Lost property | A lesson I'm taking with me

A few months ago, I left my favourite shoulder bag on the London Overground. Worse than just losing the beloved bag itself was the realisation that I was without its contents: my debit card, drivers licence, and essential medication. 

Since the Overground train heading to Dalston Junction, I’d already switched lines twice, only realising I was one bag lighter when the doors of the tube shut at Waterloo and the Northern line began to rattle towards Embankment. Cue instant panic, muttered swearing, and intense rifling through my other, less favoured bag, that contained none of my essential items (just in case!). Under the gaze of my compartment companions as I disturbed the Sunday morning chill of underground travel (yeah, right), I announced the reason for my sudden behaviour to my friend, promptly bid her goodbye and best wishes for her day at work, and stepped off the carriage at the next stop, already retracing my steps in my head.

After approaching TFL workers on the platform and being sent above ground to speak to someone at a desk, I was sent back down to return to Waterloo, where they would be able to contact the previous station I’d changed at. I tried to picture how I’d gotten myself into this situation. One thing I am very consistent in doing when I stand up in public – such as on a train, or at the theatre – is taking a brief, anxious look back to check I haven't left anything. I tried to imagine myself doing this on the Overground in the past half hour, and my mind came up blank. By the time I got to Waterloo, my face had dried and flooded several times over.

I blurted my story for the third time to an empathetic worker, who instantly began to take action. At the mention of ‘medication’ they were especially keen to help. They passed the issue on to the control desk and I waited to hear more as they contacted my previous station to see if anything had been handed in along the Overground line, and even tracked down the train’s current location to send someone on board to look. I could see the bag in my mind, its cord body blending into the faded orange and brown moquette of the seat. The longer I waited for an update, the more times I saw it picked up by a stranger, my bank card used to tap out, any hope of having it back over my shoulder dissolving into the distance.

After a while, I was told the best course of action was to log what I’d lost online along with my contact details. At the top of the escalators, I pinned down some of the feelings that were evoking my emotional response (besides the obvious loss of several valuable items): it was frustration and regret I felt for not taking the second look back that I almost always do, the confusion of having something suddenly disappear, and the disappointment that there was no immediate solution to recover my belongings. Losing my bag, and losing the hope of finding it, made me realise how easy it is to take things – such as the safety of my belongings – for granted.

Standing watching the ceaseless parade of people pass through the station, I also felt embarrassed and ashamed. In less than three months, I would be embarking on a journey to the other side of the globe, alone. How could I trust myself to go, when I couldn’t trust myself to keep track of my most essential belongings?

Although I had an idea of the administrative tasks that awaited me to take control over the situation, I felt overwhelmed by them, and decided to do what I usually do in uncertain situations. I called my mum. Over the phone, she was empathetic, and a reassuring voice that confirmed exactly what I thought I needed to do next. She also said something else, which I hadn’t considered. She told me to make sure this experience didn’t ruin my weekend.

This moved me instantly, because I was about to do exactly that. Feeling like a failure, an inexperienced adult who couldn’t hold themself together at the slightest hiccup, I was ready to throw the towel in on my weekend away and crawl away in defeat. Instead, thanks to this comment, when I hung up the phone I charged into my necessary tasks. I cancelled my debit card, figured out how to access the money I’d need, located a pharmacy to get an emergency prescription for an EpiPen, and froze my Oyster Card for good measure.

Tackling the steps I had to to regain a sense of control over my situation, however daunting they felt at first, reminded me that it is possible to create solutions – even if that solution isn't the most ideal. Losing my bag had consequences, but that meant all my actions do. I wasn't stuck with the loss of everything; I could find a way to minimise these losses and regain control.

Taking action to solve my problem reminded me of my power; it empowered me. Although I still felt somewhat ashamed, regretful, and just plain silly for my mistake, and my (however valid) panicked reaction, I was almost grateful that this experience happened when it did. If, like many people say, everything happens for a reason, then I lost my bag so I could recognise my own power, what I am capable of, and learn another piece of wisdom from my mum. And, having the experience so fresh in my memory, I can make sure I don’t repeat this mistake somewhere where the consequences might be bigger.

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Armed with this lesson and the excitement for more, I'm on my way to Australia today. See you from the other side!