Put Me Back in Quarantine

Pandemic lockdown was good for me, so what do I do now?

Let me start by acknowledging that the COVID-19 pandemic was horrifying, particularly in its early stages. People were infected at an alarming rate, many died, and some continue to suffer the effects of infection today. Families lost loved ones, and I recognize that if I had lost someone close to me, my message here would be different. But strange as it may seem, the year-long lockdown period beginning in March 2020 was among the best experiences of my life.

The first few weeks were frightening and surreal. It took a while to fully process what was happening, and even then, there was so much uncertainty. I was living alone, having just moved into a new apartment in late February 2020 following the end of a long-term relationship. I have never struggled with being alone. I’m introverted by nature, and I enjoy—even need— a certain amount of healthy solitude. I treasure the option to be alone. But this was different. It wasn’t a choice.

Slowing Down

I had made the mistake of trying to date too soon after the breakup. I clearly wasn’t ready, but I kept scheduling dates anyway. It was becoming compulsive. The pandemic put a swift end to that behavior. I needed time and space to recover from the recent events of my life, and I was going to get it whether I asked for it or not.

This was the first benefit I noticed. Life in lockdown made engaging in the routines I recognized as my life impossible. Continuing to go the places I normally went, do the things I normally did, or even think the way I normally thought wasn’t an option. I was forced to disengage autopilot.

It was like being transported to an alternate universe, a slower moving and more introspective universe. It was jarring at first, but it came at a time when to slow down and look within was exactly what I needed to do. Unable to run around out in the world and do things, I was forced to be still and just be. For the first time in my life—after many stops and starts over the years—I began a mindfulness meditation practice and maintained it. I meditated with increasing frequency and duration, eventually settling into a 45-minute routine of daily practice for the better part of a year. The resulting insights reduced my anxiety level and had a transformative impact on my mood.

Sensory Relief

I am a sensitive person by nature. Meaning not just that I think and feel emotions deeply, but that I experience sights, sounds, and smells intensely. A growing body of research suggests that at least 20% of the population has what is called Sensory-Processing Sensitivity (SPS), a trait characterized by heightened sensory experience. The research suggests that it’s an inherited trait, linked to a particular genetic profile. There is little doubt that I am part of that 20%.

There are benefits. I read body language well, and I am highly responsive to people’s emotions. A downside is that I am easily overwhelmed by the noise and attentional demands of large social events. When the pandemic temporarily removed all social expectation of participating in such activities, I was relieved. I enjoy meeting up with small groups of close friends—situations in which meaningful conversation is possible—but my energy is drained rapidly by large noisy gatherings where a lot of small talk is required.

Paradoxically, the extended isolation period brought my need to regularly connect with people into sharp focus. Grateful as I was for an excuse to avoid crowds, I found myself contacting close friends and family with atypical frequency during lockdown for no other reason than to say hello and catch up.

Self-Care Explosion

Maintaining personal connections wasn’t the only healthy habit I was more intentional about during the pandemic. Self-care was already an industry well before quarantine began, but stuck inside in front of our computers, there was no way to avoid its messaging. It was hard to open a browser without encountering an article outlining self-care steps or an ad for the latest supposedly revolutionary self-care product. The incessant marketing was cynical and opportunistic, but the core messages—stay connected, exercise, commune with nature, etc.—were undeniably positive.

Being sequestered pushed the notion of taking better care of myself to the forefront of my thinking. I sought out new green spaces to visit in my city, found creative new ways to exercise, and read books about spiritual development. At a time when the threat of illness was everywhere, I felt healthier and more self-assured than I had in years.

Back in the Real World

It didn’t take long for all that to change. Less than a year removed, and back in the swing of pre-pandemic living, I struggled to maintain the self-care routines I learned in lockdown. My exercise routine was hit-or-miss, and my meditation practice ground to a halt. I was more prone to rumination about the negative state of the world, my general anxiety level trended back upward, and my mood was less balanced. In many ways, I was right back where I started. But in one very important sense, I was not: I had discovered a formula that worked. I had a toolbox of habits that were proven to turn things around if I could only manage to put them back in play.

Life in lockdown was, for me, a form of escape. It quieted the noise and cleared a path for profound lifestyle change by making many of my toughest life decisions for me. Free of some significant personal and social roadblocks, I learned what it takes to stop pushing to be someone else and relax into contentment with being myself. I am reminded of a favorite quote from E.E. Cummings:

It was an unprecedentedly dramatic situation, and as such, I saw dramatic results. It’s not a circumstance I’m likely to encounter again, so what do I do now that those roadblocks are back in place?

What I’ve realized is that before the pandemic and after, my priorities—the activities I chose to devote my time and energy to—were out of order.

So Now What?

If any of this resonates with you, I think what’s required is a close examination of how you spend your time. How much of your time is spent in service of lifting yourself up as compared to holding yourself in place? How much of what you do is an intentional nudge in the direction of feeling more centered and at peace, versus time spent on autopilot, guided by some external, social media comparison-driven sense of what someone in your position—at your stage in life (whatever that means)—should be doing.

If your digestive system was out of balance, the first thing a doctor would recommend is keeping a food journal. Monitor what goes in and out of your body to determine what helps and what hurts. In that same spirit, I recommend an audit of how you spend your time. Record your activities for a day or two—what you choose to do with your time and for how long. If you’re a busier person with a lot of responsibilities to care for others, focus on your little windows of free time (few though they may be). Look back at what you did with your time and reflect on how it makes you feel. Which choices were positive, possibly even energizing and worth repeating, and which were not? What was at the top of your priority list, and what was at the bottom in the I’ll get to it if there’s time category? Experiment with moving a neglected activity—something you know from experience to be good for you—to the top of the list and discontinuing an activity that doesn’t serve you well. Accept that some behaviors will be more difficult to change than others, and that’s okay. Focus on tiny changes at first, and build stamina. Repeat this process for as long as it takes—without pushing too hard—and eventually, you’ll have a priority list entirely of your own creation, a set of behaviors that elevates you instead of holding you down.

My time audit showed an all-or-nothing approach to self-care. Confronted by the challenges of life outside the pandemic bubble, I let the very activities that lifted me up during lockdown—meditation, exposure to nature, purposeful reading, staying connected—slip down my list or off it entirely. What I’ve learned is that it’s possible to reintroduce those positive habits gradually—a few minutes here, a few minutes there—until a series of small gains becomes something greater.

A year in quarantine sent me straight to my destination without giving me the directions to return. I had to figure those out for myself.