When Traveling Gets Dark: A Travel Story

My time in Banff was a productive time for my writing, at least for the first few months. There were a couple of fun nights where me, Katelyn, Cain, and our fourth roommate, Phil, would go out together to play pool at a pub or dance at a club. Sometimes I felt like we were in the middle of “The Reckoning Song”. Those were wonderful nights. It was also cool how we shared similar tastes in music — we all had an appreciation for 60’s rock, 90’s grunge, and EDM.

The problem was that they wanted to have those kinds of nights all the time. It felt like the nights I did go out with them weren’t enough. In a place like Banff, many people party every night.

Going out once per week is considered “never going out” there. You might as well never go out if you’re only going to dance on the odd Sunday night. This rapidly turning cycle of fun, happiness, annoyance, stress, and guilt flooded my body with stress hormones.

A very dark chapter in my life was on the horizon as depression and anxiety set in. I remember wanting to leave and get to Vancouver before the winter hit, because I sensed something bad was about to happen. I knew I was depressed, but there was something more. Like if I didn’t leave, it would be really hard to get out. This impending doom was not a figment of my imagination.

As depression took hold, I let my workout routine slip. Health and fitness are the backbone of my mental health as well as physical health. I felt stuck, much like how I did right before I left my home city. That is a very dangerous place for me to be.

I wanted to leave and go to Vancouver where I knew I’d be happier, but I didn’t have enough money to leave and start a new life.

My low mood impacted how much I could work which led to a vicious cycle of working just enough to pay for rent and some food, but not enough to save up and leave. When you’re in that mode, it feels almost impossible to get out of it, like you’re trapped with no light at the end of the tunnel. By the time I realized I was in survival mode, it was already too late to try to prevent it.

One night, the darkness won. I was sitting on the couch with someone whom I’d had some difficult conversations with before and for some reason, I was expecting him to be civil with me that night since it was a party. He was so kind and interested in me when we first started talking, but the friendship turned into something menacing a few weeks after it began. In that moment, we were giving one another verbal jabs on the couch until he got up and handed me his beer.

“Hold my beer,” he said.

“No way in hell,” I said, walking away.

I was not well. Maybe it sounds childish, but in that moment, I felt very low. I started hyperventilating and was saying very bad things about myself and then I got the urge to do something that would hurt me. Katelyn was there in the kitchen with me and she was able to talk me down and guide me to my bed.

“Just rest and if you need anything, I’ll just be in the next room. Okay?” she said sweetly, tucking me in.

While her kindness and maturity de-escalated my moment of crisis, I was too restless to sleep. I sneaked out and went for a long walk around town. While it was late, there were still people out and about. It was surreal that I considered hurting myself just an hour ago, but Katelyn helped me. I needed an intervention, and she was there. She was a very good person.

The fresh air and movement did me some good while I was outside. I took some deep breaths, reminding myself of my dreams and goals — to publish many books and to live in Vancouver. I was learning how dangerous it can be to drink alcohol when I’m feeling down or anxious. With me, any emotion I’m feeling is intensified by strong drinks. If you are already feeling bad, drinking alcohol can make you feel worse.

On Halloween, I put on some special makeup and went out dancing with my roommates. Dressed as a cat, I felt cute. I remember how hard they tried to hype me up knowing I was sad about the falling out with that guy upstairs.

I felt like one of the characters I wrote about years ago in 2010. Back then I didn’t know what real depression felt like. I used to be curious to experience it, but it’s a hell I would not wish on anyone.

There are few things scarier than your own mind telling you that you’d be better off dead. Sometimes creatives glamourize darkness too much, but there is nothing romantic about depression. One minute you’re listening to a little too much Lana Del Rey and Nirvana and the next you’re fighting for your life.

That Halloween, I did my best to enjoy dancing at Hoo Doo. It was a place with so many good memories, but a strange haze hovered over it that night. When Avicii’s “Wake Me Up” started playing, the whole club went wild. I raised my hands, singing alone with the lyrics like many other people there. The song had been a club favourite for years. I remember when I first heard it — it was playing while I was out driving around with my sister and cousins. Especially in a place like Banff, pretty much everyone could relate to it.

On New Year’s Eve 2013, we all went up to the hostel where I used to volunteer. It was a pretty fun party though I couldn’t forget how happy I was there with my old volley group.

I remember dancing with a slim blond guy who looked almost like an angel — he was fine-boned with a chiseled face and should-length hair. Despite his stunning looks, I had a crush on someone else who I knew a lot better and kept looking around to see if I could find him.

I was so used to meeting or dancing with good-looking guys that it was starting to lose its excitement. Of course, meeting new and cool people is fun, but nothing beats a genuine connection.

When I took a break to get a drink of water, Katelyn came up to me and said she wasn’t having fun. We left the party early together. We walked down that iconic hill I’d been up and down so many times before. There was something magical about it that night in the brisk air under the stars. This time was different — it was the dawn of 2014.

“I’ll always remember spending the end of 2013 with you,” I said to her as we walked back to our home.

“Me, too,” she agreed. “I’m happy to be ringing in the new year with you.”

Some nights she wasn’t having fun and I’d go back with her when that happened. I owed her that. She saved my life. Katelyn needed people to sort her emotions out with. I seemed to sort mine out better when I had space. We sat on the couch chatting until around 1 AM then we went to sleep. At that time we were sharing a room.

Ken, a guy who lived downstairs, knocked on our bedroom door after we’d fallen asleep. He was playing a guitar and serenading me to open the door.

“Sara, sweetie, open up,” he called.

“Who is that?” asked Katelyn, going to the door.

I knew who it was. “Don’t open the door!”

“Stop being so fucking rude,” she scolded. “He’s here to play a song for you!”

When she let him step inside and turned on the light, his eyes were as cold as a villain played by Cillian Murphy. He looked like a blond version of the actor.

“Hey, just wanted to say happy new year to you,” he said coolly.

“Fine. I’ll be up in a minute,” I sighed.

He left to let me brush my hair and freshen up. Ken had done something against my consent a few weeks earlier in his room. I was drunk that night and no one believes drunk girls. I’m not complaining, I’m stating the truth. This is how social dynamics tend to work. No one wants to think that a cool guy is a rapist. I was just trying to stay away from him, but everyone in my group seemed to like him.

It was past 2 AM, though a few people were still up and drinking in our living room. Cain was back with some people from the other units.

“I’m sorry if you feel bad about the other night,” he said. “I know you’re not that kind of girl, but I’m that kind of guy.”

“Yeah I didn’t want that to happen,” I said, knowing that he knew what he did.

“It felt really good and I was wondering if you’d like to do it again.”

He really was clueless. Or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. People from the common room were teasing us while they still drank. I was drunk and tired and annoyed.

“Can we talk about this later?” I asked, backing away.

“Yeah. Just wanted to see you. Get some sleep,” he said, playing a song while walking away.

It was hard to move on from what happened when he would pop back into my life sometimes, but I did my best to shake him off. The problem is Katelyn and Cain were friendly to everyone — even to Ken after I told them what happened. I loved them as friends, I really did, but they helped enable bad behaviour from a guy we barely knew. I didn’t realize it then, but I was abandoned by the people I spent the most time with.

Instead of listening to me when I told them what happened and empathizing with what I went through, they chose to brush it off. I’d already been struggling with my mental health and that added another burden to the load.

A few people asked me why I was in his bed if I didn’t want anything to happen. Honestly, I was silly enough to believe he would respect my wishes to just cuddle.

“I just want to cuddle. I don’t want to do anything,” I said.

“Of course, we’ll just cuddle,” he lied.

How foolish of me. What that situation taught me is the lack of empathy many people have for women when they’re assaulted while drunk. If a woman’s attacked by a stranger while she’s jogging or walking home at night, most people will sympathize with her, but if she’s assaulted by someone she knows while drinking … Heaven help her because most people aren’t going to care; some will even blame her for it.

Would you like to catch up on my previous travel diaries? I have listed them in order below. Thanks for reading! ❤