Ava Heartwell

Offices were where I first noticed how a space could quietly tax me — not through stress or workload, but through how my body felt after being there for a while.

I expected lower scores to instantly make me feel better. When that relief didn’t arrive, I worried something was wrong — until I realized that my nervous system takes time to catch up to the data.

Basements felt different to me long before I could explain why. The air felt heavier, my body felt more alert, and staying there for any length of time took more effort than I expected.

I used to analyze ERMI results in isolation, and it felt overwhelming. I discovered that discussing them with context, guidance, and perspective made the numbers far easier to understand and hold.

Bedrooms were the last place I expected to feel uneasy. They were quiet, familiar, and meant for rest — and yet my body often felt more alert, heavier, or less able to fully relax there.

I kept reading my ERMI results as if I had to hope for a particular number. What I learned was that letting go of the “good vs bad” mindset made the results clearer and less stressful.

Shared airspaces were harder for me to explain than enclosed rooms — not because anything looked wrong, but because my body felt subtly affected by spaces I wasn’t fully in control of.

I kept reading ERMI results as if they would tell me “safe” or “dangerous.” What I had to learn was that ERMI is descriptive, not decisive — and understanding that changed everything.

Enclosed rooms were where I noticed it most clearly — the way my body felt tighter, more restless, or less settled in spaces that were closed off, even when they were quiet and familiar.

I thought the numbers would give me a clear answer about staying in the house. What I realized was that ERMI is just one piece of information, and understanding what to do required reflection and time.