My Covid-era confidence crisis: how to regain your sense of self, hope and happiness

It’s hard for me to pinpoint the moment during the pandemic where I felt as if something in me had changed, maybe for good. But I think it was on my birthday, so that would have been in July 2020. This particular birthday fell at a time when you couldn’t really see people, but the shops were open. This was the time of banana bread recipes, the 2-metre rule and Thank You Baked Potato.

Anyway, I went especially to a balloon shop, all masked-up and ready for battle, and bought a load of massive helium balloons shaped like drinks, thinking: “I will not be defeated by this joyless apocalypse.” And yet, on this birthday, the inflated margaritas brought no joy whatsoever. They just hung in the air, accusingly. Party balloons for a nonexistent party. I felt stupid and desperate. I knew this wasn’t depression, anxiety or long Covid. It was my confidence. It had deserted me.

Initially, this was anathema to me. I thrive on being around other people and, as much as I love my immediate family, I crave the interactions and unpredictability of being out and about in the world. The pandemic felt to me like being in prison, only you were not allowed to talk to or stand near any prisoners you were not related to. I started swimming outdoors just to meet people. In the early days, fellow swimmers – quite rightly – wanted to make sure we swam 2 metres apart at all times. I complied, and felt more parts of me die. I couldn’t wait for it to be over, whatever “over” meant.

Even as we have emerged from all this, I am still amazed to find myself hesitating over accepting invitations, making travel plans, sometimes even leaving the house. The “old me” forces me to overcome the doubt and be my pre-Covid, outgoing self. But the Covidera me is still hanging around, biting her fingernails, glancing nervously and resentfully at the deflating helium balloons.

If there is a hierarchy of suffering, then certainly extroverts turned party poopers should stay at home with their newly found tiniest little violin. But still. There is an unspoken reckoning that we are not having. What has this time done to our sense of self and our confidence generally?

Of course, for many, the effects