I first have to say that unfortunately this is not the view during my morning commute to work. For some it is, but I, on the other hand, travel away from the downtown Chicago- very, very far north to a land called Skokie. Oh, the stories I could tell you about the characters I see. I’m almost immune to it now, but in the first few months of moving here I was in disbelief that people like this exist. I must say that one of my favorites is the guy that sings reggae while waiting for the bus. He’s kind of cool, and far from the crazies that I see.
Anyways, my morning commute is a minimum of an hour, and consists of a 10 minute walk to the train station (which I enjoy), 20 minute Purple Line train, 5 minute Yellow Line/ Skokie Swift train, Starbucks run (optional, but necessary), 5-10 minute bus ride, and 5 minute walk into the office. In between each transfer is usually a waiting period, which is the cause of my frustration.
To make the best of this time, I read, write, study, listen to music, and/or daydream. Within the first week of moving here, I decided that I will not be one of those people making calls during this time. For one, you cannot hear people nor can they always hear you. Secondly, it’s is the most annoying & distracting this to listen to as a fellow passenger.
Anyways, I do a lot of thinking on the train- about anything and everything. Sometimes things will just pop into my head, randomly. It may be caused by a song I’m listening to, someone I just read, a dream from the night before or maybe nothing particular brought the thought on at all. Whatever it may be, most of my commute is spent thinking…and thinking… then thinking some more. (I just found this sketch at http://doryandfillet.wordpress.com. Check out her work! It’s truly awesome!)
That’s what happened this morning. I’m reading this book, Letters to God, and before I knew it I was thinking about my past. I’m not even sure exactly what caused the jump. In thinking about random, insignificant memories, I had this feeling like I was that girl again. I guess I should explain what I mean.
For the past couple of years I have been suffering from general anxiety. What exactly caused it? I’m not sure. I battled it in my teens years as well, but it really took a turn for the worst at OU. During that time I decided that I wanted to be someone else. Erase my past. Start fresh. New place. New people. New me. Foolish me to think it was that simple, and being naive enough to not realize that this belief was leading me to years of identity struggle.
When I finally came to my senses, I longed to be that girl again. I wanted to be ME. I knew that the girl I’d been running away from was me, and who I was as a result of my running was not. It’s mornings like today when I reconnect with her for a few minutes and wish that she’d stay longer. I wait (impatiently) for her to return. You know there are a few pictures in my apartment of ‘her’. Some days I’ll stare at them and she’ll look so familiar; while other days it’s as though I’m looking at a stranger. Whether I recognize her or not, I desire to be her. She looks so happy.
For awhile I used to think of myself as a dreamer. I’d get lost in my daydreams, wishing that they were my real life. But now that I’m older and making some of these daydreams a reality, I value this time that I can spend in thought; dreaming; wondering; reconnecting with myself. ♥ K