Maybe I Wasn’t Depressed. Maybe I Just Needed to Leave the House

Can you imagine growing up in an always sunny, always warm city like Miami and still ending up depressed?

I can.

Whenever people think about Miami, they picture beaches, nightlife, palm trees, girls in bikinis, yachts, and a permanent vacation destination. What they usually do not picture is a teenager sitting alone in her room because she physically cannot go anywhere without asking for permission, borrowing a car, calculating gas money, or mentally preparing herself for an hour of traffic.

That was my version of Miami. And I didn’t realize how much my lack of access to transportation had affected me until I moved away. It wasn’t until I moved to New York and started taking the subway by myself that I realized how much of my life had been shaped by my inability to get around.

I grew up outside the flashy parts of Miami. Once you start getting deeper into the suburban areas of South Florida, life becomes incredibly car-dependent. Add in the fact that, as a teenager without a car and in a place designed entirely around driving, your world becomes very small very quickly.

Unlike some of the kids growing up in New York City, I could not just leave the house after an argument and walk to a bookstore or library to cool off. The nearest library was miles away. Going to school alone would have been impossible. My high school was at least a twenty to thirty-minute drive away without traffic, and this is Miami we are talking about, so there was always traffic.

When you live in a car-centric city where public transportation either barely exists or comes so infrequently that it might as well not exist at all, you end up trapped in these tiny invisible circles.

Suddenly, your whole world becomes home, school, maybe one strip mall or shopping plaza, and back home again. That’s it.

People online love talking about the importance of “third spaces” for young people. If I was not at home or school, my third space was probably the backyard or the bathroom.

When you are a teenager or in your early twenties, movement is freedom. It’s being able to leave the house after a bad day and walk somewhere without asking permission. It’s being able to meet a friend on a whim instead of coordinating schedules, cars, and parking. It’s discovering parts of your city simply because you were curious enough to wander into them.

Without that freedom, your life can start feeling emotionally claustrophobic. Worse, if you were coming from a strict immigrant or Caribbean household, the situation somehow became even more exhausting.

Leaving the house was never just: “I’m going out.” It was always an interrogation.

• Where are you going?
• Who are you meeting?
• How long will you be there?
• Who are their parents?
• What do they do?
• What is their educational background?

To this day, I still remember answering those questions to attend Bible study twice a month after pandemic restrictions lifted in 2021. I was not even particularly religious. I just desperately wanted somewhere else to exist besides my house. Then, if you successfully survived after the interrogation, there was still the emotional marathon of actually getting there.

The traffic. The parking. The stress of staying out “too long.”

The calculations of where they’re leaving fifteen minutes later would somehow add another forty minutes to the drive home. Eventually, going out stopped feeling spontaneous and started feeling like a military operation. Forget auditioning for the FBI. Navigating freedom and suburban Miami already felt like a covert operation.

Which is why I think more young people are beginning to talk openly about how emotionally draining car dependency actually is. Apparently, this conversation is becoming bigger than just me complaining about Miami traffic.

In 2024, a report discussed by the Union of Concerned Scientists called for the United States to reform overly car-dependent transportation systems, arguing that heavy reliance on cars creates financial strain, environmental problems, and barriers for communities that lack accessible transportation options. According to the report, the average American household spends about $17,000 per year on transportation. I believe it.

Because when you are young and living in a car-centric city, transportation becomes closely tied to important aspects of your life, such as your social life, finances, and opportunities. You need money for gas, insurance, parking, repairs, and for Ubers when you do not have access to a car. Without those things, isolation can arrive surprisingly quickly.

Especially for Gen Z, where many young adults are already struggling financially while living at home longer than previous generations. Looking back now, I think part of my depression came from feeling emotionally stuck in a city where movement required money, permission, energy, and planning every single time.

Ironically, I did not fully understand this until I moved to New York.

The first time I could take a test independently and get somewhere without asking anyone for help genuinely improved my quality of life. Not only could I leave whenever I wanted, but I could also go wherever I wanted. Sit in parks, visit book stores, meet friends, explore neighborhoods, and disappear into the city for a few hours after a bad day.

I think I realized I was finally becoming an adult the first time I spontaneously took the subway to watch a 7:00 p.m. movie on a random work night and came home around 11:00 p.m. without anybody interrogating me. The next moment was spent on the Fourth of July at Coney Island from 2 p.m. until nearly 2 a.m., riding rides at Luna Park and waiting for the fireworks. It was also spending an entire day on Governors Island doing nothing but biking around and journaling.

It was having the opportunity to explore a neighborhood, visit a bookstore, or sit in a park for an hour, and simply doing it. None of those moments was particularly extraordinary. That’s exactly why they mattered.

Maybe that sounds a little dramatic to people who grew up with that level of independence their entire lives, but for me, it felt revolutionary. Existing outside of my home no longer required an entire strategy meeting.

Now, I am not pretending I have the perfect solution for America’s transportation problems. Nor am I suggesting every experience of depression can be explained by geography or transportation. But looking back, I can’t ignore how much my environment contributed to my feeling trapped. All I know is that once I experienced living in a city where I could move through the world independently, I realized how psychologically important that freedom actually was.

I’m also acknowledging that it could be a factor as to why so many young people today feel restless, isolated, and emotionally stuck. Not because they are lazy or failing. But because so much of modern American life still requires money, access, permission, and a car to participate in the world around you.

In the meantime, I will continue to enjoy my spontaneous late-night subway rides, solo movie theater trips, and the small luxury of leaving my apartment without turning it into a full production.