Subway Stories

A week or so ago I got a photo from a woman who I hadn’t seen since college (but who I followed like whoa on social media – her life is bonkers beautiful!) it was a picture of a woman on the subway reading my memoir!

My book. In the hands of a stranger. On a New York City subway. I let out an audible gasp of joy! I’m not sure if this is true for every author in New York, or for any author anywhere, but a small part of my dream has always been to see a stranger holding my book on subway. It felt like a huge compliment that they would take me with them as they went about their commute. That my little voice was taking them into my life: they were with me at the hospital at Elmhurst, into the physical therapy room at  Glen Cove, to the family room in the house I grew up in, to that same subway where I covered my tears with think tortoise shell sunglasses.  It was incredible!

I stared at that picture and another thought creeped into my head – holy shit. This stranger knows a lot about me. Like not 3rd date a lot, but like more than my family knew about me until about 2 months ago. She is basically 325 pages of my inner most thoughts.  I purposely took everything that I was feeling for months, and put it on display for someone else to consume on their trip home. It was amazing that anyone would be interested in what I was thinking while I was laid up in the hospital and also made me feel so transparent. 

Since I was a little girl I have put an immense amount of pressure on myself to say and do the right things, to not let friends or my family down, to follow the rules. I wanted for others to feel like I had it together – even if I was falling apart on the inside. 

When I looked at that photo I thought to myself, ‘Well sweetheart – whatever you’ve been trying to project is not a concern anymore! Everyone who’s read your book has seen behind the curtain. It isn’t just your friends, family, ex-boyfriends, former managers and old crushes who might have read about the times when you were selfish, insecure, totally broken and did I mention a bitch (because lets get real, you were also kind of a bitch) but now total strangers know that about the time you removed your own catheter. You don’t have anything left to hide!’ I had never felt so liberated, and so vulnerable, at the same time. It felt terrifying, but it also felt really right. 

What I want to say to you sweethearts, is try to be your true self, to tell your story – honestly, openly and without fear. I promise that there so many people who will accept you, delight in you and happily keep reading.

May I also add that this lovely woman’s nail polish is on POINT ❤ Thanks so much to the lovely Cary Neer for the photo!