Escapism is More Vital than Ever — It’s All We’ve Got

A week ago, I wanted to watch an episode of Parks and Recreation while I ate dinner. So, I did - and then I watched fourteen, and then two seasons in a row. I needed comfort television more than I realized.

I felt good through most of last year. 2020 wasn't all that bad, as people say. The pandemic provided an opportunity to focus on things I never had enough time for before. I began to build a consistent writing habit, developing my craft, and publish regularly. I also watched an immense amount of TV shows and movies that's been sitting on my watchlist longer than I care to admit. I revisited favorites without a sense of procrastination weighing heavily on my shoulders. If you haven't used this suddenly arisen free time to do such things, you missed out.

But now, it's been a year, and something has changed. Our collective indoor vacation became mundane. It no longer holds that exciting, I-have-time-for-anything feeling it did throughout last year. The stuff we did for fun and relaxation before turned into a routine. The world spun upside down, and we got used to it so much that regular everyday life feels abnormal.

Now, we turn to escapism as our only haven. It's ironic since we already did that last year, but we need it because watching people live normal lives on-screen is the only way to connect with our pre-pandemic life. Workplace comedies help remind us of a time, a now distant memory, when we actually went to work, dined at a restaurant, or had a few drinks after a long day.

Lately, I am alone, which has never been a problem for me, but now the loneliness feels heavier. The lack of smiles, jokes, and familiar faces began to take a toll on me.

Revisiting old TV shows became a thing during the pandemic, and it's easy to understand why. We want to see our beloved characters, a community that brings us joy in hard times. But, it's not just the jokes we crave for - in fact, they are secondary. It's the human touch, the physical contact, and the vulnerability that give us comfort. Every sincere hug, silly smile, and kind gesture goes a long way to feel a little less alone.

Usually, I thrive on being apart from others, I'm an introvert, and I enjoy long silences more than most people. But lately, I started having dreams about my family, dead and alive, and I think it's a sign my subconscious is trying to send me. That something isn't right. Distant phone and video calls can no longer replace real-life interactions with the people I love. I miss seeing my mom smile, my dad crack a joke, or make my brother laugh. To have a few beers with friends while we make fun of the absurdity of life, the complications of relationships, or other topics I can only discuss with them.

I haven't seen the people close to me for over one year, and that doesn't seem likely to change for months to come.

And somehow, controversially, even the frequent virtual contact became harder to keep up. Every other check-in feels a little more forced since all of us are locked in our homes, and the lack of public events and gatherings leads to the same dull conversations all the time. The mundane weather reports, and whether we are healthy and still have jobs.

But this is our last resort, the only way to stay sane and balance our harboring mental health. So, even if you don't feel like it, even if you'll be saying the same things that are exhaustively boring, call your parents. Message your friends, bring up a nostalgic event, and make each other laugh.

Watch your favorite movies and TV shows, old classics, guilty pleasures, workplace comedies you've seen countless times and refer to them. Use them to cheer up someone who needs it.

See, perhaps many things are out of our control right now, which makes us feel helpless, but we still have ways to connect with each other. And as long as we can do that, I think we'll be ok.