I had spent virtually with my friends.
Was that thing I said weird?” I asked myself. Had I (again) overshared either something about myself, my hopes and dreams or my relationship, made too blunt or too disparaging a comment in the heat of the moment or not paid close enough attention to something one of my friends had said? I shut my laptop, went to the bedroom and woke up my fiancé, where I asked him what he thought of one of the exchanges I had with the women, some of my closest friends, despite knowing his alarm was set for a far-too-early hour of the morning.
This familiar dance is my new normal. Before Covid arrived on the scene, I rarely had these anxieties around conversations I had and if they ever floated to the surface, they didn’t leave much of an impact and were quickly forgotten. I’m a blend of extrovert and introvert who loves chatting and interacting but also her own company and would have considered myself mostly confident despite the odd blip here and there. But now, it’s all changed and even a quick social interaction with anyone from outside my very small bubble had me writhing in knots, second-guessing every word exchanged.
It’s been a long time since Covid arrived on the scene and we all started to work from home, something I really enjoyed. But now I worry it’s been too long since we had a “normal” idea of run-of-the-mill social interactions that used to be the norm or indeed, whether that normal will ever return. Because despite socialising less, I’m stressing more about connecting. The only term for it would be a form of mild social anxiety triggered by some of the simplest interactions, even with my siblings or parents and is characterised by the unease I feel after having spent time with someone who is not my partner.
The World Health Organisation has warned the impact on mental health impact of the pandemic will be “long-term and far-reaching” and have called for action on Covid-linked anxiety and stress. They warned no one will escape the impact. In a statement last week, they said “anxieties around virus transmission, the psychological impact of lockdowns and self-isolation” had contributed to a mental health crisis, along with stresses linked to unemployment, financial worries and social alienation.
This is something it’s important to remember as big milestones such as the reopening of indoor dining in the Republic and Freedom Day in England means many are eager to get out and go to bars and restaurants. It comes with spending as much time with friends as possible and while I’m still cautious,
I’m one of those people who desperately wants to reconnect, however it makes me feel. But I’m also wondering when I’ll feel myself again — when I won’t wake up in the middle of the night, troubled by a casual remark or a joke I made I’m worried may have been taken the wrong way.
It’s certainly not easy to interact in these changed times, where so many of the cues we relied on and the safe spaces we inhabited have all but disappeared.
Take for example the minefield of the hug. It was once an easy and warm gesture to share with a friend but it was rightly taken away with the advent of the pandemic. But now, some people are hugging again and when you meet a friend, it’s hard to gauge whether they’ll be offended if you don’t offer an embrace or whether they’ll feel uncomfortable if you do. Some people are less concerned than others and that’s certainly the case at an event I attended last week. It was an amazing occasion and it felt almost like things were back to normal despite being overwhelmed by being surrounded by so many people and the sheer volume of conversations I had that day.
After 17 months of only interacting with those closest to me, I felt so overstimulated by the amount of people present, while others from the outside I felt took it in their stride, appearing completely normal and at ease.
Maybe it’s impossible to totally leave behind any lingering discomfort I have around the pandemic, the threat of the virus and the way it’s affected all of our lives. But one thing’s for sure, it’s taught me a lot about being gentle with myself, taking it slow and treasuring the connections in which I feel most at ease.