Today is one of the many ‘major life changes’ – this time I hope it actually sticks.

Sometimes when you’re in a dark place, you think you’ve been buried when you’ve actually been planted.

Today was the first night I started the biggest change in my life. I’ve started this night many times before, good intentions with no backbone, but this time I’m determined to make it stick.

I am taking control of my life – my health specifically – and getting it under control. I’m doing this for many reasons, many that have only really become clear to me in the last year. I am aiming to lose over 100lbs. over the course of a year, but honestly even dropping 50lbs. is a good start.

I’m aiming to have a body that will carry me through life, and (important for me personally) a body that will be able to carry my children healthily if conceive at all.

The reality of PCOS and the risks I am under – both health-wise and in terms of a healthy pregnancy if I want one – hit me fast and hard this year.

This time, unlike many times I didn’t just jump into with enthusiasm, going to the gym but dwindling out after one or two inconsistent tries. This time I thought logically about what I am currently capable of – what my schedule and mental health are capable of. I thought about money and time and also anxiety.

Maybe it’s not always about fixing something broken. Maybe it’s about starting over and creating something better.

I researched fitness routines, Level-One and the natural progression those might take if/when I found that I needed to change them. I looked at other plus-sized ladies advice about how often to work out or what worked for them. I researched PCOS and the types of workouts that worked for others, and the number of times they worked out. It’s hard, I’ve had no direction in this matter, but I’m determined.

Further, from that, I started eating a healthy (healthier, I’m a student it’s not easy) long before I started working out. I cut out pops and sweets, started tracking calories to try and keep track of my eating and cut portions. I started looking up recipes without dairy and red meats. It hasn’t really shown any results yet, but the habits are starting to be engrained. That’s what matters, trying to do everything at once has never worked for me, trying to eat healthily, work out, be a student, balance a budget – it just didn’t work.

I found a place that I was comfortable to work out in. A 24/7 gym I had to drive to (it’s winter) but could walk to when it’s warmer. It has a pass-key to get in after office hours, and it felt good that I could go in the middle of the night if I couldn’t sleep and also not have to face anyone. It has a women’s-only section, with all the equipment and weights that I will need. It made me feel comfortable. I can shower there when I am finished and it’s not that far from my house. It’s the first time walking into a Gym didn’t make me feel…uncomfortable like I didn’t belong.

It helps that through my school it was free for me to use.

This brings me tonight. A rainy, freezing day in Canada where a weather warning is in effect to warn against going outside, or driving or doing anything but staying inside. And I was wondering if an hour of ‘Just Dance’ was the same as an hour and a half at the gym. I was determined though to not let my first day of my new life to be delayed. I had given myself a week in school to get back into the ebbs and flows. But I was NOT going to let myself get discouraged by freezing rain and bad roads.

I took it slow, I was patient. If it was worse and it was dangerous I would have settled for ‘Just Dance’ but I needed tonight.

And I won’t lie.

It was awful. I felt ashamed, and embarrassed, and anxious from the moment I stepped into the gym. I changed my shoes and dashed straight to the women’s only section but I still felt my heart start racing and my cheeks start to blush.

Even though I have 3 housemates with me I knew this was my battle.

And it was awful. Despite my research, I fumbled in my workout, unsure of which free-weight was which. I was awkward and wanted to cry. I thought I was going to throw-up at one point and I definitely wanted to hide.

I was ashamed, and embarrassed, and just all around miserable and anxious to be in this space that makes me feel like I don’t belong. I don’t deserve to be healthy.

But then I started repeating it. This is for my future.

I repeated this through my warm up

I repeated this through my free-weights.

I repeated this through my cardio. No matter how many times I had to slow down. No matter how much it burned and how much I thought people were staring at me. I remembered why I wanted to do this in the first place.

I remembered why I was starting this on a Monday.

And those last 30 seconds of my cardio I sprinted. Just to prove I could. Just to prove I didn’t give up.

I feel gross now. I feel wobbly and pathetic and exhausted. I have an 8 hour school day tomorrow, an 8am start, and even though the next two days are a gym-break for me I feel like I won’t make it.

I feel like this ‘new start’ will just end like all the others.

But this is a mental battle I must have to myself. Even if I have friends, and a supportive boyfriend, and wonderful family that believe in me, it’s the few people who make me feel worthless that will dominate my thoughts. It’s the little bits of self-doubt that will send me into a tumbling spiral of miserable anxiety.

I’m the only one inside my head. I’m the only one inside my body. I am the only one who can make myself get up and do anything. And that makes all the difference.

So, here it is. My promise to myself. Putting it out there.

Day One:

So as I move on from this evening, these are the things that I advise you:

  • Find your motivation. Whether it’s getting fit to be able to carry your children one day, or slimming down to fit in those roller coaster seats – find it. Find something that gets you angry and then gets your motivated.
  • Find a place to work out that makes you comfortable. 24/7 gyms with women’s-only sections make me comfortable. But maybe you’re not female-identifying, or maybe the thought of being surrounded by other women working out makes you uncomfortable. Either way, you need to find that space that you can find your head-space and get those workouts in. Be at home; be at a gym – just have a SPACE separate to home/work that lets you work.
  • Research to a point. If you have a condition that makes working out difficult (because of heart problems, metabolic issues, mobility limitations etc) research what works for others like you or talk to your doctor. Work effectively, make sure you know what you’re doing so you’re not overwhelmed when you finally do get to the gym. But don’t let yourself fall into the ‘but I haven’t found the perfect workout yet‘ it’s not going to happen and you’re never going to get to the gym.
  • Start in whatever way works for you. Maybe change out your diet first, or work out first, or cut out a few different foods. I needed to start out small, but maybe you need to cut all these unhealthy habits cold-turkey to gain success. Try small first, it always feels like a failure if cold-turkey doesn’t work.
  • Don’t beat yourself up over small-losses. Don’t punish yourself for enjoying chocolate, or not counting the calories so closely over the holidays. You are here on this earth to thrive at life. As you go along you will stop eating as much, and will naturally know your limits. Enjoy those home cooked meals when you go home, or your favourite home-town ice cream when you visit.
  • Celebrate your successes. Maybe you lost 10lbs. Maybe you went to the gym 5-times a week for a month. Celebrate those things! You should be so proud! Buy yourself that new gym bag or new workout pants. Do small things to motivate.
  • Repeat your motivation. Chant it over and over and over in your head when that last 7-minutes is burning your thighs. But get through that first workout. Get through that last 3-minutes of cardio. You will be mad at yourself after if you quit-out at the last moment. Even if you have to take it slower, even if you count it as a long cool-down. Get Through It. You Can. I know you can. Believe in you. You will get there.

And remember:

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.


Losing yourself.

I find myself in this strange space right now. It’s a hazy uncomfortable place between not being able to throw up and absolute contentment. But scary contentment. The discontent that feels like contentedness, that feels like you don’t care when you actually do.

Because I am not content in any way. not in where I am in life, not with where my body is and how it feels, and not with my attitudes. I am not content with my school work and I am not content.

I’ve lost a grip on the things I love and the parts of me that made me feel unique. I’m kind of just existing right now with this constant sense of discontent. I’ve lost my love and drive for art; I’ve lost my drive and love for reading; I’ve lost my love for anime and writing, and I’m just existing in this world where I’m a student with no money and no stability.

I exist simply to graduate and it’s slowly killing me.

Because even when I’m getting this amazing grades I feel great for a minute or two but then I just feel this crushing existence on me again like I don’t have time to live. Like I have a responsibility to my schooling, to my bills, to my debt not to love life, and not to buy new paints, or try something new.

It is likely depression in actuality, and I’m working on talking to someone about my mental health.

I’m trying to take on too much, but all the things (mental and physical health, school work, me time, trying to find a job, etc) is all interconnected. You can’t work on one thing.

It’s so easy to lose yourself. To forget all the things you love in favour or success. Or to survive. It’s easy to push off the crocheting, or the painting, or the hours you’d spend writing fanfiction or poetry. It’s easy to have to. When things are building up and choking you what else are you going to do?

It’s here and now, sitting outside in the freezing winter evening, trying to find any reason to exist that I wonder how hard it’ll be to find all those things once again.


I have this fairly irrational fear about packing.

As of now, I haven’t lived in one place for more than 8 months at a time for the past…..4 years. And as such you’d think that I’m getting pretty good at packing, packing light and fast and efficiently.

Well you’d be dead wrong. Where I’d like to think I’m fairly efficient, especially in when I get my packing finished, I am definitely not a light or confident packer.

For instance, I’ll be moving 2 hours away from my grandparents house (where I keep a majority of my things, and if my stay-point between places during the 4 months left in the year) and so I am packing pretty much EVERYTHING I might need in the year so I don’t have to come back as often*.

*This is because of family issues and not because I’m ungrateful for everything they’ve ever done for me*

As such, not including the things my roommate at my new house has already brought to the new house for me, I have:

  • 4 medium Rubbermaid boxes
  • 2 suitcases (and a small carry-on style)
  • 2 backpacking 40/60L size
  • my laptop and backpack
  • my desktop (my main computer).
  • A plastic, 3-drawer unit from Walmart

And while I’ve gone through this several times. I’ve downsized twice, gotten rid of a lot of clothes I just don’t think I’ll need or use anymore, I still feel like I have way WAY too much stuff.

But all this pretty much contains all my clothes – summer and winter (winter boots, and my big and small winter coats) – all my recreational things, drawing painting etc, my bedding and towels, my computer (obviously, I’m moving for school after all), and any kitchen things I might need. So theoretically, it’s not too much at all.

But my anxiety, my worry that someone will judge just makes me so nauseous. It makes me want to go through everything again to make sure I’m not taking anything I really really don’t need.

There are two boxes that I feel might be worth leaving behind if to aid my anxiety. However, they serve, what to me is an important purpose too. The one is filled with decor for my room. it’s a small but bright room true, but it is not home, and I enjoy filling my space with comfortable bright things. The second is filled with books, non-school books. Both books I’ve read before and books I haven’t had a chance to read.

Yes both might be unnecessary, this place is not my permanent house, but it will be my house for 8 months and that is important.

So as I sit and pack, I’ll go through everything one more time, and this time, the weekend I leave I will be throwing out everything in my house that I do not use. Because this year I want to start new and these things I bring to my new house (and the few pieces of clothing or heirloom and sentimental art) will be all that’s left. I don’t want to keep coming back to a cluttered space, and this time I won’t.

But it’s hard to get rid of everything. Hard to get rid of everything you started your life with. After all, the things in my room at my grandparents’ house started as all I had in Canada when I started my journey. SO I really find it difficult to just shred or recycle it.

But I am also looking forward to having just this, just what I pack and nothing else.

I never feel Wanderlust, until I do.

I have never been a person afflicted by wanderlust. I have liked my feet firmly on the ground, even as my head wanders the clouds.

I have never really wondered at the wonders beyond the seas, the places only reached by charter plane or puttering boat. I haven’t wanted to travel or see the far reaches of a place. I haven’t wanted to leave my home or see the world.

Sure I’ve been curious. Fascinated by culture and understanding of how important it is we have understanding and tolerance of the differences. But barring a vacation now and then, or a trip to my own back yard -IE into the Canadian wilderness to understand that and how we’ve dishonoured it – I haven’t wanted to leave.

It might be because I’ve never remained in one place for more than 5 years, or that at one point I moved 3 times in a year, and now move at least twice a year and have for the past four years.

I  don’t have wanderlust, I don’t feel that drive to get away. Until I do.

Until I am overwhelmed by responsibilities and the weight of my own future. Until I’m faced with my lack of skills, or looks, or self-esteem. It is then, during exam times, and hard times that suddenly I heard the wind calling.

Suddenly I have the need to grab a bag with just the bare necessities, grab my dog and my partner and just go. To leave with no destination and no end goal. To enter the words and never come back. To talk to the people who travel for a living, or who like me are travelling to get away from it all.

I don’t experience wanderlust until it is all I have left to feel, and I wonder, in all my daydreams that are becoming less and less grounded, if that’s necessarily a bad thing.

The most terrifying moment.

The most terrifying moment is Sunday night, just as the afternoon fades away.

It’s getting a phone call from a person who never calls, a call from a place far away, where time slips away and for them, it is not the afternoon but twilight.

It’s a harried voice, and you don’t know if you’re falling or if you’re floating because it’s a desperate – “Talk some sense into him”.

It’s screaming in the background you recognize too well because you spent 6 years of your life taking blows so that she never made that sound. Your sister, the girl your raised shouldn’t sound like that.

The most terrifying moment is choking back sobs when he throws the phone away, a breathless, solid “Fuck it all” the only proof that your words reached him.

It’s choking back tears again, burning them away when your sister is still screaming, and sobbing and her tears are bringing back memories of every drunken dispute you got between to protect her from blows she should never have aimed at her childhood.

The most terrifying moment is a stern calmness when you demand your mom to give the phone to her, to get her out of here. No one else seems to realise they’re allowing a child to witness all this. She doesn’t need to hear the voices using her as leverage. She already watched the event, she doesn’t need to be held to it.

It’s talking through her sobbing, gently coaxing conversation, drying tears with metaphorical hands only, reassuring and reaffirming things that were destroyed by frantic people in the downstairs living room.

It’s hanging up the phone six hours later, the ambulance there, the screaming stopped, and your sister finally, FINALLY falling asleep.

It’s having been asked only once if you were okay.

The most terrifying moment is being three thousand miles away, at three in the morning, too shocked to cry, still burning and unable to cry, waiting for the call back to tell you it’s all okay.

It doesn’t come though. Because you were needed for a moment. Just that single moment. You did your job. You were useful, but you won’t get that phone call. You don’t even get called to tell you he survived the night, and later the week.

The Most terrifying moment is being forgotten in the harried screaming of people who can’t handle mental health, and wondering to yourself… if it were you, who they’d call on a Sunday afternoon to look after your little girl?


Anxiety will sneak up on you from nowhere, I’ve found. And this I’ve also found is the reason that people without some kind of consistent anxiety find difficult to understand.

Today started off wonderfully. It was winding down a calm wonderful evening with the partner of my heart; celebrating our version of Valentine’s day with games and take out and cookies and snuggles.

But I’ve had to travel, seeing family who is ill and who I owe a lot. And so we can’t be together right now. He’s also having a really hard time right now, wth family, and stress, and school, and himself. I’m not there.

This, this moment of knowing I’m not there, that knowing if he’s okay is dependent on his ad my phone working – is dependent on text messages, because he’s working so we can’t call, and he’s exhausted right now so we can’t call.

I am dependant on his wellbeing, in more ways than just wanting a future together. He is grounding, he is the heartbeat that brings me down from my anxieties.

So that his unwellness, his anxiety cause me anxiety, my being away from him spikes my heart rate and make tears appear from nowhere, and my being away from him also means I have no grounding is ironic.

Ironic in the tragic way that lovers become dependent, and dependency becomes something more, something discussed under bated breathes. Something that makes ethereal and fairytale out of love and acceptance of all but self.

From the girl who wants too much

It has been an insecurity that I ask for too much. Too much time, too much support, just too much. It’s something I’ve struggled with for many years- and still do- though I’ve been getting better at realising my own worth, and the fact that those who love me want to give me things, and I’m not an obligation.

But still, I find myself wanting.

Wanting to be done with school, wanting to be done with winter. I find myself wanting to be finished essays I haven’t even started writing yet, and being done with being 21.

It’s probably my depression but that’s beside the point.

I’m always wanting, and at 21, the things I want are a bit unusual.

I want to be done school not because school sucks, but because I’m bored and because I want to do my Master’s. I don’t want to be an undergrad anymore, and I don’t want to be this age. I want to be done school so I can do more schooling at a level I hope to pursue my own interests, and not force feed myself books of topics I don’t think will change anything. I want to be out of York so that I can continue my YouTube stuff, because in my head, being away from York, in my masters or a college will mean I have the time to do this.

I want to live in a house with my partner, stable enough to not feel that heart-pounding fear that I’m going to fail and have to drop out, just for one  god-damned day. I want to feel successful for one minute, and not nauseous over the $1 in my bank account and the $550 rent that needs to be paid in a week. I want to be engaged and married, I want to have a family. I want to settle down for good.

But I also want to go camping, and have 3 dogs and not be in an apartment anymore. I want to live somewhere in the wilds, and also in the city with a giant bay window with plants overflowing the bench seat.

Not because I see everyone else doing it, people my age typically want the opposite of that it seems, but because for me stability seems to solve my problems.

I want to be a young adult, still, but I want to also be further than I already am. I want to be stable and successful, I want to do with my time as I want. In my head being engaged, or being a grad student, or even just graduating and being away from York feels like it’ll make things better. Maybe when I’m a grad student I’ll be stable. Maybe when I’m in college I’ll be able to do crafting, or drawing or youtube again.

It’s not true because I’ll still be paying rent and tuition and won’t have enough money for supplies. But it feels that way when I’m so distressed about life.

From the girl who wants too much, who wants to grow up, but only in the way in which I have my own apartment, and not a student residence, and not a basement, I say it’s okay.

It’s okay to want to grow up, to want to settle down, to not like the party life and the drinking games; that’s alright. Grow how you like, and do the things that make you most happy.

Drink if you like, write slam poetry, nerd out. Be happy learning to cook, or knit, or keep a home.

Keep wanting more.

The things in life I may never get; but that are sure lovely to dream about.

So I originally posted this on my tumblr page but thought that this really was a perfect blog post. So I’m sharing this with you.

1) A tiny house, and I don’t mean just a really small home, I mean a tiny home that I built myself on a trailer. One built with the hands of my friends and family as they help me, and with resources I foraged from reuse stores and old furniture.

2) A garden. Not just any garden, but one filled with fruit and mostly vegetables. With herbs for my cooking, maybe even a section just for native plants from the area I live.

3) At the same time as wanting a tiny home, I also know that I will one day have children, and hopefully a partner to raise them with, and many dogs; so I realise I will have to graduate to a home one day. It is in this home that we’ll have a fireplace and an open plan bottom floor. Big windows will let in the natural light and the floors will be real hardwood. My kids will make forts under the stairs (pretending to be Harry Potter, eventually we’ll make this our reading nook, it was wasted space anyway) my dogs will sprawl in the space between the kitchen and living room. It will be quaint and cozy.

4) In this home my partner (or friends, who knows how I will raise my kids) have bought and made our own our furniture will be mismatched antiques. Bought from garage sales, and second hand stores (or habitat for humanity, I don’t waste an opportunity to help a good cause) and we will sand them and maybe repaint a few. But it will not match. We’ll have 4 or 6 different dining chairs none of which match the table, our couches will be covered in pillows we make ourselves. Our dressers won’t match the bed. But it will be home; cozy and unique like we enjoy living our lives.

5) To live within convenient walking distance to a fresh market, or a farm/farmers market. Somewhere that sells seasonal produce so that I might learn to cook like that. But also because I enjoy eating things like bananas and romaine lettuce, but bananas ripen all together too quickly to eat, and running into the store every other day for lettuce and or a single banana is just a little silly to me. Especially because I (currently) have to take 2 buses to get there.

6) I will live in a neighborhood where instead of family at every other door in the street it’s my friends. Ones I trust and who have similar ideals to me, about raising our kids and having dogs, and saving the environment and being politically involved. Where my kids are “going to aunty Sarah’s house” even though we’ve never been related, or “are hanging out with the cousins” even though I only have one sister.

7) On that note, having enough money to give my sister the home she deserves, even if she’ll be 18 at the time would be nice. That’s a dream that isn’t all that far off, just four years really. And of all of them might be the most achievable.

8) To go camping at least once a month. To get into a car and drive for a few hours in no particular direction. Find a site, or hike to it, and sit under the stars. Just my dog(s) and I, and perhaps a friend or two.

9) To have a bicycle that fits my height and live in a space I feel safe to ride it in. Perhaps with fewer cars, where most of the people around me do the same. Maybe even one of those basket bikes, so I can shop, and carry young children or dogs or camping gear or anything. That’d be a nice thing.

10) And because I like to round things out neatly, in the house I have one day, for this I am sure I will own with hard work and good investment (regardless of if I had to build the tiny home myself, or renovate our cozy home with my partner) I want a large bay window filled with green. Flowers and plants will fill this window, letting in filtered green light. Catching warmth on long leaves and round ones; through pale red and blue petals, and off of thick succulent leaves. This window will frame my home with it’s hanging baskets of green and gold and purple and yellow. It will welcome everyone. With large cwtchy chairs and couches, my loved ones will gather here, with cups of tea and coffee, or juice if they prefer, and my dogs and cats will curl at their feet (or mine, if my friends would really prefer to avoid the hair).

The North American Hero Complex.

I want to preface this post with this: I am Welsh-Canadian and as such I have a pretty limited scope to be pulling from. This article is being written from the viewpoint of a Canadian living, Welsh-raised, Environmental Studies student. So while I am making a rather large (and problematic in some cases) broad assumption about North American stereotype it is in no way intended to offend, but simply bring to light a very serious question.

That question being: is the N.A. hero-complex detrimental to environmentalism (that being conservation, restoration, and policy implementation in the efforts to maintain and ‘save’ the planet)?

I read a post on tumblr (yes I know, prime research resource) that really got me thinking. The be all and end all of the thread was that America per-capita has the highest rate of firefighter death worldwide. And the rate of casualties wasn’t limited to firefighters.

Some resources to kind of outline the issue.


LODD statistics for USA Law enforcement

Statistics builder of US firefighter deaths

Officer Fatalities per year USA



Statistics Canada Officer homicide rates (1961-2009)

Officer Down Memorial

*Note: LODD is the abbreviation I’ll use for ‘Line of Duty Deaths’ from here out.

Now the tumblr post insinuated that the reason for this is very simple, that North America is bred up with the idea of heroism, that the biggest honour is to die in the line of duty or in the service of another. The American dream is built on (in a lot of ways) and includes heroism and rushing in to save the day. Little heroic efforts to ‘change the world’ so it seems.

The media propagates this idea, society feeds it with stories and honouring the fallen. I’m not saying that is a bad thing, there IS honour in dying to save another but the problem is how deeply ingrained this idea is and how dangerous.

Think of it this way, the entire idea of a Hometown Hero surrounds the idea that a young person reaches their pinnacle before 18. Yet in the statistics builder I listed above, ‘hometown hero’ is a count of LODD. To me it’s a telling statistic of US/North American hero-complex culture. Young people dying in the LOD even when it isn’t their duty is a normality enough that they have a statistic.

Another interesting stat is that from 2009-2014 there are an average of 554 LODD in the USA and of those between 17-32 (per year) are Hometown Heroes. Interestingly enough, stress and overexertion are by far the HIGHEST causes of death across all 4 years. It’s another statistic that makes me wonder about the enforced hero-complex of NA.

Especially since looking at RCMP, since the 1870’s there’s only been a total of 222 officer deaths in Canada, but between 1870 and 1871 the USA has already overshot that by over 100. And between 1961 and 2009, 133 police officers were murdered in the line of duty in Canada, but between the same time something to the tune of over 8000 officers were killed in the US.

*Note again this is just from my preliminary research and finding relatable stats is very difficult when police/emergency service/militaries of these two countries are very different

Of course the statistic is somewhat skewed by population density but still the number is rather harsh.

So, with that out-of-the-way (and congrats if you’ve made it this far) my question.

We have such a drive to save the planet, I do as well I want a career of it soon, but mostly this drive comes from self-interest and not in the interest or duty to another person. Other than, perhaps, our future children/future of the planet.

I mean, we rush into restoration, rehabilitation and relocation projects  with fever, and a lot of the times these do more damage than good. They’re band-aid solutions we dive headlong into.

And I’m not just making wide and exaggerated claims to support my point. I think by now we’re all pretty familiar with the baby bison that was euthanize because of some ‘good Samaritans’? If not here’s a link:

SourceFed’s Video

A short article of the incident

Good intentions and split-second decision-making are good things. Don’t get me wrong. We need them in a lot of ways (whether they be in life-or-death emergency respondent duties, or in making a change for the environment) but they are dangerous.

Had the couple through it through, realised that the bison a calf or not is a wild creature that is fortified for the cold wilderness, he may have survived, and never been rejected by his cow. And this incidents happen often. Saving baby birds, pulling caterpillars off of trees. They all equate to an ingrained curiosity and intense hero-complex.

Not only is this kind of action detrimental to the health of the ‘rescued’ flora/fauna/biome, but it is also detrimental to other efforts. If people continue this kind of attitude, then it becomes impossible to allow for any human interaction with protected sites.

If even one of every thousand guests to a national park ended-up inadvertently killing a young animal or rare plant it would be impossible to keep publicly accessible parks open, instead land would be shut down to public access. This might not seem all that terrible but think a bout it.

If ALL national parks were shut down and became inaccessible preservation, how successful would they be?

Not very. Not only would public opinion be unfavourable or unsupported, but we are at a point where we as a society really cannot afford to live in a world where fragments of ‘true nature’ are isolated from us.

Water cycles through the planet endlessly; our synthetics will reach those isolated fragments.

Air is ever-moving around the planet; our synthetics will reach those isolated fragments too.

Not only thus, but we humans ARE a part of nature and to isolate ourselves from it is just as dangerous as any other option. Education would be impossible without seeing and interacting though being so hands on and ‘hero’ like is NOT the same as ‘interaction’ with nature.

Another issues of course is that isolating fragments of nature behind fences is dangerous to genetic flow. Already all over the world (Europe especially) land masses are fragmented by urban infrastructure and leaves many flora and fauna in a spiral of limited populations because they have nowhere to go, no means to jump between patches of habitat, no corridors and no options. Isolating and absolutely irradiating the spread of flora and fauna isn’t going to work.

Allowing a culture where we feel duty bound to personally interfere with the world around us, without contemplation or planning is dangerous, and will eventually lead to irrevocable damage to out planet.

We cannot wait to take environmental action this is true, but a few years, a few months, a few weeks, hell, even a few SECONDS of extra consideration as to WHY and HOW you’re taking action could save not only an entire population, but a single creature’s life; maybe even yours.

So, to end. Do I think that the North American Hero Complex is a danger to environmentalism?

Yes. Our fast and loud attitude to solving problems in our environment (including and certainly not limited to police work, and firefighting) is leading to premature death and premature actions and implementation and it’s not working, and won’t work any longer. I think we need to keep asking WHY we want to act so fast when a band-aid solution usually leads to an unnecessary death or injury.

And the next one to suffer will be the planet.