I grew up in a small village, surrounded by vineyards, quiet roads, and open skies.
Then came Barcelona — vibrant, noisy, and chaotic.
After that, Berlin — vast, dynamic, and liberating.
Then Utrecht — calm, welcoming, and accessible.
I used to think that adapting to a new place was just a matter of time, social connections, and routine. But now I realize the place itself plays a much bigger role. Where we live deeply affects how we feel, connect, and experience life. After all, I’ve learned how important it is to choose that place wisely.
The truth is that the spaces we inhabit are not neutral. They affect us, shape us, challenge us — sometimes quietly, sometimes overwhelmingly.
We often think of cities as practical systems: transport, infrastructure, housing. But we forget that cities are also emotional landscapes. They can generate stress. Or calm it. They can isolate us or help us feel connected. The design of the streets, the presence of green spaces, the density, the noise levels, even how much sky we can see — it all matters.
And there is concrete evidence to support this. We know that constant noise raises cortisol levels. That lack of access to nature increases the risk of anxiety and depression. That social isolation can be stronger in crowded areas. Yet, these truths rarely guide how we design or inhabit our environments.
Instead, we adapt. We experience overstimulation, pressure, fragmentation. We convince ourselves that stress is part of life, or worse, part of ourselves.
But sometimes, it’s not about who we are.
It’s about where we are.
It’s easy to forget that architecture, urban planning, and public spaces are not just technical or aesthetic concerns. They are deeply human. They carry psychological weight. They influence how safe we feel, how often we rest, how easily we connect with others.
Some environments care for our mental health. Others silently wear it down.
And although we often discuss individual solutions — therapy, meditation, productivity strategies — we rarely question the systems and spaces that surround us every day.
What if the problem isn’t just how we live, but where?
I’ve been thinking about this more and more lately. I try to notice how a street makes me feel. Whether I can breathe fully in a square. If I feel tension walking through a certain neighborhood. I’ve learned that these are not trivial observations — they are signals. Indicators of what my mind and body need.
Because the environment is not separate from us.
It is part of us.
And it deserves as much attention as everything we carry within.
These words are not meant to be definitive. You will find doubts, thoughts in progress, and personal perspectives that aren’t necessarily universal truths. I’m not a professional writer. It’s just a way for me to better understand my own thinking and to feel that there’s a thread connecting it all. If you find it useful, that’s great. If you don’t, that’s fine too.