The Adoption of an Isolationist Policy: A Reflection on Mental Health & the Pandemic

written February 2021

My mental health was not the best preceding the pandemic, and whenever I find myself in such a state, my go-to phrase is “I want to crawl in a hole.” Covid-19 turned that ostensible desire into a reality.

The months following the lockdown, I said to people that March 13th, 2020 was the worst my mental health had been, that despite the hardships the pandemic caused, quarantine itself surprisingly had its benefits. It was a much needed breather for me. I spent my time slowing down, attempting to regain my love for things rather than just trying to get by. High school was so jam-packed with everything from academics to writing and directing plays, leading clubs, photographing events, playing football - basically me being a part of anything and everything and getting the most out of my high school experience. They were the parts of life that I loved and lived for, but at one point I lost my sense of balance and found it very difficult to regain.

With the extra time Covid bestowed upon us, I spent a lot more time outdoors. I’d go on walks, runs, hikes, bike rides all throughout Queens (I biked all the way from Bayside to Central Park one day), and I even taught myself how to rollerblade. I grew to rely on getting my daily dose of endorphins straight from nature, or at least by starting my day with some good ole me time.

The hardest part was not seeing my friends. I went exactly 40 days and 40 nights in what I called a “twisted version of Catholic Lent” that forced me to give up seeing the people who make me smile on the daily. I broke my Covid-fast on the 40th day with a socially distanced photoshoot I gifted to one of my best friends on her birthday. I was inspired by photographers who were doing socially-distanced doorstep shoots around their neighborhoods so I wrote up a whole Covid-safe plan complete with supporting evidence to convince our parents to let it happen.

Before Covid, during one of my low points in mental health (when I wanted to “crawl in a hole”), I drew a doodle of a Super Mario Bros Question Block decorated with the words “the adoption of an isolationist policy... what happens next?” (around the same time, my history class was learning about U.S. isolationism). After almost a year of Covid, a year of isolation, I have come to realize that though crawling into the hole that is our homes can give one time to think and prioritize oneself, it does not equal a solution to struggles.

A couple weeks into the pandemic, I was out on a bike ride near Fort Totten, pedalling through Little Bay Park. I was confused as I saw people walking off the path around police tape, but as I slowed down, I caught sight of a figure lying on the grass wrapped in a white bag. A man had jumped off the bridge and committed suicide.

Though my mental health was slowly improving, this served as a startling and unsettling reminder that many were experiencing the opposite. Rates of anxiety and depression have understandably been on the rise throughout the pandemic. As the months went on, Covid gradually started getting closer to me. Students within my school community. Distant relatives. My heart stopped when I heard that the father of a student in my grade passed away. And then, just last week, I attended the wake for my best friend’s grandmother, who passed away after being in and out of the ICU since Christmas. That is the closest Covid has gotten to me, and it's not easy to watch those you love mourn, let alone have to do so masked, socially distanced, and over Zoom.

I feel like at times I might come across as insensitive to the pandemic when I talk about my personal experience. I wasn’t upset about losing prom or graduation. Being a part of so many things in high school, I didn’t feel like I missed out, and working on my mental health was a priority, something more important to me than big celebrations. I admit, I was disappointed about my first year of college being virtual, but my experience with Covid has given me a great deal of time to reflect, taught me a lot about myself, and led me to develop the mental resilience that was tiring out a year ago. But it is difficult to live in a time of such widespread death and uncertainty.

I, as I’m sure the rest of us are, am at the point where I would love to crawl out of this hole that is quarantine, but this hole is not one we’ve dug to run away. It’s a hole that’s been dug to fight. To keep our communities safe. To protect one another. Like trench warfare against Covid-19. So, regardless of our experiences, we need to keep this isolationist policy, and I wish only the best of health, both mental and physical, for those living through this unprecedented time.

All photos by Savannah Sclafani