Recently I was returning to the flat from a short trip: tired, in considerable pain, and not feeling particularly well, or well disposed to the world in general: I just wanted to be left alone to deal with my intense discomfort, and get to where I was headed do that I could take some pain medication (which I loathe) and sleep. It was a very busy journey, and I found myself seated beside someone who obviously subscribed to the 'space invader' school of travel. A young man who proceeded to flop into the seat, legs akimbo, and arms spread, to the point where I was crammed awkwardly into the very corner of what was left of my own seat, pinned there by his knee and elbow, for the entire remainder of my journey. by the time I DID get to my destination, I was in agony: so stiff I could barely place one foot in front of the other, and unable to close my fingers around the handle of my stick, let alone cope with the pain of using it.
I'm aware that this sounds like the bad-tempered ranting of a middle aged woman unhappy with the 'youth of today'. It really isn't, While the ignorance and lack of consideration of that young man was breathtaking. It actually started a line of thought that had me considering quite a few things, including the way I not only travel, but see my world.
I am English. Not just British, but English specifically, and I am very aware that The English as a group are seen in a particular way by people in many parts of the world. Very repressed: reserved. prim... so we aren't usually seen as sprawlers: more the 'knees together, back straight' type, carefully pulling in elbows and bags and any protruding knees, in order to both avoid invading anyone else's personal space, and to protect and define our own. We aren't really keen on sharing small spaces with others - how silent are we in the confines of a lift, for instance? how carefully do we avoid eye-contact? But when we are forced to do so, we also have a tendency to mark out tiny territories for ourselves, with carefully drawn and marked borders. Heaven help anyone who takes up more than half the seat we were forced to share with them on the full bus, or stands too close in the slow-moving queue. I know that I have particular issues with having my overly large personal space impinged upon: it makes me anxious, uncomfortable. I inevitably have to move, even if the only leeway I have is an inch or so, and I end up squashed awkwardly against a window or arm-rest, I have to do my best to get away from the invader, Often if I can't, I will actually get up and leave the bus/queue/room: but in situations where that is not possible, I either spend the entire time I am subject to it sitting or standing rigidly at attention, terrified to relax, or trying my best to escape into my head so that I don't have to deal with the physical indignity. My responses are, I know, fairly extreme, and a result of PTSD caused by years of trauma. Still, it is interesting to watch people from some other countries and cultures being so much more uninhibited and relaxed about making casual knee to knee contact, or bumping shoulders with strangers. Part of me thinks that if you grow up in a vast country with huge cities full of large spaces, you don't feel the need to make yourself small: you sprawl like your surroundings do.. whereas in a tiny country with a large population, where space is limited, and everything from houses to cars are so much smaller, there is maybe an inbuilt need, if not an obligation, to take up less space: to maintain your privacy, and to make sure you offer as much of that as you can to the person next to you, who is just as uncomfortable as you are at the enforced intimacy that such crowding can cause. I'm also aware that as a child, I also felt the need to be small.. tiny.. because that made me virtually invisible to some people, and kept me safe. I have come to realise that its a talent I have carried with me into adulthood.. that I can be sitting alone in a room, and yet if someone comes to look for me, they won't see or find me, because I have learned to blend so completely into my surroundings.
The Man tells me often, that when I sleep, I curl into a ball so tight that he can see the strain in my joints.. that my hands ball into fists, my jaw clenches, and I breathe so shallowly and silently that he has to check that I'm still alive. I hide, even when sleeping so deeply that I don't wake when he tries to ease me into a less painful position. Now, I'm realising that I do the same when I travel. I sleep atop the covers of hotel beds, and move so little (if at all) that the bed does not appear slept in. I make myself small enough on buses and trains that people often don't notice that I'm there. And while I relish being left alone and being unobtrusive it also makes me a little sad sometimes, that I can't relax even when I'm away from the things that most scare me
The Man tells me often, that when I sleep, I curl into a ball so tight that he can see the strain in my joints.. that my hands ball into fists, my jaw clenches, and I breathe so shallowly and silently that he has to check that I'm still alive. I hide, even when sleeping so deeply that I don't wake when he tries to ease me into a less painful position. Now, I'm realising that I do the same when I travel. I sleep atop the covers of hotel beds, and move so little (if at all) that the bed does not appear slept in. I make myself small enough on buses and trains that people often don't notice that I'm there. And while I relish being left alone and being unobtrusive it also makes me a little sad sometimes, that I can't relax even when I'm away from the things that most scare me
