A Traumatised Generation: Part One
December 26, 2021
I don’t know who said it first, but someone once said, ‘don’t write from your wounds, write from your scars.’
The pandemic is a wound, and yet it is near impossible to avoid writing or thinking about it. So, in these frankly ridiculous times where we are all waiting in a NOT FUN way to see if this January will be quite as bleak as last January, I wanted to offer some reflections on the ways that the last 19 months has traumatised those in their late teens and twenties (an age category I fit into) and hopefully offer some clarity as to why we are feeling the way we feel and behaving the way we are, and how we might get back (move forward?) to being more us.
Perhaps it sounds dramatic to use the word ‘traumatised’.
There are four notable types of traumas:
Acute: a single stressful or dangerous event
Chronic: repeated exposure to highly stressful events
Complex: exposure to multiple traumatic events
Secondary/Vicarious: trauma symptoms developed from close contact with someone who has experienced a traumatic event.)
I wonder if the pandemic has been a Complex Trauma, with symptoms including denial, anger, fear, sadness, confusion, anxiety, depression, numbness, hopelessness, irritability, difficulty concentrating, headaches, fatigue, feeling jumpy or having a racing heart.
I am trying to identify ways in which the pandemic has traumatised not only the individual but the generation and will write about them as I think about them. First up, I think we all have commitment issues…
Commitment Issues and the ‘Better Option’ Mentality
The cracks began to show around the summer of 2020. A generation was emerging from the first 6 months of the global pandemic changed in so many ways, but that wasn’t the end of it and over the next 12 months those changes took root. After the third lockdown in the UK, arguably the worst one (the longest, the coldest, the darkest) many people I know went into summer with varying degrees of anxiety, depression, stress, apathy, addiction, and reckless attitudes.
One thing which I noticed had managed to weave its way into so many aspects of life was the fear of, and physical repulsion to, commitment. Committing to plans, to people, to relationships, to ambitions, to ideas. We now seem to be so scared, consciously, or not, of the rug being pulled out from underneath us that we seem to struggle to commit to things. Fair enough to be honest.
There was already an aversion to commitment in our generation that I reckon we developed from the following things:
- In the last 50 years, a third of marriages have ended in divorce. That means we grew up watching marriages fail, relationships break down, and a lot of people now live daily with the ramifications of that.
- We are told by dating apps and social media that “there is more out there… more options, better options, don’t settle!”. We are overwhelmed by the very best of the best-looking people who have seemingly fantastically interesting lives and we subconsciously believe that we deserve the very best option, so we mustn’t settle. (We also compare ourselves WAY too much but that’s a whole other conversation.)
- This better option mentality means that we, as a generation, have a habit of dropping plans last minute in favour of more interesting ones, or staying in the ‘talking’ phase as long as possible with someone so that it’s easier to maintain a friendship or ghost them should a better option come along. Any of this sound familiar? Is this why I expect people to cancel on me minutes before an event, and why I know I have done the same? Is this why I fear people just dropping out of my life?
Our commitment phobia was amplified because of the pandemic. We had made commitments, to degrees, relationships, jobs, locations, lifestyles and independence and they vanished without warning, leaving no trace. People weren’t allowed to process, grieve, or find closure in things that ended or were taken away. It was brutal.
After the first lockdown had lifted in the UK I started to hear phrases like,
“I can’t do that again.”
“We had to make a decision, it felt rushed and forced. It shouldn’t have ended like it did.”
“I’m still in love with them.”
“There’s no way to find closure.”
“It was out of my hands. I had no choice. I had to let it go.”
Experts say it is particularly difficult, and often inadvisable, to process and heal from a trauma whilst that trauma is ongoing, but perhaps small shifts in mindset could help us at this time to reduce feeling out of control and in limbo (between pre-Covid and post-Covid times) and give us a little more of ourselves back.
We can rationalise not committing by saying we are holding out for a better option, but we know the grass is not always greener.
We should all know that by now. All that leaves us with is an empty feeling, dissatisfaction, and relationships that only skim the surface and don’t leave us vulnerable to the power of true and deep connection. It also disrespects the people and things in our lives, like our dreams and ambitions, which we ought to be giving our full attention and commitment to if we really care about them. That’s how humans were designed. I’d like to challenge my commitment phobia, ‘better option’ mentality and lack of enthusiasm to make plans and stick to them (Covid is sometimes the best and easiest excuse…) and instead really, wholeheartedly commit to people, ideas and projects.
For those who had to fast forward a relationship because of the pandemic, or had to end one without closure, the thought of anything new and serious might be terrifying. Challenging your commitment phobia doesn’t mean that you move in with your partner when it feels too soon, it means you communicate well and maybe you introduce them to your friends. It doesn’t mean committing fully and rashly to a project when you don’t have the resources or capacity, it means you draw up a timeline for what needs to happen and you set achievable goals. If you have said you will go to a party and then realise your crush won’t be there, you should still go. You might meet someone else! You might have fantastic fun because you’re not trying to impress anyone, or it might be really dull, and you politely make excuses after a while and leave early. At least you showed up.
At least, in all those situations, you communicated to anyone watching that you cared, and you valued that person, that dream or passion.
Things aren’t easy, they don’t come simply, but you might just have the greenest grass right in front of you. The rug might not be pulled out from under you. You’ll never know if you don’t make some kind of commitment, and if you don’t give the people you care about and the things that you care about the respect and love that they deserve.
Yes, you might get hurt, heartbroken, disappointed. Things might fail through no fault of your own. But I know I would rather have tried, sweated, cried, loved, and learned, than to always ask ‘what if’ and keep scrolling and swiping to numb the emptiness.
I’d rather live life fully, as it was intended, than let the pandemic twist my reality, and leave me fearful and apathetic, so I never experience the full potential of what living can, and should, feel like.
End note: Living life fully also means dealing with traumas and illness kindly, patiently, and sometimes with help from professionals. You don’t ignore a broken foot, so don’t ever ignore any element of your mental health. You are precious and deserve love and care so that you can reach your unique potential and experience joy, love, and adventure.