Unless you or someone you know has contracted Covid-19, you’re likely just being exposed to the major coronavirus news: the vaccine trials, the updated infection prevention measures, the rising death toll. Smaller, more personal news about the pandemic tends to get drowned out on the open internet. To combat this, people who have tested positive for the virus congregate on their own, finding and founding dedicated online spaces where they post about the minutiae of a crisis more often described in giant, global arcs.
These groups are both distressing and hopeful. “I’m 21, with no prior health conditions,” writes one redditor on r/COVID19positive. “I advise anyone my age to please take all precautions. It hurts my fucking heart knowing I gave my family this horrible virus.” Commenters urge them not to be too hard on themselves, and to focus on getting well. On the Facebook group Survivor Corps, a poster has good news about an ailing loved one: His oxygen levels are finally holding steady. “This is the first improvement we have seen,” they write. “Thank you for your encouragement and your prayers.” Others mourn people lost to Covid-19 with memorial posts, list out their symptoms so people can compare and offer advice, seek help coping with the anxiety of their new or worsening diagnosis, or even just rant about anti-maskers they’ve encountered.
As infection rates continue to rise, these groups have become quite popular, drawing in hundreds of thousands of sick people seeking support. According to Jay Sinrod, founder of the Covid-19 Support Group (have it/had it) on Facebook, their members represent 102 countries from the UK to Tajikistan, and he sends a welcome message to about 300 people per day. Despite the much-heralded perils of social media groups like misinformation and harassment, for many people with Covid-19, these groups have been a source of solace. For medical researchers, they’ve been a source of data—free, easily harvestable, and ripe for analysis.
Online support groups tend to surge after any major crisis, whether it’s a terrorist attack or a natural disaster. However, according to John Naslund, who studies digital mental health at Harvard Medical School, the Covid-19 pandemic has created an unprecedented surge in online activity. “What we’re seeing is the impact of the pandemic on mental health,” Naslund says. “It’s increasingly difficult to access in-person services. Here in Boston, most hospitals have stopped outpatient mental health services. It’s interesting that they’re not considered essential.” In his research into online groups dedicated to mental health issues, he’s found such communities to be incredibly helpful for some people’s wellbeing. But “I want to be careful about saying it can work for anyone,” he cautions. “People who are still in crisis or have maybe more complex challenges need professional help.” Returns also diminish the less the group is moderated, as anybody who has ever been on social media could probably guess.
Covid-19 support groups aren’t purely Pollyanna. “I was really surprised at the trolls,” says Jean Oja, moderator of r/Covid-19Positive. “People have posted that they tested [positive] for Covid and they’re in high school, but then we check them out and none of that is true. Or when a trans girl that was sick [posted]. The hate that came from people who are transphobic—I was very much not happy with that.” Still, Oja and the rest of her team of moderators (about half of whom are teenagers) work hard to scrub all that negativity away, even now when the subreddit has grown to more than 86,000 people. Meanwhile, Sinrod’s Facebook group has cut down on noise and misinformation but limiting all posts to personal experience—no screaming headlines allowed. Yet, even after the culling of meddlers, most groups are brimming with people (mostly women) eager to give testimonials. “I check Survivor Corps daily. It is a strong community. It continues to give me positivity and ways to give back,” says Dina Ganz Traugot, a 51-year-old Covid survivor from New York City.