Woman, 22, still has mental health issues triggered by pandemic

In March of 2020, I was 17, shopping for prom dresses, and ordering my cap and gown for high school graduation when the world abruptly shut down. 

The celebrations were stunted. Excitement was replaced with intense fear about our lives, our health and our futures. Gen Z suffered. I suffered. And I didn’t know how to pull myself out. 

It’s been five years since the pandemic started, and the anxiety that plagued me during that first year has calloused me for life. 

It was easy to fake being OK at first — but when reality hit me, it felt like my entire vision board of senior year activities was shattered. 

I stuffed the prom dress I spent months scouring the internet for in the back of my closet. I thought prom would be my chance to stand out and to have one last hurrah before going off to college. Now, I would never have that opportunity.

I felt so isolated. My school friends weren’t allowed to see me. There was a curfew in New York City, where I live, and no cafés or restaurants to meet at. My parents wouldn’t let me go outside other than the grocery store. We retreated to our house on Long Island to further separate ourselves. 

About six months into the pandemic, I suffered my first panic attack. 

I was sitting on the couch with my mom watching a movie when I suddenly couldn’t catch my breath. I asked for an inhaler and even went for a COVID test the following day, but nothing was physically wrong.

My anxiety showed up as other physical symptoms too: short breaths, sweaty palms and insomnia. 

But I still didn’t make the connection that it was anxiety until a friend told me she self-harmed. From that day forward, I couldn’t shake the thought that I, too, would reach a point where I might hurt myself just like her.

I managed to convince myself that everyone who suffers from anxiety is doomed, and that their life is over. I would stare at the ceiling all day wondering why I was thinking so much about suicide when I so desperately wanted to live.

I spent months merely going through the motions of my daily routine. Anxiety stripped the color from my life, and I couldn’t have fun without drowning in intrusive thoughts. I didn’t recognize myself anymore. 

During the holidays that year, I finally went for therapy and was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and obsessive-compulsive disorder. Death and suicide were my obsession, and my compulsion was repeatedly convincing myself I didn’t want to die. 

We went through exposure therapy to desensitize me to my intrusive thoughts, which involved everything from staring at a photo of a razor to closing my eyes and envisioning the thought in vivid detail. 

I struggled for about six months before I turned the corner. Once I started expecting the anxiety and intrusive thoughts, I wasn’t as scared of them. I realized that no matter how intense my thoughts were, I still made it through the day.

Studies show that approximately 50% of adults ages 18 to 24 suffer from anxiety. The adulting era is hard enough — we go away to college, start dating and spend hours on LinkedIn searching for jobs. The anxiety Gen Z has faced on top of that as a direct result of the pandemic is not fair. 

I believe my anxiety and OCD would have eventually manifested one way or another, but I’m certain that the loneliness caused by the pandemic was my trigger. 

It was hard to convince myself that life was worth living when, in 2020, there wasn’t much life to live. 

The impact of the pandemic on my mental health reverberates today. Every summer since 2020, I’ve avoided going back to our house on Long Island because I feel triggered. The lavender essential oil I smelled to calm myself after exposure therapy still sits on the nightstand. 

I’m five years removed at this point, and the anxiety is still overwhelming. 

To this day, I never had a high school prom or graduation. Those are huge milestones, and the fact that they’re forever missing from my life has left a scar. 

I’m not the only one my age still feeling the impact. One of my friends used to be an outgoing theater kid but has been much more soft-spoken since the pandemic. Another gets claustrophobic at parties and has to step away sometimes — that never used to happen.

The challenges I face now as a 22-year-old seem small compared to the pain I suffered at age 18. 

But the pandemic also taught me perseverance and the importance of self-care, and I think the same can be said for my peers. Once worriers, Gen Z has transformed into a class of warriors. 

Carrie Berk’s new book, Mindfire: Diary of an Anxious Twentysomething, is available for pre-order now on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. It officially releases on May 13, 2025.