Personal Lockdown Stories Of The Hurdles I Faced In Lockdown
Diagnosed with autoimmune hepatitis shortly before COVID-19 reached the United States, Sophia entered the pandemic already isolated and immunosuppressed. Her account explores illness, job loss, grief, mental health, and the courage to keep choosing connection.
This is Sophia Morris. I would like to share something from this very difficult time. We all know that there is collective grief happening right now that can feel very heavy—because it is.
This grief and uncertainty come, in part, from the isolation that has become part of everyday life.
Being able to solve problems usually translates to being “good at being a person,” in my words.
Unfortunately, we have been taught that loss is intolerable. The idea of sitting with pain can feel like, “Oh my God! No, not that, please.” We immediately try to give our minds suggestions or ideas, and we ask many questions.
That may be helpful when someone loses a phone, but not when somebody’s life is falling apart. You cannot fix loss. You do not have to.
On March 15, 2020, in the United States, we were ordered to stay at home, and government operations and nonessential businesses were closed until March 30. It was an absolute nightmare for some people.
In addition, the COVID-19 pandemic created a severe threat to people’s well-being through depression, anxiety, and panic disorders. One of the worst parts was that anyone who tested positive for COVID-19 had to isolate away from family.
We all know that isolation can reduce the risk of spreading the virus, but loneliness can also contribute to mental-health problems such as depression.
Every day, I used to wake up in the morning and say, “We will get through this,” “This too shall pass,” and “We are not alone.”
In January 2020, I was diagnosed with autoimmune hepatitis, or AIH, in which the immune system attacks healthy liver cells. I was taking steroids along with immunosuppressants, so I was more vulnerable to infections.
My family was very concerned about me. They did not want me to come into contact with anyone who had been outside.
The official lockdown began in March, but I had already been isolating since January, before the coronavirus affected our lives so terribly. It was a roller coaster of emotions for me, and I knew it was only the beginning.
I learned that life is completely unpredictable. Anything can happen at any moment.
I am a flight attendant by profession, so the situation resulted in a complete loss for me. Because I was taking immunosuppressants, I was more vulnerable to infection.
Even though I was taking my medication on time and maintaining a good diet, I could not return to work because of COVID-19. My doctors told me that, because of my illness, I should not think about flying again at that time.
I was constantly afraid that something would go wrong in the future. I told myself that pessimistic thoughts were normal, but I also realized how deeply our words can affect our subconscious minds.
I resigned in April because there was no other option available to me.
Imagine having a job and then suddenly being unable to continue—not because of anything you did, but because of circumstances beyond your control.
Still, nothing lasts forever. Difficult experiences can make us stronger and wiser.
It is your choice whether to fill your subconscious mind with frustration, anger, and resentment toward your loved ones and your own life, or with love, care, and gentleness—especially love for your family.
It is easy to feel negative and allow those feelings to affect your peace of mind and your heart.
But I also feel that turning points in life may be important. They can help us discover what else we can do with our lives and with ourselves.
As long as we have our senses—even just one—we have the possibility of feeling human and connected.
What I experienced taught me that life can become about health, and healthcare can become about making life more wonderful rather than simply making it less horrible.
This is where care becomes a playful act, an expression of love, and a way of living. “Play” may sound like a funny word here, but it is also one of our highest forms of adaptation.
Consider every major effort involved in being human. The need for shelter gave rise to homes and architecture. In the same way, the need for food gave rise to cuisine and many different kinds of meals.
The most important thing we can do right now is care for one another and be there for one another.
The additional stress of having no work, no income, and the constant threat of coming into contact with the virus does not help. But this time will pass.
My mother always says, “If your good times have passed, your bad times will pass too. Just wait and remain in the moment.”
It is important to realize that you can still find a spark of beauty or meaning in the life you have. A call from someone you love can create warmth and reassure you that someone is checking to see whether you are okay.
Mental health is important. It is important to check on the people who mean something to you.
During these times, being your authentic self may help. We cannot hold ourselves to the same expectations we would during a normal week, because these are not normal weeks.
You have to be patient with yourself. Whatever may happen, all we can truly do is take each day as it comes, do the best we can, and follow social-distancing measures.
Choosing something difficult during an already difficult time is an act of courage. We should be prepared so that, even if the world ended today, we would not lose our vision, our hope for living, or our ability to give love.
One act of kindness can change the world.
Have you ever wondered what people who are close to depression may need most?
The answer is comfort—the ability to unburden yourself to those you love and find some sense of peace.
Talk as much as you can with people by phone or FaceTime. That is something within your control.
About This Story
Sophia shared this account after illness and the pandemic forced her to leave her work as a flight attendant. She reflects on isolation, uncertainty, mental health, family care, and the meaning found in small acts of connection.
Editorial Note
This story has been lightly edited for grammar, punctuation, clarity, and readability while preserving the contributor’s original meaning and voice. Dates and public-health details reflect the contributor’s recollection.