Viktor
Well-known member
- Mar 19, 2019
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Throughout this entire series, various guests have talked about the difficulties of the past 13-plus months. Between the coronavirus, political and societal unrest and racial injustices, 2020 and beyond has been heavy for everyone in so many ways.
One thing about me is that I've always wrestled with a lot of medical anxiety. So when the pandemic hit, I – like many, many others – found myself seriously struggling emotionally and mentally.
What if I get seriously ill? What if I'm carrying the virus and infect someone I care about? What if I lose a loved one to this disease?
(Spoiler alert: "What if" is a common go-to when dealing with anxiety.)
Being cautious is a recurring theme for me, and I followed the same approach with this. But in late October, I tested positive for COVID-19.
I'm thankful that, medically speaking, I had a mild/moderate case, but my heart breaks for those who have suffered significant, painful losses. Physically, I started to recover. The fever broke, the shortness of breath lessened and I gradually regained energy.
But mentally, I spiraled into a dark place. The anxiety disorder quickly became a panic disorder that relentlessly pummeled my brain and body. For days that turned into weeks, I struggled to eat or sleep, and I couldn't do the job I sincerely love.
On Nov. 23, I sent a group text to my roommate and two of our close friends:
Friends, I really need prayer. I've never been this low or this scared in my life. I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel.
For the first time in my life, I can say I understood the true meaning of hopelessness – and it's something I don't wish on anyone.
I truly wondered if the sun would ever come out again.
But it did.