Traversing New Horizons

It was 6 am, but still pitch dark out, and chilly. I was alone, by myself, straddling my enormous duffel bag. I looked up at the security camera, hoping it worked. I took a selfie, in case I disappeared. I could see and hear a few people here and there in the shadows, mostly blue collar workers with their lunch bags scurrying to work. I wondered if I was being watched, head on a swivel, while trying to look calm, cool and collected. Am I crazy? Who gets on a random bus, by themselves and heads to a big city they had never been in?

It was only a short time ago when my heart would race, my palms would get sweaty, my ears would ring, and tunnel vision would set in. This is how I would feel when my anxiety took over. Something as simple as a busy Walmart, busy mall, or just someone raising their voice. I'd get all those feelings just before I hyperventilated or passed out (or both). It started off small, until it consumed me.

Now here I was, that same person, waiting under a dim light at an empty bus station in the dark, by myself. In my hands, bus tickets to New York.

I was a nomad in a sense, always moving around, but never truly leaving home. When I was younger, I always wanted to travel, but life and fear took over. This was my time, as afraid as I was, this was my time. I was still under the dim light, checking my tickets and my phone, when headlights of busses slowly started rolling into the station. How do I know if I'm getting on the right bus? I thought to myself. However, once I saw the bus, I knew it was mine. Here goes nothin'.

I boarded the bus with my giant duffel bag and found a seat in the front. I wanted to be near the driver, so I didn't feel so lost and alone. As the bus pulled away, I felt sick, panicked. Anxious. I took another picture to record my journey (and for evidence, you know how those crime shows go). I was so naive, every city we stopped in, I thought I was there. I also thought, it's not too late to get off here. But I couldn't do it, I had to follow through. I was sick of my fear being in the way of my dreams, of me living my life. For years, my life was someone else's. My life revolved around my kids, their schedules, their likes and interests. My jobs were my parents dreams for me, jobs they wanted me to work. Not to sound selfish, but none of it was about me, none of it was for me. This trip, is about me. I responded to a call for models, and I was accepted. I always wanted to model, but was told I was too short, too heavy, not pretty enough, etc. This agency, didn't think so. It was time I see for myself.

City after city we stopped. Every city, I wondered "Is this my stop?" How will I know? Then I saw sign after sign for New York. Once you arrived, you knew. I'd never been, but I knew I was looking at Manhattan and the 5 Burroughs. We passed Harlem, Queens, Brooklyn and so on. It was like Boston, but on a grander scale. There was so much to take in. We arrived at the giant bus station. Where I lived, our bus station was a trailer in a parking lot. This station, looked like an airport terminal. This was my stop. But where do I go?

My knees were weak, palms were sweaty, heart pounding, and tunnel vision began to set in. I didn't know where to go. I started to panic. I took a deep breath, and watched the crowd. I followed the crowd into the station, found a wall to stand against and took it all in. Enormous. Overwhelming. I had to stop and take it all in. Before I went anywhere, I needed to figure out what I needed. I needed to know where to take the bus home, I needed food, I needed a bathroom. Slowly, I acclimated myself to the station. It didn't feel so big and scary anymore. I kept my bag close to me and stayed alert. I found my way to the city level and stepped out.

Anxiety creeps back in. What am I doing? This city is massive, confusing, loud and everything moves so fast. I don't even know where I'm going, or how to get there. I step off to the side and breathe. I look at the studio directions. 4 Miles from here. I can try transportation or hike. I decided to hike and learn the city, while documenting it on the way. I pulled out my GPS, set it to walking, threw my duffel bag over my shoulder and walked off into this new world, all alone. Ironically, I fit right in. There were so many people that looked like me, carrying big bags, set about their day. I admired the big buildings, stores, and people. I'd stop at the few parks in between and art displays. Old buildings and graffiti. There was so much to take in. The weather was perfect. I stopped at a little breakfast place to freshen up and check in at home. I couldn't believe, I made it, I was here, by myself. I didn't even make it to the studio yet. I didn't even know if the studio was real or a trap. Just like anything else that's "dangerous", I just proceeded with caution.

Once I arrived at the studio, I knew it was real. The outside was a big brick building with large windows and beautiful plants. Traffic whizzed by as I sent my loved ones a quick video of my arrival at the studio. I was so sick with excitement and anxiety.

I walked up a few stairs to a hall. Down the hall were open doors on each side, each one was a room set up for a different photo shoot. It then opened up into a big room with backdrops, lighting contraptions, and flashes were going off everywhere. Suddenly, a guy stepped in front of me and asked which model I was, I gave him my name and signed a paper. He ushered me off to another side room that was lined with hair and make up stations. He introduced me to "Maya", as my makeup artist. While Maya took my measurements, I took in my surroundings. The room was a large open room with a giant brown leather couch in the middle. Large windows letting natural light in, while the city buzzed with activity. Large mirrors circled the room. Maya walked me over to my "rack". I had my own personal clothing rack, in which I could unpack my duffel bag and showed me the changing rooms. "Is this even real?" I said to myself.

I had 5 shoots, 5 outfits, 5 different hair and make up styles. I would get in my outfit, they would accessorize me, style my hair and make up and send me over to pictures. I'd go to one of the rooms, where the photographer would pose or instruct me how to pose. Not once were they unprofessional or inappropriate. I felt beautiful and confident. The staff even seems to over-compliment you to boost your confidence, but I didn't mind. When it was done, I met with an agent to discuss pictures and what I would do good at. The pictures were amazing. I'm officially a model! They gave me a portfolio and a personalized card to hand out for gigs and some leads to follow up on. When I left, I felt like a beautiful butterfly. My hair and make up was done, I was a new person shedding my old identity. This is me. This is who I am. This is what I wanted to do. To overcome those fears, and take control of my life, was a feeling I'll never regret. I don't regret not doing it sooner. I think I would've messed up my opportunity, I wouldn't have been prepared. I had to go through what I had to go through to get here, and truly appreciate it for what it is. If you follow your dreams, you're following your heart. If you follow your heart, you can't go wrong.