The Girl on The Train

As I’m on my 100^th plus ride back to the city I got to thinking about how much of a commonality this train ride has become to me at this point, triggering the reminiscent mindset, and got me back to thinking of my first train ride when I decided to move to NYC.  The girl on that train was completely and utterly terrified, but overwhelmingly excited and curious about what was to come.

I can remember trying to fight back tears (yes I do shed those occasionally) when I turned around and saw my parents walking back down the stairs, to their home, back to my friends and family I’ve grown up with, back to comfort and security. I remember almost second guessing the move but that quickly got erased with the Holy #$*%#)$(@#) I actually did it, I jumped and now I have to figure out how to not plummet to the ground and land in a pile of shi, alone.

I think a lot of people look for clarity in a big transition; it’s just a way of providing comfort to make one feel as if they are doing the right thing.  I honestly didn’t seek clarity, because I didn’t know what I was doing, or what to expect. I knew I was moving in with a stranger, I knew I was starting a new job with new coworkers, I knew I wanted to and still thrive on feeling uncomfortable and not knowing or planning what will come next.

I can remember getting off the train, lugging my enormous suitcase up and down the stairs, and finally getting out and standing @ Penn Station, lost, of course, looking for my girl J Grove, and just feeling complete, that at that moment, that was exactly where I was supposed to be. Every situation, move, heartbreak, loss, gain, fell directly into place, and happened at the exact moment and time it should of, and got me to the insanely chaotic, pissed scented, light illuminated streets of NYC, where I was meant to be.

Whenever I’m surrounded by strangers, my mind often drifts and I begin to wonder what their story is and was. It’s something I’ve done since I was a little girl and the curiosity has only continued to grow. With this mindset I began to think of what a stranger looking at me would think or summarize.  This is my story:

The Girl on the Train, heading back to NYC 3 years later, is now juggling between compiling a spreadsheet, answering emails and inquiries and trying to ensure all devices are properly charged. She is getting heart palpitations in the event that she is now making her second move from Queens to Hoboken and has 4 days to pack up, again, and venture into her next journey. She feels accomplished, responsible, proud, driven but just as confused, anxious, unsure, and nervous of what is to come as she was when she first stepped onto the platform 3 years ago.

That stranger I moved in with turned into a sister, the first job sucked, but turned into a learning experience and was my first inch of growth in realizing I needed to grow a pair to survive, I've met the best people whom I now consider family and have learned to live independently, stand on my own two feet, and depend on only me myself and I. 

The past few years have been some of the most trying, nerve racking, exhausting, exciting and terrifying days of my life. I have experienced, loved, hated, grown, partied, died, and put myself out there in a way that was both genuine and deceiving, but would not have been possible If I didn’t take that step. 

The irony in that one step is that you can and I will always backpedal. You begin to cherish those times home more than you would expect. The Girl on the Train just watched two of her good friends walk down the isle, celebrated with friends she’s known since elementary school, sat with her mom watching TV, and drove with her dad back to the station where it all began, back to being the Girl on the Train.

-AcA