Again, I apologize. This isn’t the way I envisioned Strategic Wander starting. With traveling out of the question, however, this will have to suffice. Trust me. I’d much rather be exploring the practice of meditation and its link to mental wellness or meeting with an endurance athlete to understand their lifestyle’s mental toll. However, I still think this post holds true to what I’m trying to do with Strategic Wander: Create content that meets at the intersection of travel and mental health. I traveled to my new home, and I’m talking about how I kept my mental health in check during my first month here. So, it fits, right?
As I reflect on the first month in my new home, I thought it’d be appropriate to share what I believe to be the three primary factors that kept my mental health in check. Here’s what I came up with:
I Created a Space That Radiated Calm
This lies at the heart of the “successful” first month. When I can’t explore—the one thing I know makes me happy—I knew I needed to find an alternative. When you can’t really leave your house, I knew creating a space to always fall back on if I felt my brain slipping would be critical. So, I built a sanctuary in my 700 square foot studio just outside of New York City.
For me, that meant all things hygge (HOO-gah). I don’t know why I’m drawn to hygge, but I can’t get enough of it. All I can say is that hygge perfectly embodies the lifestyle I’ve found to have the most significant positive impact on my life and mental health. Maybe it’s the fact that its roots are ingrained so deep in the lives’ of the happiest people on Earth. For someone struggling with mental health, I can’t think of anything more appealing. So, while I’d rather be living life in Copenhagen or in the Funen countryside, I knew it was essential that I keep a slice of Scandinavia as close to me as possible.
So, when I moved into my apartment, I did everything I could to create a space that imitated what I fell in love with almost 4,000 miles away. That meant tons of blankets, books, candles, and nothing I didn’t need (a cluttered space leads to a cluttered mind, right?). I also have photos and mementos scattered throughout the space that remind me of that magical land.
While it’s still a work in progress, my apartment is quickly becoming a place that I can go when my brain is on the fritz, and the world is seemingly crashing down. When I’m here, I can send a message to my brain: “hey, stop worrying. We’re home. You’re safe now.”
I Maintained Relationships Near and Far
There’s plenty of science that supports the idea that isolation isn’t exactly synonymous with mental wellness. Knowing that, I made it a priority to maintain relationships and connections whenever possible. Of course, for the past month and the foreseeable future, I’ve done this virtually. It’s not always much, and it doesn’t always eat a ton of time, but a phone call or text here and there has gone a long way. I’ve played games with my cousins, optimistically planned adventures with my travel buddies, and connected with some of the fantastic staff at my apartment building. I’ve even reached out to friends from long ago who I haven’t talked to in years. Any interaction that can get my endorphins pumping is a win. These little hormones in my brain have kept me stable and grounded during what easily could have been a turbulent first month.
I Made Time Each Day to Do What I Love
For a lot of people, doing what they love is out of the question right now. Do you like watching your favorite sports team in action? Nope. That’s not going to happen right now. Do you like meeting up with your friends are the local bar? That’s a hard no. Like going to the gym? Again, nope. For many, they’ve had to put their passions on hold—the things they look forward to are no more.
Thankfully, my happiness revolves around words. For me, writing and reading never fails to bring me to my happy place. Whether I’m writing or immersed in a good book, I can rest assured knowing that doing so will transport me to someplace where I don’t worry—where the hardships of the here and now vanish. It’s a strange experience, but one I’ve relied on during my first month on my own. So, when I feel myself slipping or feel the need for an OCD-induced ritual, I grab a book or open my laptop and go to my happy place.