In early June this year, we finally moved into our home. We’re situated near the base of one of the mountains here in the Lower Mainland with a nice view of the river valley and the occasional sighting of Mt. Baker in Washington State.
I didn’t realize how much my living arrangements impacted my mental health. Although I knew our small city apartment that sat along a busy racetrack–I mean roadway–was temporary, those early morning engine revving and the constant parade of emergency vehicles with sirens blaring really got to me.
My writing suffered more than I cared to imagine. Just opening a Word doc in order to spark some creative juices ended up sparking panic attacks instead. I joked at first thinking I was just having an adult temper tantrum. But as the months wore on and the word count kept dwindling, I got worried. Was I losing my creativity? Do I no longer enjoy writing? What’s going on?
I developed problems with food. I developed problems with alcohol. The last straw came when I absolutely lost my sh*t over the shower drain not being clean. This was right around the time our developer told us our house would be delayed by about two months.
Not to bore you with that. Really, the apartment wasn’t THAT bad. The location was close to amenities and great places to walk, but the constant noise and close quarters did me in.
Thankfully in June, our house was completed and we moved in. It took me 2-3 weeks to “calm down”. I also restarted my anxiety medication, so that helped as well. The ideas started coming back. The urge to write slowly bubbled to the surface. It was that one morning lying in bed, listening to the birds chirping instead of the teenagers and their screaming car engines that it all finally made sense. It was the location that was stealing my creativity, not some loss of desire to write.
The nature in this area of the city is amazing. I drag my poor dog out multiple times a day for hour-long walks along the many trails and foliage-covered sidewalks.
The views are amazing.
Sure, we have almost daily bear sightings, and I’ve stumbled to within metres of a juvenile black bear foraging for berries. They’re not the vicious murder machines Hollywood makes them out to be, as long as you steer clear of the mama with her cubs.
But bears aside, mountain life agrees with me far more than city life did. I thought I’d miss my walks to the coffee shop, or the fact I could just walk to the grocery store to pick up milk should we run low. “Whatever am I going to do!” I thought to myself. “We’ll have to stock the fridge and freezer, I’ll have to make my own coffee, I can’t just walk to the mall during my lunch break.”
Psht! I don’t miss any of that!
Give me a gently babbling brook, or the scent of wild clover on the wind any day over the so-called convenience of the city.
As I finish writing this post, it’s almost time for Walkie #2 for Mochi. There are days I literally have to drag her out of the house. She’s the only dog who doesn’t like walkies, it seems. No amount of squirrels to chase and deer to bark at will get her off the couch some days. But too bad! This girl needs to get outside and be one with nature!
So, now it’s time to go breathe some fresh air and soak up that sun. For tonight, we write.
Later!
– Rissa
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