The influence of the environment in which we live: How can it isolate you from the active life you need to be happy?

I had no plans to leave the city.

I didn't dream of quiet roads, empty fields, or the silence that hums in your ears after sunset.

 

But life threw me a curveball.

My husband and I moved from a bustling city to a small, remote place that had nothing in common with the rhythm of our old life. The reason? His family needed us. And when family calls, you go.

 

I didn't realize that while I was there for others, I was slowly disappearing from myself.

 

 

The environment that imprisoned me

 

Our new “home” was more like a prison. No cafes, no close friends nearby, no possibility of spontaneous plans. The nearest grocery store was a few minutes' drive away. The days dragged on. The nights seemed endless. There was no theater of life outside our windows—just silence.

And for someone like me, who drew energy from people, colors, street lamps, music drifting from bars, and chaotic conversations in crowded rooms... it wasn't just a change. It was like being disconnected.

 

I stopped dressing nicely. I stopped going for walks. I stopped caring what day of the week it was. The only things guaranteed to be on my to-do list were regular arguments with my husband, dealing with daily chores, and stressful situations that were causing visible wrinkles and pain, not only on our faces.

 

And the worst part? I stopped wanting to move—physically, emotionally, mentally.

What had once filled my life—being active—seemed pointless here.

 

 

When peace turns into inactivity

 

People often talk about how peaceful life in the country can be. And it can be. But no one talks about how that same peace can slowly start to suffocate you when it's not a choice but a necessity.

I felt like I was living someone else's life. I was doing the right things – I was there for my family, supporting my husband, taking care of the household. But inside, I was falling apart.

 

I wasn't sad like in a dramatic movie scene. I was just slowly becoming invisible to myself.

That's what isolation does—it doesn't always scream. Sometimes it just quietly removes your connection to the world and, with it, your connection to your own vitality or identity.

 

 

Finding my way back—even when I was stuck

 

Here's the truth that no one wants to admit: when those around you don't support you, you have to work twice as hard to stay true to yourself.

I realized that I couldn't wait for the move and the sale of the house to be over or for the city's energy to miraculously return. I had to create my own spark, otherwise I risked fading away forever.

So I started small. So small it was almost ridiculous.

 

Almost every morning, I took my dog for a walk. Same route, same trees — but I got some fresh air and did something for my pet, who needed so little to be happy.

I started stretching again, even if it was just mechanical movements at my desk and when I got out of bed in the morning.

I kept a special gratitude journal—not to be poetic, but so I could say to myself, “I feel bad” or “Today was a hard day” or “This day was better in some way.”

 

I joined an online community just to hear voices that didn't belong to me or my husband.

I made a rule: every day, do one thing that reawakens natural life in me.

Slowly, the fog began to lift.

 

 

Lessons from an overly quiet place

 

Looking back, I realize that this place—even though it felt like personal exile—was also a place where I got to know a deeper side of myself. Not the energetic city version. Not the social one. But the one that can sit in silence and still find meaning. The one that doesn't need life to be loud to feel alive.

 

A few life lessons I've learned:

1. Environment is important, but mindset is more important. You can't always control where you live, but you can decide how you exist in it.
   
   
2. Movement is medicine. You don't need a gym or a studio—just your body and the will to keep moving.
   
   
3. Gratitude isn't forced—it's something you find. Some days I was grateful just for a long hot shower or a cup of good tea with a book I was reading. But even that gave me strength.
   
   
4. Discomfort is a teacher. I learned what I value most: relationships, creativity, community. And I will never take it for granted again.
   
   
5. Studying energy levels through a course. It was a huge blessing for me to get a certificate that helped me heal the inner storm and confusion that was gradually fading from my mind.

 

 

If you are also there...

 

If you are reading this article and find yourself in a place—physically or emotionally—where you feel cut off from the life you want to live, I understand you.

I know what it's like to lose your drive. When you feel like you've come to a standstill while the world around you continues without you.

But I'll tell you one thing: you're not in it forever. Even in stillness, the seeds of change are sprouting. Even if you can't see it, you are becoming stronger, wiser, and more aware.

Don't wait for those around you to give you permission to live.

 

Create your own rhythm. Find small joys that will keep you afloat. Trust the process.

And when the time finally comes to return to the life you've been missing, you'll emerge with a heart full of gratitude and eyes that see differently.

Not just because you made it through. But because you learned to grow wherever you were planted.

 

This quiet chapter of my life changed me. Not by my own choice, but for the better.