For me, March 16, 2020 was the start of the pandemic. It’s when things got really real. It was a Monday and the Friday before, my company held a company-wide meeting to discuss shifting to remote work for the time being. At first, it was only going to be for a week… and then maybe a month… and then maybe until July… and now, here we are, two years later. Still in a pandemic, still working from home.
I’ll be honest with you: The pandemic hasn’t been too hard on me. There are a variety of reasons for that, all of which point to my incredible privilege:
- I was able to easily do my job from home.
- I didn’t lose my job or even worry about losing my job.
- I genuinely enjoy being alone and didn’t have trouble adjusting to a WFH lifestyle.
- Nobody close to me got seriously ill or died from Covid.
- As far as I know, I did not get Covid. If I did, it was an asymptomatic case.
- I don’t have kids, so I didn’t have to worry about remote learning or trying to work when daycares were closed.
- I was able to easily access the vaccine when it became available to me.
- I am not immunocompromised so I know the vaccines and boosters protect me pretty well.
- My mom lives close by and is not in a high-risk group, so I was able to keep her in my bubble and see her regularly. (Same goes for my brother.)
Another thing to note is that my anxiety disorder hasn’t been impacted too much by this pandemic. I don’t know why, but after the first six months of the pandemic when things felt especially dire and the medical community kept changing guidelines constantly, I entered this state of “what will be, will be.” Again, this is likely because I’m not high risk and do not have high-risk parents to worry about. I am very, very lucky in this regard. I understand my role in protecting the immunocompromised community, however, so I wore my mask even when mandates were lifted. I got vaccinated and boosted. And I tried to be as safe as possible when I was out in public (no big gatherings, quarantining when necessary, etc). I know a lot of people struggled with a fear of being in public where even a trip to Target could trigger an anxiety spiral, and that had to be so hard. With the way my anxiety can be, I am very grateful this wasn’t something I had to worry about too much.
One of the most difficult parts of the pandemic for me has been weighing decisions. At one point, everything I did felt like a moral decision. If I go to that restaurant, does that make me a bad person? If I expand my circle just a little bit, does that mean I’m not taking Covid seriously? If I attend this event, will people judge me? Is it ok to travel, or will people think I’m being selfish for being on a plane during an outbreak? Everything felt so fraught, every decision delivering a moral implication.
It’s been two years and it finally feels like there’s a light at the end of this very long tunnel. I’d like to believe we will enter an endemic phase of Covid sometime this year, but of course, that’s hard to predict. Most scientists don’t seem to think that’s coming anytime soon, especially with variants continuing to circulate. I am hopeful, though. And that’s something I didn’t have this time last year.
It’s been a hard two years for so many people. My heart aches for the people who lost loved ones to this virus, for the immunocompromised population who still feel really scared and unsure of how to protect themselves, for the kids who had their lives upended (graduations and school dances canceled, rites of passages put on hold), for the healthcare workers who took care of Covid patients at the detriment to their own health, for the frontline workers who delivered our food and supplies when we couldn’t leave our homes. I don’t know how we heal from the trauma of these past two years. The scars of the pandemic are going to live in us for a long, long time.
For me, the scars have less to do with the function of living during a pandemic and more to do with watching how people I know and love have reacted. Those who have refused to get vaccinated, citing conspiracy theories and unproven research. Those who didn’t take the pandemic seriously at all, not because they thought it was a hoax but because they just wanted to live their lives without taking into account other people. It was especially disheartening to see how churches reacted to the pandemic. Not all churches of course, and I’m not sure why I expected better from Christians (many of whom still support Trump), but adhering to CDC guidelines is not “living in fear.” Trying not to spread a deadly virus by masking and not gathering in large groups and getting vaccinated is the least we can do.
It’s been a long two years. It’s hard to remember what life was like before COVID-19. Sometimes, I think about the end of 2019 and how we kept hearing about this strange virus making its way through China. I never thought it would be something that would kill millions of people, put life on hold, and change the world as we know it. I never thought I’d live through a global pandemic. I never thought it would become normal to see people in masks as I’m grocery shopping or to meet up with friends and not be able to hug them.
I have a lot of hope that when March 2023 rolls around, we won’t still be living through the pandemic phase of this virus. Normalcy has begun to slowly return to our lives and it’s starting to feel less and less weird to walk around without a mask on, to gather in larger groups, to travel, to make plans. So, here’s to two years and to no more crazy variants to worry about and hopefully an endemic distinction from the WHO. Who knows what this next year will bring, but I’m going to hold on to my hope that things will be better than they are today.
(Of course, I wrote this whole post over the weekend, only to find out on Tuesday that a new variant similar to Omicron has caused massive lockdowns in China and is already circulating globally. So. I guess we’ll see what happens.)

























