We’ve all heard the term “pandemic wall.” It’s popped up everywhere—memes, articles, and countless conversations with friends and therapists. The idea is straightforward: we reach a point where we just can’t keep going. Our momentum halts, and we feel a breakdown coming on.
Maura Judkis noted in a recent piece for the Washington Post that “the pandemic wall” affects people at various times, but many have faced it recently. As she pointed out, “The year 2020 was cursed; this is widely acknowledged. But New Year’s Day brought little relief. The first month of this year felt a lot like the 13th month of last year.”
Honestly, I’ve hit that “pandemic wall” multiple times over the past year. Eventually, it stops being just a wall and evolves into something much deeper. For me, it feels like I’m in the throes of a full-blown pandemic existential crisis.
As 2021 rolled in, it became clear: we’re still in this. A 27-year-old creative director, Alex Rivera, shared this sentiment with the Washington Post: “I was like, how much longer can I do this? These are my lost years.”
Yes, the lost years. At a certain point, this ceases to be about simply pushing through and morphs into a profound questioning of identity and purpose. Unlike the wall you hit during a marathon or a long project at work, we can’t see the finish line. We’ve been promised a “light at the end of the tunnel” so many times that it feels more like a mirage—flickering briefly, then vanishing. Did it ever exist at all?
Most days, I get by just fine. I manage my work duties, tidy up after meals (thanks to my partner for cooking), tackle laundry, text friends, and prod my kids to finish their homework. I generally maintain a positive outlook. But then the surreal nature of our reality takes my breath away. Suddenly, I find myself doing something unusual like reorganizing the pantry at midnight, researching potential moves to Portugal, or crying in my car on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon (okay, maybe the crying isn’t that unusual).
Judkis also mentioned that some people facing their pandemic wall might resort to classic advice for runners: distract yourself, practice positive self-talk, seek help, or indulge in comfort foods. But that “put one foot in front of the other” approach only works if you’re still moving. Sometimes, the terrain has shifted so dramatically that we’re no longer walking; we’re crawling or frozen at a cliff’s edge. In those moments, the best choice might not be to keep moving forward but to pause, reassess, and alter our path.
I find myself in that situation now. Should I continue pushing forward, or is it time for a total change in direction? Is this really life now, indefinitely? Masks, endless Zoom meetings, and weeks spent at home? What is happening? We’re living that “everything is fine” meme while secretly feeling like we’re in a dumpster fire. We tell ourselves we’re cultivating resilience, holding on to the hope that things will soon return to normal, but this isn’t sustainable. Not at all.
Some days, I question my identity, my location, and my desires. I don’t feel like I’ve merely hit a wall; it’s more like I’m caught in a whirlwind of chaos, with a giant hammer of uncertainty crashing down on me at random intervals. I long for the mundane small talk with strangers while also craving complete solitude on my couch. Some days, I want to push my career to new heights, and other days, I dream of a nomadic life.
The reality of the pandemic, a year in, is unsettling: a fierce competition for limited vaccines, widespread refusal to wear masks, and new variants threatening any progress made. This is a surreal situation we find ourselves in. Yet, we act as if everything is fine when deep down, we’re screaming that this is far from okay.
So yes, I’m struggling, and I suspect that if you’re being honest, you are too. Acknowledging this doesn’t negate the privileges I hold—having a job, good health, and a safe home. I recognize my fortune. Yet, I’m also utterly confused, exhausted, and grappling with a pandemic existential crisis. I don’t have any advice to offer, except that you’re not alone. There’s no right or wrong way to feel during this time. And, as a little reminder, swearing can be a surprisingly effective coping mechanism until we regain our footing.
If you’re interested in more about navigating these challenges, check out this insightful piece on the topic here. For further authoritative insights, visit this resource and explore this excellent podcast for pregnancy and home insemination.
For more information relevant to your journey, consider these searches: How to cope with pandemic stress, Navigating life changes during a pandemic, Finding purpose in uncertain times, Self-care tips for pandemic fatigue, and Building resilience during crises.
Summary
The article explores the emotional toll of the pandemic, moving beyond the concept of a “pandemic wall” to address a deeper existential crisis. It highlights the confusion and struggle many face while trying to maintain a sense of normalcy in a chaotic world. The author acknowledges feelings of anxiety and uncertainty while emphasizing the importance of recognizing these emotions without shame. Ultimately, it encourages readers to understand they are not alone in their struggles.