It is generally agreed that the ‘COVID times’ sucked.
But recently, there’s been a shift in discussion.
People have begun talking about secretly missing the lockdowns — and in some respects, I get it.
It was the first time I had hobbies because, for once, I just had the time.
I hung out with my family a lot, I went on walks, I called my friends and enjoyed new movies and media.
However, in literally every other respect, it sucked. So bad.
I missed my friends; I missed my teen years.
I felt caged in. Every day, I woke up hoping it would be the last of lockdown.
I cried all the time, I was overwhelmed and chronically frustrated.
But even with that, I still find myself romanticising those two years.
Why?
Well, I have a theory.
The COVID years (I know that it is still around, but I’m just sick of saying lockdowns) were deeply traumatic.
Whether you had COVID, lost someone to it or were impacted in any way, it was a scary time.
Being scared or traumatised can take a heavy toll, and I think we look back with rose-coloured glasses because remembering how it really was is hard.
It’s hard to remember the pain and anxiety, hard to believe it actually happened.
It’s self-defence of a kind.
My brain is going, “That was bad. I don’t want to think about that. Bad feelings are, well, bad. Let’s remember the good. The good is much better than thinking about the bad.”
It’s a defence mechanism, but it can come across as belittling the genuine trauma people went through.
It feels wrong to see posts such as, “I miss COVID”.
It’s not just COVID we romanticise, however.
We all know the phrase “I was born in the wrong generation”.
People say it because they only know the good parts of the decades, discounting the hardships.
The most common one I hear cited is the 1980s.
People love the outfits and the music, but they forget about the thriving homophobia and transphobia and the AIDS epidemic.
It’s not just the ’80s; it’s every decade, each having its own positives and negatives.
But why think about that when the outfits were colourful, and the music was so banging?
I’m not saying you have to be cynical and hate everything.
It’s just the first time that something horrific that I’ve lived through has been romanticised and remembered as better than it was.
I’m not perfect, so, for self-preservation, my rose-coloured glasses will stay on.
Firmly on.
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