The woman, 22, still has mental health issues caused by the pandemic

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

The celebrations were stunted. Excitement was replaced by intense fear for our lives, health and future. Gen Z suffered. I suffered. And I didn’t know how to pull myself together.

It’s been five years since the pandemic began, and the anxiety that plagued me during that first year has haunted me for the rest of my life.

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

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

I felt so isolated. My school friends were not allowed to see me. There was a curfew in New York City, where I live, and there were no coffee shops or restaurants where we could meet. My parents wouldn’t let me go out except for the grocery store. We retreated to our home on Long Island to separate further.

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

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

My anxiety manifested as other physical symptoms: shortness of breath, 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 on, I couldn’t shake the thought that I too would reach a point where I could hurt myself like she did.

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

I spent months just going through the motions of my daily routine. Anxiety took the color out of my life and I couldn’t have fun without being drowned in intrusive thoughts. I didn’t know myself anymore.

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

We went through exposure therapy to desensitize me to my intrusive thoughts, which included everything from looking at a picture of a razor to closing my eyes and visualizing the thought in vivid detail.

I struggled for about six months before turning the corner. Once I started to expect anxiety and intrusive thoughts, I wasn’t so afraid 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 between the ages of 18 and 24 suffer from anxiety. Adulthood is hard enough—we go to college, start dating, and spend hours on LinkedIn looking for jobs. The anxiety that Gen Z has faced as a direct result of the pandemic is not fair.

I believe my anxiety and OCD would have eventually manifested in one way or another, but I’m sure the loneliness brought on 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 left to live.

The impact of the pandemic on my mental health resonates 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 soothe myself after exposure therapy still sits on the nightstand.

I’ve been gone five years at this point, and the anxiety is still great.

To date, I have never had a prom or high school graduation. These are big milestones and the fact that they are forever missing from my life has left a scar.

I’m not the only one at my age who still feels the impact. One of my friends used to be a theater kid, but has been much softer since the pandemic. Another gets claustrophobic at parties and sometimes has to leave – this never happened.

The challenges I face now as a 22-year-old seem small compared to the pain I endured as an 18-year-old.

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 restless, General Z has transformed into a warrior class.

Carrie Berk’s new book, Mindfire: Diary of a Troubled Twenty-Year-Oldis available for pre-order now Amazon AND Barnes & Noble. Officially released on May 13, 2025.