On facing your fears in a big city
Growing up protected in a small town, there’s one emotion I’m familiar with most of all- fear. Of the unknown, of putting myself out there, of being too much, of being seen. I feel like there’s something terrible waiting out there for me if I take even the tiniest step outside my little bubble. There’s an urge to run away, dragging on every inch of my body and it takes everything out of me to fight that voice. Unsurprisingly, this is a battle I’ve had to fight every single day since I left, in a million different ways.
For someone who had never been on public transport, or even navigated the streets on her own, moving to London was incredibly daunting. I remember how I felt coming back on a bus for the first time on my own, at night. I’d gotten off a stop earlier and had to walk ten minutes using maps just to find my place. It was terrifying but exhilarating at the same time. And yet, I felt like I’d unlocked a new part of myself.
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I remember my heart racing every time someone mentioned taking the tube. This was something I’d decided to avoid at all costs. Living alone? Sure. Cooking for myself? No problem. Staying out late at night? Scary, but doable. But taking an underground train? I drew the line there. The chaos, the crowds, the heat, was too much for me. And above all, the escalators, something I’d had an irrational fear of since childhood. In my head, I’d already decided that I would do anything except get on that monstrous moving staircase. The voice in my head had been way too overpowering for years. Every time I so much as spotted an escalator, I would start hyperventilating, to the point of feeling nauseous.
And yet, one day, after a conversation with a friend, something clicked in my head. This was stupid. Everyone else did this without a second thought, why couldn’t I? Why was I holding myself back, from seeing all those wonderful places, just because I was scared? So one day, when I had to go somewhere which was easily accessible by bus, I made my decision. I would take the tube and I would get on the escalator. Enough with the ease and comfort; I was done with running away.
It was far from easy. The voice in my head wouldn’t shut up. “Are you sure? There’s still time, turn back. It’s too dangerous, what if you get hurt?” It was terrifying and I wanted to stop, every step of the way. But I still walked on, as if to outrun the voice. The tube station was really crowded and I was getting late, giving me a chance to reconsider and just take the bus. But I powered on. Finding the platform and getting on the train was surprisingly easy. It was only when I got out and saw the escalator, with the ‘Way Out’ sign above, that my breaths grew quicker again. But I knew I had no choice. There was no turning back now. I was shaking, badly. But I stood on the metal edge, staring at the floor under my feet rising up and taking that dreaded shape, waiting for the right moment. Until I realised there was none. So I finally took that one step. And then the next. And that was all. A couple saw me shaking and asked if I was okay. And surprisingly, I was.
Walking out of the tube station into Angel, I felt like I’d broken free out of the clutches of something that had been holding me hostage for a long, long time. I’d taken the tube on my own, the one thing I’d sworn I would never be brave enough to do. But also, I wasn’t under any illusions. The fear wouldn’t be gone in one day. I’d have to keep pushing myself, keep fighting that voice. And if I could do it once, I could do it again.
