A train journey from St Albans to Kingston. No big deal, nothing out of the ordinary, right? Probably not, for the average eighteen year-old; but for me, this was a big day. This would be the first time I went into London on my own and the first time I planned a journey for myself. A few months ago, when I was struggling to see how I'd make it through the day, I never would have imagined that I'd spend a Saturday morning giving customers a gait analysis in a running shop, followed by an afternoon and evening in London at a university art exhibition.
When my cousin's girlfriend suggested that I go to her end of degree exhibition, I agreed enthusiastically, but knew that in reality, it probably wouldn't happen. I didn't know where it was going to be held, but it seemed pretty unlikely that I'd manage to get myself there. Anyway, I'd almost definitely feel awkward and out of place. Assuming she'd just asked out of politeness, I forgot about it, until she got in touch nearer the time with a date and a plan. It was at Kingston University at the end of May and lots of her family were going too. Despite the voice that was screaming, "Tell her you can't! You won't make it there by yourself! You can barely even function on your own!", I said yes. I must have been feeling particularly brave that day. Once I'd officially committed myself, I started to really look forward to it, as I was excited not only about seeing her and my cousin, but also about seeing her work.
The evening before the exhibition, I researched my train journey and wrote down all the connections and changes on a post-it note. This in itself was new to me, as I'd always relied on other people to organise any travel arrangements. Even in doing this simple thing for myself, I felt more confident about it all and wondered why I hadn't done this before- there was no complicated formula to it that everyone but me understood. It was so easy and I realised that the only reason I hadn't done it before was lack of self-belief, rather than lack of ability.
Arriving at St Albans train station on Saturday, I felt very grown up. I was clutching my new purse as I walked in and looked up at the information board. In the past, I would have taken a step back at this point, allowing whoever I was with to check the train times and buy the tickets. About six months ago, I would have been too scared to queue up at the ticket office and ask for a return to Kingston, but now this felt completely normal. I got myself to the right platform and waited for the train. I realised that, although this felt like an adventure to me, to the majority of other people around me, this was just a mundane part of their daily routine. When I got on the train, I started reading a book that I'd brought with me. Before, I would probably have felt too self-conscious and embarrassed to do this, but this time I decided that nobody else is interested or bothered in the slightest in what I choose to do on the train; it's only me who thinks everyone else is laughing at me! Anyway, reading on the train is hardly out of the ordinary!
About 10 minutes before we actually arrived at King's Cross St Pancras, I put my book away and got my ticket out, so that I was all ready. (Hopefully in the future I'll learn to be a bit more relaxed and will get it into my head that the train is going to stay at the platform long enough for me to get out!) Thankfully, I'd been to St Pancras many times, so was quite confident that I knew my way to the underground, but I still followed the signs religiously, just to be certain! My parents had been sure to remind me to go Southbound on the Victoria line, something which they probably had reason to worry about, as in the past I would have just followed someone else and not noticed the different directions. I took the underground to Vauxhall, where I would then take the overground to Kingston. When I arrived at Vauxhall, I looked at my yellow post-it and saw that the connection I'd planned on getting wasn't leaving for another half an hour. Last year, I would have just accepted this and waited, but this time I checked the information board and saw that an earlier train on platform 8 to Strawberry Hill was also stopping at Kingston. While I was waiting for this train, I listened over and over again to the announcements, just making sure that I had definitely got it right! Once I'd heard the recorded voice say 'Kingston' for the third time, I was pretty sure it was going to be okay...!
When I arrived at Kingston, I decided that I fancied a cup of tea, so went to the little stall on the platform. For some unknown reason, I used to think that café owners would see me as a nuisance and a bother if I went up and ordered something. (Obviously, this is completely irrational, because most would be begging for customers!) But this time, I even had a little chat with the guy who made me my tea and found out that he'd been to his friend's art exhibition the weekend before! I left with a smile on my face, realising that having a short conversation with me was far from an irritation to him; in fact, it probably made his day just that tiny bit more interesting.
Now that I'd finally made it there, I was looking forward to getting to the exhibition and meeting some new people, which is something that would previously have filled me with dread. I was still a bit anxious about fitting in and knowing what to say, but I needn't have worried as everyone was lovely and made me feel so welcome. The exhibition itself was for the final-year university art students to showcase their work, so there was a lot going on. I hadn't really seen any of my cousin's girlfriend's work before, so it was amazing to see it displayed so professionally. Maybe I'm slightly biased, but hers was definitely among the best there! This was actually confirmed by people who know what they're talking about, as she was approached by several galleries wanting to exhibit her work. As for my worries about fitting in, the art students were probably the best role-models imaginable for individuality and acceptance; I had never seen so many quirky outfits and wacky hairstyles under one roof before! The atmosphere was so relaxed and chilled, so I felt as though I had every right to be there, celebrating with a friend, just as everyone else was. We all went out for a meal afterwards, which was so much fun and I felt confident enough to chat to different people.
All these new experiences obviously took it out of me, as I almost fell asleep on the train home!
You may be wondering why I've bothered to write a post about a journey that probably seems pretty insignificant to most of you. To be honest, I'm also wondering this myself! I guess I just wanted to show that progress and achievement is all personal. If you do something that you wouldn't/couldn't have done before, you deserve to feel pleased with yourself. Also, I think that reflecting on these small achievements (like I have done by writing this piece) is important, because otherwise they are easily forgotten and overshadowed by failures (such as getting a rejection letter after a job interview). So if you were hoping to take something away from reading this, then maybe you can just think about how you might reflect on the little steps you take, which may help you to feel more motivated in your daily life.
Harriet x
