Like many others, I am sad. My psychologist told me that when I feel this way, I should write how I feel, because that’s what I know how to do. I am not very good at many things, but I would like to think that I can tell a story decently well. Today is not a story. Today is for me.
For over a year, our lives have been changed. This pandemic has affected everyone in different ways, and has tested our mental every step of the way. Some have handled COVID-19 better than others. I, unfortunately, have not responded to this situation all that well at all. The reason for this is rooted in my mental illness.
For many years, I have lived with anxiety and depression. I can’t remember the last time I woke up and wasn’t immensely stressed out about something. Whether it be money, friends, family, work, relationships or anything in between, I am in a constant state of panic. When I am not feeling worried, I am usually depressed. It comes on suddenly, sharply and without warning, like a thief in the night. It takes your inhibitions and tests your will, making you question your life and your purpose. As author Kay Redfield Jamison says in her book Night Falls Fast: Understanding Suicide,“The horror of profound depression, and the hopelessness that usually accompanies it, are hard to imagine for those who have not experienced them. Because the despair is private, it is resistant to clear and compelling description.”
With this in mind, it’s easy to see why the pandemic has exacerbated my mental health struggles. For a while, I tried to tune out of social media, because my partner told me it was “doom scrolling.” I agree, but with nothing else going on, it’s hard to stay away from my phone. I hope in my mind that things will get better, but the variants have complicated things, adding to the increasing chest palpitations and nonstop restlessness I feel.
This past week has been particularly tough. On Tuesday, as numbers continued to soar and we headed towards total lockdown, I woke up feeling a sense of hopelessness. That hopelessness has not left since then. I feel defeated by the virus, and don’t know where to turn. Usually when I’m sad, I head to the football field. It has been my escape for as long as I can remember – whether it be playing or covering the sport – but I haven’t seen an organized game of tackle football played in this province since November of 2019. There isn’t even a CFL game to watch, as they’ve been off the field for the same duration.
I understand that there are many people whose lives have been changed far more drastically than mine during this pandemic. I am also thankful that I live in a first world country, have a roof over my head, consistent work and food on the table during such uncertain times. But that doesn’t make things any easier. Football for me, is where I feel at home. It’s where all of my friends are, and where I can be myself. I feel a sense of purpose when I am on the gridiron covering the great Canadian game. When I am at home, I feel isolated and uncomfortable. I have lost a great deal of confidence in myself as I continue to battle with the war being waged inside of my head.
I know that there is an end in sight to this pandemic, and I know that everyone who overcomes this will be better for it. Vaccine rollouts continue, and second doses are becoming increasingly more available. That is reason for optimism, despite the chaos that continues to engulf our province and our country. But in the present, I am still struggling. I vent to my partner, but I know that she is struggling too. I don’t want to place the burden of my sadness on her shoulders, so I carry on silently in pain, wishing and hoping to feel like myself.
Every day I wake up and sink deeper and deeper into the abyss. There are times where I wish I didn’t wake up, and that this pain and sadness would leave me. But it won’t. It’s here to stay, and so I continue to fight, because I know that there will be brighter days. I know that our lives will return to normal, and that our youth will be back on the field, embracing each other and learning and growing. I wait patiently for that day, just like I wait patiently for my sanity to return. In times like this, I return to my marathon running days, and remind myself to just take it one step at a time.”
-MS-