Managing chronic depression during COVID-19 is hard.
It seems like we can click on just about any link to a news source these days and read about how depression and anxiety disorders have skyrocketed during the COVID-19 pandemic. A recent Boston University School of Public Health study reports that the percentage of U.S. adults reporting being depressed went from 8.5 percent before the pandemic to a whopping 27.8 percent in the midst of the pandemic. With this alarming rise in the number of Americans reporting problems with depression, I began to wonder what was happening to those of us who struggled with depression before the pandemic.
For some of us, managing chronic depression began long before COVID-19 came along. For me, it began more than 20 years ago, during my participation in yet-another-weight-loss-program. This time, I was trying a medically-supervised fast that required us to be part of a psychotherapy group. Surprising to me at the time was that we rarely discussed food or dieting or even weight loss in this group.
Instead, we told our stories of how we came to feel trapped in our big bodies, invisible, alone. I knew I was fat because I ate too much, but I’d never given much thought to why I ate what I did, or what the benefit of overeating or the benefit of being fat was for me. After a couple of individual sessions with the program’s psychiatrist, he suggested that I might be suffering from depression, and prescribed an antidepressant.
This was the beginning of my journey of depression management. Through the years, I’ve been on a plethora of different antidepressants. I’ve tried anti-anxiety meds (a lifesaver when I lost both my parents within seven weeks of each other), meditation, Reiki, individual psychotherapy, support groups, and marriage counseling. All had some element of success. They all contributed to my “toolkit” for managing my depression.
With the help of therapy, I learned to feel my feelings, and talk about the beliefs and misguided lessons I had learned that contributed to my negative self-image. I began to understand that my eating was the tool I used to stuff down the feelings I was afraid might destroy me. After a lot of trial and error, I found a good psychiatrist and he helped me find the medication that worked for me. For the first time, I had more good days than bleak ones.
Early in 2019, my depression came roaring back. A job that I’d long loved with an employer that felt more like a family had soured. The little employee-owned company I loved and respected was sold to a global corporate behemoth. My job title and duties changed repeatedly. Leadership gave way to a revolving door of clueless managers. The people I’d worked with for decades were laid off or forced to retire. I gained 30 pounds in three months of stress eating. My depression and anxiety became so unmanageable that I decided to retire early. I felt good about my decision because I felt that it was a way of caring for myself, of putting my mental health first, of managing my depression.
The change was nearly immediate. I stopped stress eating and started losing weight. I began sleeping better; I no longer woke up too early after being awake too late, with a knot of anxiety in my gut. I went for walks in the afternoon with my dog. I began looking for the kind of work I’d always wanted — as a freelance writer and content creator; with a side hustle of Reiki massage. I planned a YouTube channel focused on my late mom’s favorite recipes.
And then, COVID-19, previously believed to be a scary health problem in China only, hit the U.S. And then, in early March, the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a pandemic. My state was in lockdown (and still is, to a large degree).
Lockdown was the end of hands-on Reiki. I applied for hundreds of jobs, but no one seemed interested in hiring a freelance writer with no freelance experience. I traded work stress for the stress of watching my finances start to dwindle. I had two emergency knee surgeries at a time when visiting any kind of health care facility seemed the epitome of danger.
Through it all, I couldn’t understand why I felt so anxious and sad. I was retired! No more hamster wheel, no more terrible bosses. No late nights and early mornings. No need for alcohol. I had discovered Medium and was writing every day. My knees were healing. I told myself I should be feeling better. I quit therapy.
In talking with some friends the other day, we all seemed to be struggling more than usual. One friend shared that she had enrolled in a weight loss program, but felt very resistant to giving up an overabundance of starchy carbs even though she knew they were making her feel worse. Another friend said her career-induced depression not only hadn’t gone away after she changed careers, but it felt so different now; it required a change in the type and dosage of medication she was on.
I understood then that as well-managed as I felt my depression had become after I left my job, that progress had been decimated by COVID-19. I had successfully removed one of my biggest depressors (my job), but I hadn’t considered how difficult it would be to manage depression during the pandemic. Even now, more than six months after the pandemic was announced, I continue to struggle. The awareness that I am not alone gives me some comfort and helps to quiet the negative voices telling me to get over it already. Managing depression during COVID-19 is a gargantuan task, and chances are high many of us cannot do it alone.
The first thing I did when I realized what was happening was to call my doctor and arrange a video appointment. We discussed how I was feeling, what I was taking, and what was going on. He prescribed some medication and we discussed my daily routine, what I was eating, how much I was exercising, and how well I was sleeping.
Next, I grabbed my therapy journal and started reading it. I found red flags about a month into the pandemic; posts oozing with anxiety, anger, and fear. Posts hastily scrawled, gaps of days, and then weeks. I recommitted myself to return to writing in it every day.
Since I had this realization while Zooming with friends, I started reaching out more. I scheduled Zoom chats and virtual meditation groups, chatted with my neighbors from a safe distance, and met weekly with my “bubble buddy.” I set up daily walks outside with my husband.
Looking for more help? The U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs offers an excellent publication full of self-care tips and resources to help veterans and non-veterans alike manage depression during COVID-19. Self-care strategies outlined by the VA include the following:
- Maintain structure during your day and stick to healthy eating, exercise, and sleep routines.
- If you take meds for depression, set reminders (like an alarm on Alexa or your phone) to help you make sure you stay on schedule.
- Try to do at least one thing you enjoy every day, such as taking a walk outside, playing with your pet, or listening to music.
- Keep tabs on your use of alcohol or other substances, and reach out for help if you think your consumption might be having a negative effect on your mood or health.
- Reach out to your family members, friends, and neighbors while staying physically distanced. A short text message, phone call, or virtual chat can help boost your spirits — and theirs.
For me, this realization that taking care of my depression is more difficult — and more important — than ever before gives me hope that I can help myself feel better, now that I understand more about why I have been feeling so bad. Remember that even in this vile, hideous, terrifying, and infuriating year, we still can find hope, and we aren’t alone in needing it. Take good care.
