Newswise — “I feel like I’ve aged all of a sudden; I don’t know where life went.” That's how one Canadian university student, a 21-year-old communications major in Montreal, describes spending the long months of the COVID-19 pandemic at home with his partner.
For many young adults, the period between early 2020 and the spring of 2023 marked an abrupt shift into a new temporality, reshaping the course of their life and their aspirations for the future.
To learn more, Université de Montréal sociology professor Cécile Van de Velde and her students Caroline Hardy, Stéphanie Boudreault, Julie Richard and Krystal Tennessee set out to see how the crisis spurred this changing notion of time.
In late 2020 and early 2021, they did in-depth interviews with 48 young adults between ages 18 and 32 in Montreal, Quebec City, Sainte-Anne-des-Monts and Toronto.
In a study published in December in Sociological Research Online, the researchers identified three broad profiles of these young adults. Depending on their personal, social and economic resources, they experienced the pandemic as either:
A fall: stolen time
For the first group, the pandemic was a devastating fall from normality, a time when they lost much of what they had: jobs, social ties, financial stability, even the basic necessities of life and the ability to envision their future. Young people in precarious situations – such as migrants, new students and disadvantaged youth lacking family support or access to programs such as the Canada Emergency Response Benefit (CERB) – often fell into this category. Suddenly, their plans were upended and they found themselves in dire straits, feeling they had no control over their lives. These impacts were most pronounced among the youngest in the study, who were particularly vulnerable to any kind of systemic crisis.
A young immigrant in Montreal described the free fall he experienced after losing his delivery job, his health and his papers, leaving him isolated and destitute: “No work, no income … I’m starting to freak out,” he said. “And now I’m stuck in my apartment, I’m stuck in this country. I'm stuck in my job, I'm stuck on every level.” Similarly, other participants recounted cumulative losses on the professional, family and social fronts, compounded by lack of support and no way to bounce back. One social-work student described how her life was “derailed” after she lost her job and support of her family, along with internship prospects.
The feelings of despair in this group were exacerbated by a sense of isolation and a lack of resources. Unable to see a future, some young people developed mental-health issues. They felt abandoned and expressed anger toward institutions they perceived as indifferent to their plight. “Everything I’ve invested in building my new life has collapsed,” said one immigrant student. The pandemic stole more than valuable time from these young people; it crystalized their fragility and locked them into an oppressive present.
A respite: recovered time
For the second group, the pandemic was an opportunity to reassess the choices they'd made in life. Like the first group, they were often students or workers in unsteady jobs, but unlike the first group they received support—from family or through programs such as the CERB—that allowed them to turn the forced break into a time for reflection and reinvention. They questioned the life choices they'd previously made under social or economic pressure. “Some said it was an opportunity to reclaim their lives, that they finally had a chance to rethink their choices,” Van de Velde said. “With financial and existential security, the narrative was reversed: it became about the right to change course, to think about who you are and what you want. For example, some dropped out of studies that they found too hard or unfulfilling and pursued more personal interests instead. This period of reflection allowed them to rediscover a sense of purpose, whereas others had lost it.”
The pandemic gave this group a “well-deserved break” during which they were able to refocus and rediscover meaning in their lives, Van de Velde said. One 27-year-old woman who got the CERB described this period as a blessing, as it gave her a chance to break out of the alienating grind of precarious jobs. “It’s like I could have a reset, a restart,” she said. A 20-year-old computer science student called it a “honeymoon” with himself. Another student living with his parents abandoned a preordained path to pursue a personal dream. Despite the difficulties of isolation and lockdowns, these young people were able to regain a sense of control over their lives, transforming a period of uncertainty into a positive turning point.
Some participants developed a new trust in institutions and a sense of community fostered by their shared experience of crisis. Those who received financial support saw it as evidence that positive change is possible. “These young people rediscovered their interdependence and spoke of repoliticization, but in their case it was a positive kind of politicization,” said Van de Velde.
A parenthesis: suspended time
The third group consisted of older young adults with more settled lives. For them, the pandemic was a parenthesis, a temporary suspension of their life plans. As graduate students or stable wage earners, they generally stayed on their life course without questioning their choices. While they had to contend with daily inconveniences—isolation, working from home, restrictions on leisure activities—they didn’t feel their future was threatened. One 28-year-old junior executive summarized the experience as “frustration at not being able to do what you normally do”—an adjustment rather than a catastrophic break.
This group adopted proactive strategies to cope with boredom and the risk of emotional exhaustion. Some turned to activities such as sports to maintain mental balance. Their narratives reflect resilience in dealing with the isolation, which was often alleviated by support from family or partners. They put their experience into perspective, considering themselves fortunate compared to others in more precarious situations. “This group did need help as well, but paradoxically they had better access to mental-health resources than the first group, which was in much greater distress,” Van de Velde noted.
Now a need for reform
Van de Velde believes there is an urgent need now to reform public policy to address the challenges faced by young adults—not just to meet their immediate needs by directing them to available resources, but to develop policies that enable young people to project themselves into the future.
“We need policies that secure young people’s prospects in the event of a crisis and to prevent them from falling,” she said.
This conclusion is supported by the lingering impact of the pandemic on young people’s mental health, she added.
“The situation has improved since the pandemic, but mental health has not yet returned to pre-pandemic levels. The pandemic left scars, especially for young women.”
In light of these findings, she calls for public policy to take a preventative and comprehensive approach, including “existential and financial safety nets” that allow young adults to feel protected against unforeseen events and to look with confidence to the future.
RSS