I was once told that my brain was “dangerously powerful.” I can’t think of a better description. I have always loved pushing myself intellectually, but I also struggled immensely with my mental health for much of my life. I tried to research, study, and think my way out of the challenges for a long time... with only limited success.

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Then, I moved back to Vancouver after living in big East Coast cities for over a decade. I started meandering trails in the centuries-old forests directly across the street from my new home, hoping for a reprieve from the stress of graduate school. But from my very first walk, I was captivated by the majestic cedars. I found myself noticing when sunlight hit the path in a unique way; when snow transformed the space into a winter wonderland; and when the colours of fall littered the ground. I grew to love the sounds of birds chirping, and the gurgling of creeks and small streams. I began eagerly breathing in the fresh air and faint smells of a Christmas tree. I became mindful of where I was choosing my footsteps, so I didn’t trip on rocks or roots.

 

In brief—walking the trails brought me out of my head and into my senses. I stopped thinking as much, and started being present in my environment and my body. Many thousands of hours on the trails later, I understand that this was the first time it had felt safe to live in my body. Challenges with body image, eating, exercise, pain, and illness across my lifetime had made my physical form feel like my mortal enemy. But the trees didn't care about my stretch marks. The sun didn't judge me when I walked slowly because my knee hurt. The leaves didn't think hormonal acne made me unlovable. The birds probably didn't even notice when I skipped a day because I didn't have enough energy for a walk. The forest felt safe. Gradually, I realized that I might be able to find some of that safety within myself, too. So I began learning the language of my nervous system. I started observing how and why I weaved through fight, flight, and freeze throughout my days. I made connections between those different states and patterns in my thoughts and feelings. Step by step (literally), I started experiencing small moments of safety in my body, which eventually turned into longer stretches. Miraculously, I watched my mental health improve in leaps and bounds during this time without much additional effort. I couldn't believe the keys to better moods, more capacity for emotional regulation, and clearer thinking were located deep within the body I had so long despised. But they were. 

It is now my personal and professional belief that feeling safe in our bodies is a prerequisite for good mental health, but safety can be hard to find when we've been at war our bodies for any period of time. So I love offering my clients the same first step on their journeys that I had on mine - via a reconnection to the forest and the trees.