As a psychologist, I have been listening to myself prescribing this one to the masses recently. It’s an underrated verb, “sobbing in subways.” Between heartbreaking wars with ourselves and each other, there are indeed many things to be sobbing about, both in public and in the libidinal spaces of subways.
In some cities and lands, both near and far, far away, inhabitants have the sheer luxury of abundant space and privacy. Can you imagine? In New York City, space is for the pigeons.
While, as a species, we do, indeed, long for some semblance of privacy, in New York City, those dreams remain as part of a communal longing that we call Undoing aloneness in AEDP (a therapy), that is, we are wired for love, while also craving separateness and sanctuary.
What if we could drive home from work like people in other far-off lands? Would we feel as connected to one another? The emotional sobbing is “collective effervescence” (in Durkheim’s definition) of a world very much at war with itself. That is, the rest of the subway car throbs around us suddenly.
In subway terms, for the sobber, there is a profound release. A tango in which the sobee receives a knowing and unintrusive, “You okay, girl?” We all could use that comforting look, now more than ever.