What a whirlwind of a year it’s been! I’m feeling completely worn out, emotionally drained, and utterly spent. Each day feels like a gamble: Is it just fatigue, the lack of social interaction beyond my immediate family for the past 382 days (but who’s counting), my all-carb diet, or just a bad mood? Who really knows?
Let me clarify: I usually find people to be quite remarkable. Sure, there are a few exceptions, but I’ve always thought that, for the most part, most people are good. I still hold on to that belief. But wow, the past year has really put that to the test.
Honestly, there were days when I felt like I was just over everyone. Scrolling through social media, glancing at news headlines, or even chatting with a close friend could send me into a spiral of frustration. I found myself feeling resentment towards everyone—even those I truly admire. It was bizarre; a photo of friends in a carefree gathering could ignite my anger, while posts discussing the risks of in-person schooling could bring me to tears (especially since my kids returned to school in January).
What was happening to me? How did I become so cynical? I genuinely appreciate people, dammit.
Here’s the reality: People can be truly inspiring and wonderful, but they can also exhibit selfishness and ignorance. This past year has revealed some unsettling truths about humanity, and not all of them are pleasant. Individuals I once thought were kind have revealed hidden prejudices. Friends I believed to be open-minded have shown themselves to be conspiracy theorists who dismiss the expertise of highly trained doctors and scientists simply because they’re reluctant to wear a mask.
Crisis situations tend to unveil our true selves, and this one has been particularly harsh. Friendships have changed or faded away, and I’ve lost respect for many. My faith in humanity has taken a hit.
The early pandemic spirit of unity disappeared faster than I could blink. Instead, the mantra has been every person for themselves. It’s been a year rife with shouting, accusations, and a whirlwind of confusion. Every choice, even simple ones like grocery shopping or sending kids to school, has become morally and ethically charged. Some view grocery trips as dangerous, while others think it’s wrong to be overly cautious if it jeopardizes their family’s mental health. If I allow my kids to play outside with friends while keeping a distance, but won’t let them enter a friend’s home—even with masks on—does that mean I’m too paranoid? Or too reckless? If I choose to get vaccinated when I qualify, even if I feel I don’t need it yet, am I acting responsibly by getting vaccinated early or selfishly because I could wait longer?
The constant second-guessing and judgment have been exhausting, coming from all sides—including myself. It’s a kind of mental and emotional whiplash that wears you down.
Truthfully, I have never felt as lonely as I did this past year. It wasn’t just the inability to be around people outside my household, but also the feeling that no one (other than my partner, thankfully) understood my struggles. Many of us have shared this sense of isolation.
Regardless of how you’ve managed during the pandemic, finding someone who truly shares your perspective seems impossible. (And no, I’m not referring to anti-maskers—that’s a different conversation.) Among those of us who have taken the virus seriously, we all have different comfort levels. Some are okay with in-person schooling but adamant about wearing masks, while others are fine with indoor family gatherings but hesitant about grocery shopping. Some chose strict isolation, while others embarked on road trips across the country.
Navigating these complexities has been emotionally and physically draining. Honestly, I sometimes fantasized about escaping to the wilderness with a pack of dogs. Yeah, it’s been that intense.
But I don’t want to resort to the “people are terrible” reflex. I refuse to become so jaded that I overlook the truly enchanting aspects of humanity. Yes, we are flawed and imperfect, but we are also capable of incredible things.
I don’t want to be a “hater.” I want to remember the good in people. I don’t hate everyone; I just despise what the past year has entailed.
Fortunately, I’ve found a few things that help ease my frustration. First, I remind myself that we’re all under immense stress and not at our best right now. Everyone is on edge and deserves some grace. Binge-watching mindless TV helps too (currently enjoying “White Collar”). And those age-old stress relievers like meditation, exercise, and fresh air actually do help (who would’ve thought?). Oh, and getting vaccinated has been a blessing (thank goodness!).
Ultimately, this year has been filled with impossible choices. There were no perfect options, only ones that were less terrible. That’s bound to take a toll. If you’re feeling irritable and isolated because of how everyone seems to be acting, know you’re not alone. These feelings are likely to pass… I hope. And if they don’t? You might just find me living off the grid in a cozy cabin with a pack of dogs.
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In summary, the past year has challenged our perceptions of humanity and our relationships with one another. Navigating the complexities of social interactions during this time has left many feeling drained and isolated. While it’s easy to fall into a mindset of cynicism, it’s crucial to remember the good in people and seek grace during these challenging times.