When Safe Places Stop Feeling Safe – A View from Vancouver
I used to believe that if you worked hard enough to build a life in a “good” neighborhood, you could create some sense of safety.
That’s why I chose Kitsilano in Vancouver.
That’s where I raised my child.
That’s where I felt, for a long time, that things were okay.
Yes, things happened over the years — a shooting on York and Cypress, a murder in a nearby building — but those felt like isolated incidents. Tragic, but not constant.
Now something feels different.
Yesterday, a man threatened a woman for her phone and tried to push over her stroller. She saved her baby. He got the phone.
That’s not just “crime.” That’s a breakdown.
And people are still acting like this is normal.
We Ignored What Was Happening
For years, what was happening in the Downtown Eastside was treated like it was contained. Like it would stay there.
But suffering doesn’t stay in one neighborhood.
When people don’t have housing, when mental health care is out of reach, when addiction is untreated — it spreads. Not because people are bad, but because systems are failing.
Now it’s everywhere. And people are starting to feel it.
Something Is Happening With Health Too
There’s another layer that people are afraid to talk about.
It feels like more people are getting sick — not just physically, but mentally.
- More dementia
- More confusion
- More people ending up in hospitals
- More families overwhelmed
And it’s not just a feeling — there are increases, but not always in the way people think.
In Canada:
- About 6–9% of seniors live with dementia, and that number is expected to rise as the population ages
- The overall number of dementia cases is increasing, partly because more people are living longer
- In British Columbia, the overall burden of dementia has been rising over time, especially in more vulnerable populations
At the same time, risk factors are also increasing:
- social isolation
- depression
- heavy alcohol use
- inactivity
So yes — more people are struggling. And families are carrying that weight.
But Why Does It Feel So Much Worse?
That’s the question no one wants to ask out loud.
Is it:
- The isolation and stress from lockdown years?
- Increased alcohol and substance use?
- Grief, loss, and economic pressure?
- A system that can’t keep up with demand?
Or something else?
People are noticing patterns, and when there are no clear answers, it creates fear — and sometimes suspicion.
But what we do know is this:
👉 Mental health needs are rising
👉 Access to care is not keeping up
👉 Families are being left to cope alone
And that creates visible breakdown in communities.
This Isn’t Just Policy — It’s Personal
While all this is happening, I’m packing my life into one suitcase.
I’m figuring out where I can stay next week.
I’m asking people for help and being told no.
I’m navigating situations that feel unstable and unpredictable.
This is what falling through the cracks actually looks like.
It’s not dramatic.
It’s quiet.
It’s humiliating.
And it can happen faster than people think.
We Can’t Ignore This Anymore
Some people say: “We need more police.”
Others say: “Just lock your doors.”
But that’s not a solution.
If we don’t address:
- housing
- mental health care
- addiction support
- community breakdown
then this doesn’t stop — it spreads.
Final Thought
This isn’t about blaming people.
It’s about asking: How did we get here?
Because once places that felt safe start to feel unpredictable, that’s not a small shift.
That’s a warning sign.
And ignoring it won’t make it go away.
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