Although New Zealand has emerged from the first year of the global pandemic relatively unscathed, psychologists and counsellors have reported record numbers of Kiwis seeking therapy. Some of the longer-lasting scars of the pandemic may be invisible, writes Matthew Scott.
Lucia* had just over a month in Paris before the virus reared its head.
The 24-year-old Kiwi had plans to work and travel in Europe over the next year, but as the infection rate on that side of the world climbed, she made the choice to pack it in and come home.
A spring travelling around the continent was unceremoniously traded in for an autumn stuck in her childhood home.
“I was nervous to get out of Europe,” she says, “so getting home was a big relief”. She watched from afar as the death rate back in France edged higher and higher, while we remained relatively unscratched.
But a few weeks into lockdown, the sense of relief faded and was replaced by daily anxiety.
“The news wasn’t getting any better, it was just getting worse,” she says.
She started to feel negative thoughts that were both relentless and obsessive.
The anxiety made her lethargic and unmotivated, which quelled her desire to do anything, which in turn made her feel worse.
“I decided to go and talk to someone.”
But so many of our five million had the same idea. The first four psychologists she spoke to were fully booked.
Eventually, a therapist was able to promise Lucia her next available spot - four weeks away.
It was mid-winter by the time Lucia got to speak to somebody, months after she started to feel her anxiety was disrupting her life.
Almost a year after the pandemic hit, mental health services are still rammed, and, with lockdowns and the accompanying sense of instability continuing to pop up out of the blue, psychologists can’t predict when it will become more manageable.
The numbers show that lockdown wasn’t easy for many Kiwis.
A survey conducted by Victoria University of Wellington during our first stint at Level 4 found the amount of people who were lonely most or all of the time had increased to 10.6 percent from 3.5 percent in 2018.
A study published in November showed 30 percent of respondents asked during lockdown reported moderate to severe psychological distress, while 39 percent of those asked reported low wellbeing.
And some believe that the psychological effects of the lockdown only started to really show a few months down the line.
“It was around August or September when the first lockdown really started to bite,” says Auckland-based psychotherapist Jay Morris.
He has never seen it so busy.
“Things were getting quite difficult for people, and it hasn’t really stopped.”
Morris and his colleagues have noticed how hard it has become to fit a new client in.
“Normally when you get a referral and you can’t see someone, it’s reasonably possible to find someone else to see them. But these days, no one in our circles has space.”
Dr Sarb Johal specialises in public mental health and advised the government after disasters such as the Canterbury earthquakes and the Christchurch mosque shootings.
He sees this 'lag' as the commonly reported experience of people who have gone through disasters.
“We saw this with the earthquakes - a lot of people came forward for help for the first time in years two, three, four or five. People can often get through the first bit okay if their basic needs are being met, but over time that adaptive capacity can get worn away.”
He likens the destabilising potential for further unheralded lockdowns to the aftershocks felt in the years after the deadly 2011 quake.
“Lots of people had to reset and start again after unpredictable major aftershocks. Now we have leaks at the border, which might be roughly equivalent.”
Psychotherapist Tomislav Skulic has also seen a huge upswing in demand for his services.
“Last year it was overflowing, and this year it’s still busy,” he says.
“Normally in January people are slow to come back after the summer break. But this year I returned to a full caseload.”
Skulic sees a positive side to this increased demand.
“During lockdown, people had more time to reflect on their lives,” he says.
“If somebody had something they had been needing to address for years, the space and time may have been good for that.”
Johal has also noted the potential for positive change from his work in disaster relief.
“People often emerge from crises like this and say what do I need to change? Some people find a new way of being in the world.”
Some Cantabrians found themselves connecting more with their families and communities after the earthquakes.
Perhaps something similar can be gained from Covid-19?
In the November study on the lockdown experience of New Zealanders, 62 percent of respondents found ‘silver linings’ in the lockdown, such as working from home and the chance to spend more quality time with family.
This paints the uncertainty of the pandemic in a more positive light - a learning opportunity, the chance for growth.
An upside in the land of the long white cloud.
Almost a year on from seeking treatment, Lucia’s anxiety is much more manageable.
“It gave me a place to verbalise things and give them clarity, which also normalises how I felt,” she says. “I was able to learn coping mechanisms that I used in the latest lockdown - like getting out of the house for a long walk or starting a jigsaw puzzle.”
Simple things, but they made the difference.
“I was able to do what I could.”
But while some Kiwis feel stability returning with talks of vaccination and pandemic life becoming less unfamiliar, there is still a long road ahead for ensuring access to mental health services in this country.
“We will continue to feel the waves of it,” says Jay Morris. “The impact of last year on people’s mental health won’t just go away.”
Johal sees this as the moment to examine how we deal with provision of mental health services.
“We need to prepare for the exit from this phase of the pandemic to whatever happens next,” he says. “This means looking at how we support those people who have fewer opportunities now, not just economically, but from a wellbeing point of view.”
Although access to psychologists is important for acute and chronic conditions, he thinks a new approach is called for when it comes to helping people with mild to moderate issues.
“A good system of counsellors trained to the same standard would have better reach and be able to work at a primary care level,” he says.
This is a slow process, he acknowledges. “The big roadblock at the moment is the workforce issue.”
Management of the virus will play a big part in providing a balm to people’s anxieties, Skulic argues.
“It’s like a job interview,” he says. “If you go in with no idea what you are going to be asked, you may be anxious. If you have some idea of what’s going to happen, anxiety levels will be lower.”
Right now, the whole country is sharing butterflies in our stomachs.
“It operates the same on the level of society - if we have some foreseeable management of Covid, it’s like being prepared for the interview.
“People can relax a bit more and go on with their lives.”
Let’s hope we get the job.
*Name changed
