I was attacked last month in London...and it brightened my life
When I was in London last month, I felt that there was an ominous darkness enveloping the city in a gloomy misery.
London in January can be pretty demoralizing anyway given it's dark from about 9 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. and even when the sun is over the horizon, there's often thick grey clouds obscuring it. Then, even if it does peak out from the clouds, the narrow streets between lines of tall buildings are in the almost constant shadow of the low sun. It's cold, it rains a lot, it's windy. It's the kind of weather that can make one feel beaten down.
But of course, people in all the areas of the world where the winter nights are long have coped through various activities and habits that we know now through science can boost the "feel good" chemicals in our brains and bodies. Congregating with friends and loved ones, getting exercise, and staying moving (physically and figuratively) can all make that gloomy darkness feel tolerable, even cozy.
Covid restrictions have of course taken away so many resources for us all to keep our moods high and our mental health sound, such as going to the gym and yoga classes, meeting friends, and going to see a show at the theatre.
I know the UK isn't the only place to be dealing with this, and I know Covid isn't the only thing to take these pleasures away from us. There are of course people living in parts of the world that are dealing with wars and conflicts, with famine and drought, with political oppression and tyranny.
But compared to so many of the world's denizens, I am a pampered little princess, and so this experience of my beloved London turning to this dark dreadful place was a shock to me
And it became even more shocking when one evening on my way home from the shop, I was attacked.
Are you a member of Move With Adell yet?
Join my method for staying on track with feeling good, in your body and your mind.
Get unlimited access to a growing library of classes, workshops, workouts, tutorials, and a supportive community.
I was alone but I was on the high street in Queen's Park and although it was dark, there were several people about still. The man who attacked me first yelled at a woman walking ahead of me. For no apparent reason, as she walked past him, he yelled "You c**t!! Disgusting filth!" So as I walked past him, I looked at him and said, "Hey, have some manners, huh?"
He then turned his fury to me. I carried on walking home, but he walked alongside me for the length of the high street, yelling profanities at me and -- it sounds funny, and it kind of was -- he threw his sandwich at me. No, he didn't touch me physically. But the filthy and venomous words he shouted at me for the 5 minutes it took me to walk to my road, and the nearness of his face to mine, were enough to make me feel very, very threatened.
But I wasn't upset by him. He was drunk, and he obviously had some mental issues. If anything, I felt bad for the man. But what upset me was how everyone else on the street turned to see this man yelling at me, and did nothing. When he threw his sandwich at me, it nearly hit another woman, who did nothing.
As he began following me down my street, which was quieter than the high street, empty of people at the time, the threat I felt grew. So I yelled back at him. As loudly as I could I said, "PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE! I'M JUST TRYING TO WALK HOME. PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE!" I yelled it loudly in an attempt to bring attention to the other people. I wanted to ensure everyone around knew that this man was verbally attacking me, mentally ill, and at risk of physically attacking me.
Still, nobody did anything. I felt so, so alone.
The man yelled at me all the way until I finally ran ahead of him to put distance between us, so I could get into my flat and lock the door behind me.
I spent the rest of the evening crying, heartbroken not only that this poor man was in such a mental state that he acted this way, but simply devastated that nobody else seemed to care.
As I lay in my bed crying, it occurred to me that my grief was over the loss of kindness and inner warmth, not just in others, but in myself. My thoughts slowly developed from "why did nobody help me? What is wrong with people?" to "Why didn't I help the woman who this man first attacked?"
I realised that I was just as guilty of doing NOTHING to help my fellow humans that evening.
If I had acted with kindness, I wouldn't have turned to the man and said, "Hey, have some manners." I would have gone to the woman and said, "Are you alright?"
I was in my own cloud of darkness and brutality, and all I did was let it fester deeper in this poor sick man, and perhaps in this other woman.
So I decided not to be part of that darkness anymore.
The next day I got up and I made it my mission to do whatever I could to spread kindness and warmth and compassion to my fellow Londoners.
I walked down the street forcing eye contact on my neighbours so I could smile and say "Good morning!" I broke beyond my focus on my own little existence and began to notice the people around me and what they were doing, imagining what they were experiencing, looking to see if someone needed a hand with anything, or perhaps just a nod of recognition.
Now, I can't tell you if I actually helped anyone else. I may have just been that annoying overly-chirpy person that can be a bit much. But what I can aver is that MY mood changed entirely. I felt like the dark cloud of doom lifted. And of course it had, because it was only there in my own perception.
So, this attack — which luckily was just verbal and resulted in no real injury as far as I’m aware — was such a blessing and a gift. It reminded me that if you’re ever feeling glum, one of the best ways to feel brighter is to be the spark that ignites kindness.