First Draft Submission - Withdrawal Symptoms (09/08)

In Retrospect 12

This post was originally titled "[ESSAY] #11: FIRST DRAFT (SUBMISSION) - Withdrawal Symptoms". The submission was due on Monday morning, 9am (10/08/20).

Not much to say here. It's the First Draft Submission, incorporating the Research I had conducted the day prior and fixing up the Friday draft.

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At first, I found the humourous irony in the situation. After several jobless months at home, I attended a fortnight of classes on campus before being sent back to square one - my floor desk in the living room. I approached the university semester with zest however, checking in with my friends to keep their spirits up. Promises of “it’ll all be over soon!” kept us going strong, and “I miss you” wasn’t as depressing as it would be months later. I hoped this coronavirus, something I joked about to my sister (“He came back from overseas and is trying to force you into a date? Tell him you’re scared he has Corona.”) to blow over like Ebola did a few years ago. At least, that’s how it seemed from the perspective of someone living in a first world country. The first half of the semester went by smoothly - I got most of my assignments done on time. It felt just as normal, but what I didn’t consider about how my mental health was going to be affected by the successive lockdowns.

Humans are naturally social creatures who are used to routine. We all require social connection, whether it be from family, friends, or more intimate relationships. If you just want to be around people, a pub is your best bet. But what happens when our social needs aren’t met by our current relationships? A suffocating emptiness called loneliness. It’s important to note that loneliness doesn’t just occur when one is all by themselves, it can even happen when amongst other people. It’s also rather common, affecting 1 in 3 adults. Thanks to COVID-19, research has seen this number jump to at least 1 in 2 (footnote 1) (footnote 2) (Blogger formatting won't let me do this correctly).

1 in 2. That’s you and me.

Loneliness isn’t just a social issue - it’s a health one too. What are its long term effects? Increased cholesterol levels and blood pressure. A higher risk in developing cardiovascular disease. A loss in brain function. And the final nail in the coffin, ramping up the severity of mental health symptoms. Keep those last two in mind.

Prior to lockdown, I was up and about, arriving to classes an hour early, spending free time studying, eating and socialising with my friends, walking around. But now, I was moving less than 100 metres in a day. I decided that because I was no longer travelling and jobless, every minute should be dedicated to studying and completing assignments. This snowballed into an unhealthy mindset and caused me more grief than productivity in the future. Upon reflecting on it, it’s funny how individuals can make such horrible decisions and not recognise it, hey? But I can’t say that like I’ve fully escaped, because I haven’t. Trying to fend off the exponentially increasing weight of mental burn out, I started to feel more guilty I was achieving less and less in my days. It became a self-deprecating cycle. So you can imagine how the second half of the semester went.

There’s an academic calendar taped to my closet door beside my bed. I only started to use it properly when lockdown began, jotting down my daily agendas and assignments to keep focused. The small, purple text promoting free lunches and breakfasts hid behind hopeless black marker. It loomed over my bed like an academic guillotine of deadlines. Sweet dreams. It started becoming more of a migraine when I drew arrows signifying full week-long extensions to strategically space out my final assignments due in rapid succession.

Don’t even start me on the skin-crawly feeling touch deprivation brings. Do you know how fruitless it is to put a jacket over what seems like goose bumps all over your skin, only for it not to go away? To scratch an itch that isn’t there, make an itch in the process and gaslight yourself to keep scratching? To hug a pillow and feel nothing?

Of course you have. Why did I make it out like we definitely weren’t in the same situation?

According to neurologist Dr Katalin Gothard, “Social touch stimulates the release of opioids and oxytocin in the brain”. The effect of endogenous opioids is similar to taking opioid drugs. So, a lot of us are experiencing withdrawal symptoms from a drug called physical affection. While some affection-deprived people already have coping skills to deal with this situation, the majority of us do not.

In May, my younger sister, whom I’ll call K, was able to return to high school for face-to-face learning. After her school days, she would usually go on walks to see her boyfriend. While I was glad for the time alone, opening up incognito tabs on my phone, I soon got jealous. My boyfriend, N, lives up in Queensland. We only get to see each other once a year, in December. Not having the time amidst my school work to hang out with my friends, yet with my envy intact, I spent more time than I should have just seething.

During my final assignments in late May, I started to believe all my studying was fruitless. Aside from motherly hugs, which gradually felt like… nothing, all I had were texts from the extremely few friends I chose to inform of my grades. I became more excited to message N and a close male friend-turned-crush G (with N’s knowledge) throughout my days rather than struggling with those last assessment tasks.

G is a calm, patient guy who had a better run of isolation than I did, given he went on frequent walks and stuck to a consistent sleep schedule. His brother fended off any loneliness by nagging G to play video games together. He still however, longed for other peoples’ presence and had grown a little more irritable since lockdown began.

Come June, G and I are desperate to see each other. He informs me he has a free week before his exams begin and offers a chance to meet up. I quickly decline, due to my assignments and since I feel I don’t deserve this “reward” due to my slipping work ethic. Capitalism’s really screwed us over with that “work hard, play later” motto, huh? I thought it would be more righteous to punish myself and use this meet up as a goal, even if that wouldn’t have helped motivate me in the slightest. N was concerned about my crashing and burning mental state. He saw how tempted I was by G’s offer, judging by how much I fantasised about it to him. But I wouldn’t take N’s suggestion. I told him to order me to do it. Like I needed assertion from an authority figure to override my terrible mindset. He did just that, and finally, I gave in.

We went out on June 3rd, during Victoria’s lowest transmission rate. The nationwide lockdown was over, but I remained acutely aware of the social distancing guidelines. We met at Melbourne Central, and as I stepped through the ticket gates, our gazes connected. A hot, flustered wave rushed through my body as he drew close, dangerously close, expecting a hug. My instincts told me to oblige but I reluctantly stood my ground.

We stepped into Coles for some dental floss I needed to buy. The narrow aisles and need to socially distance from others kept him right on my heels, so tantalisingly close. My body started to hunger for his touch, every inch of skin going haywire for the ration of emotional touch it had been craving from someone of the opposite sex. The suppressing paranoia of people watching us subdued it for the time being. Had I been shorter and kept isolated for a couple years longer, I might have turned into a Gollum where my “precious” was physical affection.

We soon left and rode the escalators up to Milligram, a deluxe stationery store. But, it was closed. We decided to head for a destination I had been excited to see - Club X, an adult store. Despite my normal paranoia about being seen in public with a guy a family member might mistake for my boyfriend, and modesty surrounding anything indecent, being cooped up for months had led me to be more daring. Whether that’s a “positive” effect of being in lockdown is yet to be determined. But as we began to walk, I noticed there were few people around. Suddenly, my body leapt at the opportunity. I asked for a hug, and he accepted.

As I reached out to embrace him, I knew it was wrong to see this guy friend, despite being one I was crushing on (with N’s knowledge) as a momentary substitute for my boyfriend so far away. G wasn’t simply a replacement, and he wasn’t primarily into women anyway. It was wrong to mentally use him as my “boyfriend for a day”. But the moment I felt his arms wrap around me, his warm hug the perfect pressure, my walls broke down. All my body could do was demand for more. Squeezing him provided only temporary relief. And then, we let go.

Visiting Club X didn’t help alleviate those romantic feelings. Wandering around examining everything in the store only pushed my body’s desires into a lustful state. Still, we had plenty of fun there and during the rest of our journey throughout the city, stopping at other, more mundane shops such as Lush, Officeworks and Chemist Warehouse. We accustomed ourselves with hand-sanitising stations located several feet into an entranceway. In Dymocks, I made him try on a blue apron and snapped away. I supposed from a distance we looked like a couple. Probably born out of envy of K’s outings with her boyfriend, I playfully flirted with G the whole day. Any guilt I had was squashed by my happiness and eagerness to do more, say more, and touch more.

Following June 3rd, I felt invincible. I told N I was “socially recharged”, and I was able to barrel through my final assignments. I arranged another meet up with G in his home suburb on June 26th, but I had to cancel it, due to the newly rising Victorian transmission rate. It sat at about 40 on that day. It looked like other people had the same idea as G and I, most likely on a bigger scale, considering the astronomical hundreds later on.

On June 30th, my suburb was among the 10 that went into lockdown. On July 9th, the rest of Metropolitan Melbourne and Mitchell Shire joined us. Not much happened in July, but come August 2nd, a state of disaster was declared in Victoria. Stage 4 lockdown for 6 weeks. Just a bit into that… is where this essay is coming to you from.

I’m not entirely sure what to say now. I’ve completed the first week of stage 4 lockdown, at least. I’m doing a little better in terms of my studies, a few weeks into the second semester, but I’m so worn out from being cooped up once again. Some walks might help alleviate that but I’m secretly proud of my stay-at-home record. Which, is pitiful, and I realise, not something to actually brag about.

I don’t think my core personality has changed, as narcissistic as I might perhaps sound. I think a part of it managed to come out on the quasi-date with G - kind, enthusiastic, dedicated. But I feel like a flawed, exhausted version of myself from a year ago. I don’t know if I’ve matured as a human being, but certainly as someone who has struggled in this social isolation. My heart pours out to my classmates, who discuss in class how hard it is to find motivation in their studies too. 

What kinds of withdrawal symptoms have you undergone, dear reader? Were you someone who put on a jacket to cure the touch starvation crawling all over your skin? Someone who regretted how painfully short each hug in their life ever was? Or maybe you were someone who spent a bit more time than they should have, fantasising about human touch whilst lying in bed. But was it the emptiness or the coolness of the pillow that broke your fantasies?

Heh. Well, it’s been a one-way conversation, but allow me in these times to extend a hug, from me to you. Bring the book up to your chest now - in tablet, laptop, whatever form - and hug it. Squeeze it, knowing I’ve filled these words with as much empathy as I can. Savour this moment of artificial affection.

May we all get better rations soon enough.

 

Footnotes:
1. Swinburne University’s yet to be published study surveyed 2,666 people from around the world for their first wave, and found that 1 in 2 Australians report feeling more lonely since COVID-19.
2. Associate Professor Jilly Newby at the Black Dog Institute found that over 50% of people reported feeling lonely during the pandemic out of 5,070 participants.