Mental Health ◦ Physical Space
Stream of Consciousness 01.
Alexandra (Alex) Jones. She/Her. 21. Canadian. Toronto.
Disclaimer:
As we near the end of an indisputably unforgettable year, and the beginning of another government sanctioned lockdown, we are forced to retire to the confines of our homes and rooms- surrendering pieces of our mental health in the process. While protocols like these help ensure the safety and physical health of our population, there is no denying the serious implications that confinement has on us. Given that the list of these implications is a long and complicated one, I want to use this piece to focus specifically on how our physical and immediate space can impact our well-being. With that said, I also want to recognize the importance of reflecting on these implications and identifying the other harmful realities that exist because of them- namely for those suffering in abusive, unstable, or unsafe spaces. This time can be mentally and physically detrimental for these groups, and doing what we can to be allies and take action can make even the smallest difference for those enduring this trauma.
I’ve always felt deeply connected to spaces. As a kid I would spend hours sorting my things, redecorating my room, and fashioning a place that I felt reflected who I was and who I wanted to be. I would go over to friend’s houses and marvel at their belongings, wondering what it would be like to live the way they did. To me, the cultivation of space has always been so personal, so telling- an ever-evolving project of the mind.
When I think about spaces, there’s a lot to consider. First, there’s space as it connects to wider determinants of our health, for example is this space promoting good physical wellbeing: is there enough room to move, is it clean, does danger present itself? Then there’s space as it relates to social environments: is this space inclusive, are you celebrated there, do you have a community nearby? There’s immediate space, living space, space in terms of a neighbourhood, city, or country- so many facets of this concept that shape who we are.
Illustration Credit: Theo Gallaro
It’s obvious that we can’t always choose our space or who shares it with us. In fact, being able to do so is a privilege I think many of us take for granted. But today, because our current global circumstances force many of us to stay home, the role of space in our lives is more profound than ever. In fact, when I remember phases of the pandemic, I break it down by living area.
First there was my room at university. In this case the space was designed to be temporary and so feeling comfortable there was impossible. Then it was back to my childhood bedroom (a space I think many would agree is too close to parents for comfort), before I finally settled in the basement room I have today. Despite the temporary comfort a new space gave me, a comfort I’m sure many of us can understand, restlessness eventually set in from being confined to the same area, and after a while I was thankless again.
I wondered: what’s a room without a view? I felt ungrateful for the home I was lucky to have, but the desire for a comforting place went beyond what many might assume to be a simple ‘aesthetic feel’. I reflected. Space changes our routines, our habits, our ability to create good work. I felt stagnant, the walls I saw everyday didn’t inspire me, and I didn’t know what to do. I spent a while like this, wishing I was somewhere else, feeling spiritless.
It’s hard being young and being stuck. That’s the truth. It’s hard anywhere. It’s hard when we’re meant to be experiencing frequent changes in sound, smell, touch, and sight. It’s hard when we're in the same place every day. It is.
But the more time I spent living what felt like a groundhog day infinity loop, the more I came to realize that nothing was going to change anytime soon. It seems like an obvious realization, but I mean, I felt this in my body, this spark of acceptance.
So, I wrote down what I was thankful for.
Illustration Credit: Theo Gallaro
And just like that, a person influenced immensely by their physical surroundings, learned that
gratitude can do just as much for wellbeing as a change of scenery can.
Instead of focusing on what I didn’t have, what I was missing, or what I was tired of, I considered the opposite. I can’t deny that I felt bitter for a while, but I do think that we can find some good in this lockdown, what little we can anyway. We have choices. We can let ourselves be overcome with the desire to move, be somewhere that might connect more with who we are, but we can also choose to focus on what makes us feel more ‘at home’ where we are now.
My mom finds solace in her garden, a garden we wouldn’t be able to have if we lived anywhere else, and my dad finds solace in his armchair, surrounded by the home he’s always loved.
We’re conditioned to want more, to crave new, but we’re also allowed to be happy. Instead of letting disappointment strike us, which believe me it will, we have to do what we can with what we’ve been given. It’s not always easy, and it’s not always pleasing, but it will always be good for the soul. So, we should take this time to realize what really matters, find our garden or our armchair, then sit and enjoy.
