I was cooking dinner in my apartment a few years ago. This was back when I worked at the science and nature center. The nature center was on a hill surrounded by several miles of trails, donated to the city by Dr. Eugene and Emily Leslie. I lived in a two bedroom apartment at the bottom of the hill with a friend who also worked there. That was a nice commute. 

I didn't sleep well while I lived there. The Amtrack trains rumbled by less than a block away every evening at 7:15 PM and big cargo trains again most nights at 2:00 or 3:00 AM. And as was typical of a younger me, I was having issues with my boyfriend at the time. I didn't know yet what it meant to really love someone. 

Bless my roommate's heart for tolerating my mental turmoil. 

I had a fear of trains. Well, maybe a part of me still does. Yesterday, I was walking with my current boyfriend to get tacos. As soon as we crossed the train tracks, the alarm bells started up, notifying us of the imminent arrival of the train. The train here isn't so loud during the day, just a little commuter train. I commented that I don't think I am too scared of trains anymore. He looked at me and asked if I would like to hold his hand. I held his hand and then we got tacos and ate them outside. Afterwards, we started to walk back and it started to rain. We had umbrellas, but the forceful wind kept inverting them. He told me to stand behind him so he would take the brunt of the sideways rain. What a guy. Life is less scary with great humans by your side. 

Anyways, I was cooking dinner in that apartment. And hadn't slept well in... months. I was at a breaking point. 

The next thing I remember - I was in the woods. On a familiar trail. And she was there. 

She walked beside me and said horrible things. She encouraged me to walk myself back down the hill and onto the tracks.

"You could face your fear by facing the train head on... if you let the train kill you, that would prove that you aren't scared of it."

I cried and begged her to leave me alone. I wanted to live. I wanted to thrive. 

I want to live. I want to thrive. 

I moved out of that apartment soon after. But didn't really confront that demon. 

It wasn't until this year that I turned to face her.

Last night I looked into her eyes -

I looked into the mirror, into my eyes

And said I love you 

And I gently put my hand on her cheek

And reminded her that she is beautiful 

And that she is cherished and that everything will be okay. 

I am beautiful and I am cherished and everything will be okay. 

I think perhaps I misunderstood what that voice in my heart was saying. Perhaps I was being told to die... but not physically die... just to let go of my preconceived ideas about who or what I am. I needed to let go of my identity. My ego needed to die. But my brain took that message and sent it through an anxiety loop until it manifested as a cruel tormentress. I played a sick game of telephone with myself because I didn't know yet how to listen. I'm still learning how to be a good listener.

But I am not afraid anymore. I don't need to be. 

I am not this or that. 

I simply... am. 

It is 4:00 AM here in Texas now and I am listening to the rain as I write. I couldn't sleep. Maybe because of the waning full moon or maybe because of the rumbling of the train a block away. The rain makes it sound like thunder, which I prefer to train sounds. But I normally sleep just fine these days. I suppose that means I'm healing.

Maybe another time I'll write more about why the trains freak me out. I have some serious baggage to unpack there. Writing is good therapy.