COVID: 19 - In the Wake of a Global Existential Crisis
And failed opportunity at collective healing for humanity...
In the early days of COVID-19, we stood on our porches clapping for healthcare workers. We wrote chalk messages of love to teachers. We told ourselves this global pause was a moment to breathe, to reevaluate, to dream something better into being.
But instead of healing, we hoarded. We isolated. We became more divided.
Instead of slowing down, we panic-bought toilet paper and poured our savings into Dogecoin. Billionaires launched themselves into orbit, because apparently Earth just wasn’t premium enough. We didn't build a new world; we turbocharged the old one.
And now? Teachers are quitting in droves. Nurses are burned out and broken. Doctors who once fought to save lives are now defending themselves against death threats and Facebook comments like, “Do your own research, sheeple.”
Let’s not kid ourselves. COVID-19 wasn’t just a virus. It was a mirror. And when the human species looked into it, what did we see? Our fragility, sure…but also our refusal to change even when everything was screaming at us to do so.
We were handed the rarest of gifts in the modern world: a collective existential crisis. A shared moment where everything stopped on a global scale, and the veil lifted on the systems that grind us down. For a hot second, we glimpsed what life could be like with less commuting, more neighborliness, cleaner skies, mutual aid, and more time with the people we love.
But systems don’t change themselves. People do.
And people—-under capitalism, under disinformation, under centuries of rugged individualism—-defaulted to the path of least introspection. We didn’t reimagine society. We rebranded hustle culture as “resilience” and slapped some ring lights on Zoom.
Meanwhile, Jeff Bezos’ wealth increased by a cool $70 billion, as he thanked Amazon workers from space.
Education: We Sent the Kids Back to the Grind
Let’s not forget the kids. If adults were fraying at the seams during the pandemic, children were unraveling. From 2019 to 2021, rates of anxiety and depression among children doubled (JAMA Pediatrics). Remote learning left many isolated, behind academically, and struggling to process collective trauma without the emotional scaffolding they needed.
And what did we do when they returned to school?
Did we meet them with healing circles, emotional support, and play?
Nope. We handed them standardized tests and told them to make up for lost time.
In some states, education budgets were reallocated away from counseling services and mental health resources to boost “learning recovery” via high-stakes testing. According to the National Center for Education Statistics, 70% of public schools reported an increase in students seeking mental health services in 2022, but fewer than half of those schools felt adequately equipped to meet those needs.
We treated their mental health like a temporary glitch, not a symptom of a larger sickness. We didn’t give them space to breathe. We gave them performance metrics. Because somewhere along the way, even childhood became part of the grind.
Healthcare: Heroes Burned at Both Ends
Early in the pandemic, people were baking sourdough and calling nurses “heroes.” Now, those same “heroes” are navigating vaccine conspiracy theories from patients who think microchips are a public health threat but trust ivermectin they got from a feed store.
Burnout isn’t just high, it’s structural. A 2023 AMA report showed that over 60% of physicians experienced symptoms of burnout, particularly among primary care and emergency clinicians. And despite endless corporate wellness webinars and token gift cards, providers feel more squeezed than ever.
Why? Because healthcare systems never really recovered. And instead of reinvesting in patient care or provider support, many corporate systems doubled down on productivity targets. Even in the wake of moral injury, staff shortages, and mass resignations, the demand for efficiency continues to outpace the capacity for healing.
In short: the people we rely on to care for us have not been cared for.
The Great Wealth Transfer
While the middle and lower classes grieved, billionaires profited enormously. Between March 2020 and October 2021, American billionaires grew their collective wealth by $2.1 trillion, a 70% increase (Inequality.org). At the same time, over 8 million Americans fell below the poverty line.
The wealth gap didn’t just widen. It turned into a canyon.
And it wasn’t just money. Power consolidated. Corporations like Blackstone and Zillow bought up residential properties en masse, making it even harder for young and working-class Americans to buy a home. One in seven homes sold in the U.S. in 2021 went to investors, not families (Washington Post).
Wealth became shelter. Shelter became an asset. And the rest of us? Rent-burdened, burned out, and bouncing between side hustles and GoFundMe pages.
A Final Reflection
COVID-19 exposed that the systems we live under will not bend toward compassion unless we force them to. Healing isn’t just about self-care and spa days. It’s about collective memory. About telling the truth. About resisting the urge to forget just because it’s uncomfortable.
We had a chance to ask: What matters? What kind of society do we want to live in? How do we care for each other?
But instead of letting those questions guide us, we doubled down on the old gods: profit, productivity, individualism.
The good news? The mirror’s still here. The cracks in the system are still visible. And people are still waking up, one disillusionment at a time.
We can still choose healing. We can still build something better.
But first, we have to admit that we blew our first shot.