Five years after the onset of COVID-19, its impact on my generation’s social and mental development lingers like an unshakeable shadow. As an international student, my journey amplified this disruption. The pandemic delayed my plans to study in Australia by a year, upending both my academic path and my sense of self. Lockdowns, isolation, and an exhausting transition to a new country tested my resilience as an introvert — leaving me grappling with uncertainty that persists even now.
When COVID-19 struck at the start of my post-high school life, I remained in Hong Kong. I enrolled in an associate degree in social science delivered via Zoom. The lockdown dismantled the routines I depended on. Learning and socialising evaporated into screen time and silence. To cope, I helped with my parents’ small retail business, selling pork in a traditional market. It was a part-time role that involved packing and delivering orders but could offer little relief to the state of…. The work was solitary, with interactions limited to brief exchanges with my parents or the occasional delivery person. As an introvert, I retreated easily into isolation. Yet, the absence of meaningful interaction gnawed at me, blurring my days into a haze of disconnection.
Arriving at USyd a year later, I faced a steep adjustment. Since English is my second language, lectures and tutorials were challenging to follow. As a history and sociology student, the reading load was overwhelming. An ancient Roman history course nearly broke me. Lacking prior knowledge and stumbling over Latin texts, I almost failed that unit. The exhaustion of adapting to a new country intensified these struggles, leaving me feeling isolated despite my efforts to connect. By my second year, my oral English improved which boosted my confidence in socialising and eased my integration into Australian life. However, COVID-19 had already disrupted my academic and social preparedness.
Even as I adapted, new worries emerged. I had studied biology and physics in high school. My transition from science subjects to arts subjects in university drew scepticism from my parents and older brother, who rolled their eyes at my decision. They viewed science as a more stable path, while I felt drawn to the humanities. Nevertheless, some of my graduated friends encouraged me to pursue my interests, affirming the demands and value of an Arts degree.
However, the reality of being an international student in Australia revealed a different case. The isolation and disruptions caused by COVID-19 delayed my career readiness, leaving me unprepared to navigate a job market increasingly shaped by AI. While false claims about the future of the arts proliferated online, I believed an Arts degree, equipping me with communication skills for chatbots and content narrative analysis, offered a strong foundation to complement AI-driven industries. Yet, the pandemic’s lingering effects, such as my delayed social integration and late start in career planning, made it harder to seize those opportunities.
My attempts at networking yielded few results, and applications for part-time jobs in my field went unanswered. I was still reeling from the transition to Australia and the social isolation that had stunted my confidence. Beyond personal setbacks, broader challenges such as precarious work, course cutbacks, soaring living costs, and a rental crisis piled on relentlessly. Independence, once a bright ideal, dimmed under the weight of uncertainty. I was left to fight for motivation in a world that seemed indifferent.
Undoubtedly, the pandemic interrupted education and career trajectories for countless peers, thrusting us into uncharted territory. The mental toll of prolonged isolation has been profound. Many still wrestle with frustration and a fractured sense of belonging. We were delayed from becoming “true” adults, sovereign individuals, which is the only way to meet both social expectations and those of my family.
My birthday has just passed, but I felt little pleasure from it. I am turning 23 now, yet I am still growing alongside my anxieties from when I was 18. The uncertainty of those early days lingers, but I’ve learned to navigate it with the tools I’ve gained over time. Adapting to life in Australia taught me resilience in the face of the language barrier by improving my oral English and seeking support from peers. The isolation forced me to develop self-reliance, as I had to find ways to stay motivated during lockdowns, such as setting small daily goals and reading to process my emotions. Now, I am rebuilding my confidence and sense of belonging in a post-pandemic world.
