'Could you please move down?'
A far away echo – words yelled by just another, tired, mildly anxious, stressed somebody living the daily psychological torture that is commuting in the city. His words are muffled, I hear them from far behind my shoulders. I can tell he hasn't made it on board yet. Someone pushes the crowd crammed by the door a little further, just enough to get one last person inside the carriage. He didn't make this train. Who knows if he will make the next.
London can really turn people into the ghost version of themselves – into selfish, cynical, rushed, distressed, single individuals who feel they are constantly battling against the world. I sometimes surprise myself thinking, 'We are too many here, and between me and you, I choose me'. People are absolutely everywhere – so many that a feeling of oppression is truly physical, palpable. My hair got pulled many times by strangers trying to reach for the phone in their pocket. Many times I had no personal space in any direction, and my hands were dangerously close to someone else butt.
And oh, the rush. There are mornings when I wake up and all I do is avoid people. If you have ever been unlucky enough to be at Waterloo station at rush hour you'll know what I mean: people coming from all directions, going as fast as a bullet, following the same path every day, knowing exactly their route and hating every human or object standing in their way. It feels like being in a video game: you need prompt reflexes to avoid them at the last second while crossing your trajectory, or someone will be hurt. It's exhausting. It's sad. We are all fighting the same battle, it seems, but there is no space for compassion, or empathy. There is only the worry to tick all the checklist boxes for the day- to make it safe and sound to the next. Which is sadly going to look exactly like the one before.
I hate this version of myself – rushed, distracted, exhausted, selfish. Particularly as the holiday season approaches, I am trying to push myself away from it all as much as I can, because if I don't, I will eventually push away all that I care about instead.Food has always played a crucial role in keeping my mental health in line. The mere act of cooking something from scratch, albeit simple or familiar or even unimaginative, but with the power of making me immediately present to what I am doing, is the most relaxing activity I can think of.
