The coffee shop as therapy…
I have a few cafes in the city that I love, but perhaps my favourite is one of a small chain set up by a local entrepreneur. The particular cafe in question is on a busy shopping street in the city. It has a floor to ceiling glass frontage which looks out directly onto the street. I usually visit on a weekend and if it is available, I’ll sit at the table next to the window. I put away my phone and stare out the window, watching people, cars and buses go past. I’ve sat at that table and looked out at the street when it’s been scorching hot, blowing a gale, driving rain and even covered in snow.
It’s the only time that I really notice things about the city and its inhabitants. The trees across the road that are always changing colour. The buildings above the shop fronts in their Georgian splendour. The diversity of people walking past. I have picked up some style inspiration from some of the people that walk past the cafe. I’ve looked enviously at couples walking hand in hand. I’ve rolled my eyes at groups of lads, slightly worse for wear, on a pub crawl. Families, young and old. People walking their dogs and other people going about their business solo (like me). All of life walking past the window.
The music played in this cafe, mostly indie bands, is not usually my jam, but it works nicely with the atmosphere of the place. It’s loud enough to make out the lyrics over the din of the conversations or the sound of furious typing on laptops. The cafe feels like a relaxed and happy place…even the staff always seem to be in a very buoyant mood. The place feels like a break from the world…or perhaps I mean life..?
I find there to be something very therapeutic about this cafe. In a way it provides a lot of the same conditions that characterised my experience of therapy. I decided to enlist some professional help for a short time a few years ago when I was struggling a little bit following my divorce. A clinical psychologist and one hour per week. To try and understand the inner workings of my mind. To check that I wasn’t, in fact, going mad and if indeed I was, how do I stop it? What I got was time and space dedicated to letting my emotions be ‘heard’, to identify themselves, to address them directly, process them and release them.
When it was over, I missed that weekly time and space to just be quiet, to work out what I was feeling, who I was, what I wanted…something that felt marginalised and pushed to the back of the queue in every day life. It’s very difficult to take time for some introspection and self awareness when you’re on the treadmill of work meetings, emails, deadlines, household chores, family events…especially if you’re the kind of person who likes to use these things to avoid having to confront the wounded parts of ourselves.
So now I use the cafe as my (usually) weekly therapy session. I never take anything that could be considered work to the cafe. I don’t want to ruin it. It is a sort of sacred space. I can think clearer staring out the window of the cafe than I can at home. It feels like hitting the pause button. An opportunity to take stock. Allow the mind some space, for feelings to bubble up and for emotions to be heard. Devoid of all the usual distractions…YouTube, WhatsApp, Buzzfeed Quizzes, emails, housework…the list goes on!
I always look forward to my weekly visit to the cafe (although the coffee and chocolate cake might have something to do with it!) It is an escape. Admittedly a relatively short lived escape and not even a mile from my home, but an escape nonetheless. And in the current climate where we’re stuck at home and cannot travel very far, this little escape feels more important than ever.
