It’s not the coronavirus I’m afraid of, it’s not being able to return to life as usual following my discharge from treatment. For the past ninety days I’ve been anxiety-free. My treatment doctor even pulled me off my anti-anxiety medication because I was showing no signs of debilitating anxiety. Well, now I’m back in the real world and the real world has decided to go to hell.

Anxiety has returned to my mind like an unwelcome squatter, and it has made even basic tasks arduous. Aside from not being able to do any productive work at all, I’ve stayed in bed or on my couch shaking for hours as my body tries to deal with the excess cortisol racing through my system. I tried hard for two weeks to manage the anxiety with medication, and exercise, but that goes out the window when one wakes up into a panic attack. Imagine trying to do anything after waking up certain you were about to be murdered by a serial killer.

Then, COVID-19 did a number on the country and I no longer have any of my usual coping environments. I cannot work at coffee shops because everything is “takeout only,” and the yoga studio I go to closed it doors out of an abundance of caution. Normally, when feeling like everything is out of control, I would go to my favorite sushi place for some quality dinner and a good book. Now, I feel it’s my responsibility to avoid going out if at all possible.

Yay! Says the introvert inside of me. My entire life has been an experiment with “social distancing,” and now that world is a reality! Unfortunately, this world happens to have eliminated all sports and other live entertainment with which I could usually distract myself. My ability to get lost in refereeing a lacrosse game has been taken away, and I’m in a bind to determine what I will do to replace this cherished activity.

What is obvious is that my anxiety has overpowered my logical faculties. I’ve been avoiding work, isolating myself from my friends and family, not eating well, and toying with fantasies of taking too many sleeping pills as an escape from all this fear. All of these build on one another until a really poor decision is likely to me made. So today I took steps:

• Showered, ate breakfast, got coffee.

• Called my sister.

• Collected my excess sleeping pills and brought them to my parent’s house. (They’ll hold onto them until I need a refill).

• Set up a miniature office in my parent’s kitchen.

• Played with their dog, Blanch.

This piece is also part of me doing a little bit of what I love to do, but have gotten away from due to fear. I stepped away from writing to focus on work. While that sounded like a good idea and a way to prevent myself from being overwhelmed, I got overwhelmed by work anyway and my anxiety has been raised to new heights. Now it’s time to decrease the fear that I’ve allowed to build since my discharge. I honestly thought that I had overcome my anxiety in treatment, and that it was not going to be a problem.

Here’s the problem - I found nothing to be anxious about while at the treatment facility. People were nice, the schedule was predictable, lunch was provided, and we all worked through our personal challenges. Since leaving, my nerves have been shot, and while I’m grateful my doctor prescribed a low-dose of Klonopin to help get me through the worst of panic attacks; I must do more to calm myself. Fortunately, I know some ways of doing that!

• Regular times to go to bed and wake up.

• Cold showers - I really don’t want to go back to these, but they’re the most effective tool I’ve come across for demolishing fear in the body.

• Continue taking my prescribed medication.

• Write! This is my continued therapy.

• Listen to guided meditations (I feel too wired to do traditional sit-down meditations).

• Visit my parents often.

• Talk/text with my friends frequently.

My return to real life hasn’t been nearly as smooth as I had hoped, and real life has decided to become drastically different with the response necessary to stem the tide of this virus. What I can continue to hope for is to not lose my head and make impulsive decisions that could negatively impact my health. I’ll be socially responsible and keep my distance, but I also need people to support me as I make my transition out of treatment and into life.