7 signs you developed ‘Anthrophobia’ over the pandemic

By nature, I am a social creature…the one who gets energy from being around humans. I was the one you could find dancing on tables, creating shenanigans, and talking to everyone that I came across. I lived fully, had gratitude every day, and offered a high vibration out to the world. I attracted friends like a magnet, and cherished every one of them. A trip to Costco became a social event, and I didn’t ever want to be alone. I surrounded myself with people and I was in my happy place...all the time. Over the pandemic, I found myself using my face mask as an invisibility cloak, not even caring what I was wearing, and going down a different aisle in the store if there was more than 1 person in it, avoiding humans at all costs. But, it had a cost. It happened so gradually, I didn’t even notice as I slid down the slippery slope. I suppose everyone started acting that way, so I felt normal. After the mask mandate lifted, I was watching my groups of friends travel, go to concerts, and have fun. I was still on a personal soul lockdown. The only people I saw were my sister on random occasions and maybe one or two co-workers when we mustered up the energy to go to the office. So, what on earth was going on with me? To say I had lost my sparkle is an understatement, it felt more like low-grade confusing depression that I couldn’t figure out the cause of. I had lost my ability to feel true elation, let alone standard joy. I blamed it on menopause, or lack of sun in Seattle, or maybe it was my habit of numbing my feelings after work with a big goblet of wine? I had the biggest and most powerful AH-HA when listening to a podcast. A true “By G-d, Watson — that’s it!” moment. A true ‘slap yourself, you could’ve had a V-8' feeling. Human connection is one of the pillars we need in life. The more extroverted our baseline is, the more we need it. I had pinched myself off socially over the pandemic into my own self-imposed prison, and developed a fear of people: Anthrophobia. Apparently I am not alone! The more I talk about this, the more I hear ‘omg, me too’. I spent last week teaching a class to teenagers and I was shocked that they all have it in a deep way that is going to take a miracle to fix (I’m working on that). The class was radio silence, and although it was in-person, they hid behind their masks that weren’t required. I understand the pain our educators felt last year as if the kids stayed on mute with their screens off even when back at school. The good news is that I cured myself within weeks with intention, education, and effort. Literally, cured.

Are you saying ‘me too’? Here’s a few signs that I look back on and can see with clarity now.

Sign 1: You say no invitations

I’ve only seen my best friend a handful of times since 2020 (she’s got anthrophobia too). We made a little game of inviting each other to do things, then cancelling, or outdoing each other’s excuses. I called my mom every day, but have probably only seen her five times in the past two years (she admitted she had anthrophobia too). I always said I was too busy with work, school, caring for my dying father, or had to be at home for my family. That wasn’t true…I knew I would have such high anxiety that I would embarrass myself by having a panic attack. I did accept an invitation to a Mariner’s game, and before the event I was sick to my stomach, sweating, and had to lay on the tile floor. I didn’t get up during the game, as I was having trouble staying conscious and my vision would start closing in and I would break out into a cold sweat. Classic panic attacks, but I held it together on the outside and faked my way through it. It was exhausting.

Sign 2: You develop negative coping skills

During the dark days of the pandemic, I had gone back to school full-time, got an energetic puppy, and dedicated myself to the upkeep of the house. But, I was bored, listless, spinning in circles — I decided that I could over-busy myself and took a full time job too. I could make a to-do list that was 3 pages long so I had an excuse to sit in my home office and just crank out work instead of seeing the people I loved. It was a relief for a while and somehow I managed, but it dug me deeper and deeper into solitary confinement. I became completely addicted to Solitaire, and told myself it was my ‘mindfulness time’, when really it was a mindless coping skill. I could finish a game in less than a minute, and got to level 850. I coped by mindlessly scrolling through Instagram videos…quietly and unknowingly feeling mournful and less-than. Oh, did I mention the wine? I’m not really proud of it, but I was self-medicating to numb the way I felt. It was a pretty dark place and I desperately wanted out, but couldn’t see what was right in front of me.

Sign 3: You ‘just can’t’ do your normal tasks

Over time, I looked around -really looked-and saw my giant unsorted sock pile, a desk piled with months of work, a car that hadn’t been washed in ages, and I lost my zest for cooking meals for my family. I would get dressed just enough for a zoom call, maybe a nice blouse with the same pair of sweats on nearly every day. I would work 12 hours a day, staring at that damn one-dimensional group of faces on the zoom screen, of people I’ve never met in person. Walking my dog became a nearly unbearable chore, with underlying anxiety that I might see a human on the trail. I started to go really early in the morning to ensure I would be alone, and if I did see someone we would both step off the trail and mask up, a habit that became as natural as putting on a seat belt. I used to use cooking as a creative outlet, but it became a chore that could easily be remedied with a food delivery…because I was too busy, right? I stopped painting, I stopped writing, I stopped laughing, I stopped doing the things that brought me such joy at one time.

Sign 4: You feel like your battery is drained

I was an avid runner and triathlete, with a wall full of plaques and ribbons, and a healthy habit of getting my sweat on nearly every day. Fast forward to dragging my ass out to shuffle through my dog walk in my rainboots, and watched my muscles atrophy and a flabby belly replace my abs. I got the original Covid-19 as an x-mas gift at the end of 2020. While it wasn’t life threatening, I developed blood clots and struggled for the next year to begin to feel better. It was scary, and it exacerbated my anthrophobia. I blamed that for the way I felt. It was a high functioning depression. My partner kept asking me what was going on, and I didn’t know. I had no reason to be unhappy. I had a job I loved, a man I loved, a fabulous kid, an adorable puppy, I had enough money, and new degree, and truly everything that I had ever wanted in life. I should be happy, but I was miserable.

Sign 5: Your automatic thoughts take over

I became a professional mind-reader since we lost the ability to recognize expression. I assumed the worst, and maximized everything, focusing on the worst case scenario. I could focus for hours on those scenarios and my mind couldn’t even tell that it hadn’t actually happened. I minimized my achievements, and everything was black or white, all or nothing.

Sign 6: You have FOMO, and the opposite of FOMO at the same time

This is true cognitive dissonance, wanting to be part of something but not wanting to be part of something at the same time. A group of my friends accidentally put me on a group text about their upcoming Mexico trip. I chimed in ‘I didn’t know’, and mind-read their reactions into the worst case scenario...they don’t like me. There’s that FOMO. I’m sure they had feeling of ‘oh crap’ how do we explain that we didn’t invite her? Then quickly started a new group chat without me. They explained they only had so many beds, blah blah. The truth is that they quit inviting me because they knew I wouldn’t go. They were tired of it. Nope, just too busy, so much to do, gotta be here for the pup and kid, work, work, work an absolute NO, no, no. That was a lie I got really good at telling myself to avoid people.

RECOVERY

The first step in my recovery was awareness. Putting my finger on exactly what was hurting. This podcast by Lori Gottlieb and Arthur Brooks absolutely changed my world (Listen Here). I listened to it over and over. It felt like a Nobel-prize winning discovery. We need human connection, and we cannot underestimate the power of that. I dusted off the coping skills program that I had been trained in right before the pandemic, with the intention of teaching our youth these magical tools. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy is changing your thoughts, which impacts your feelings, which impacts your behavior and this was the backbone of the class. I schooled myself in it like I was my own therapist. The art of reframing things and leaning into fear causes your comfort zone to expand. My comfort zone had become the size of a blueberry, and I had to step out of it. Strangely, one of the best gifts I got was getting Covid-19 again. It wasn’t a bad case, and I decided to approach it with gratitude. I had antibodies jolting my system and I couldn’t logically be afraid anymore. I practiced CBT daily, reframing everything into a positive light. I was ready to live a new story, and make it a great one. I was going for it — saying yes, yes, yes and leaning in to society. Over several weeks, I gleefully went to concerts, plays, parties, meetings, conferences and this time I soaked in the energy…I could literally feel myself re-charging. I was laughing, I was fun again, I was myself again. I started a couch to 5k running program, and just signed up for a triathlon and my body started responding. My calf muscle turned from a bag of goulash to at least the texture of a pounded chicken breast. I still have a long way to go, but it feels good to be on the right path. This week alone, I said yes to going wakeboarding with friends and felt elated, I am headed to a bbq tonight and truly looking forward to it, I am scheduling happy hours with friends, meeting people for lunch, having a picnic, and flying off to visit my long-lost friends across the country. I’ll probably make some new friends at Costco. I’m hoping my BFF will start her recovery soon, and I’m making plans to see my mommy. The gut-laughter is back, my sparkle has returned, my self-care is on point, and I feel a genuine constant state of happiness.

Does any of this resonate with you? I’m guessing it will for a lot of people, and I’m hoping that I can share my story to help spread a little hope. It’s not easy to pull out of the spiral that so many of us have found ourselves in, but take it from me — it is worth the effort. I want this for you.

Barbie Collins Young is the Executive Director of NAMI Eastside (National Alliance of Mental Illness). She is an educator for Youth Mental Health First Aid, and Cope2Thrive. She is a founding member of Balance in Mind, focused on educating parents about mental health. She’s still busy, but not too busy for some fun — invite her!