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Laying Down the Tracks: How a Security Shack, a RedBox DVD, and a Broken Car Booted Me Into Becoming Myself
- Erica Soto
- Nov 14
- 4 min read
By Erica Soto
Laying Down the Tracks
During my days as a 19-year-old security guard in New Jersey, life felt painfully slow. I spent eight-hour shifts alone in a cold little security shack, eating whatever I packed, texting random people on my silver Razr, hoping someone wasn’t too busy to talk back. The clock dragged minute by minute. Some days, it felt like the silence was swallowing me whole.
There was almost no human interaction. Just truckers signing in and out while I tried to keep myself awake and alive inside that loneliness. To survive the boredom, I sat with my portable DVD player and rented movies from RedBox. On the days I couldn’t afford the four-dollar rental, I watched the only DVD that happened to be left in my car: Under the Tuscan Sun.
To this day, I still don’t know how it got there. I never bought it. But I watched it over and over until the lines lived in my head.
The Line That Stayed With Me
There’s a moment in the film where the main character describes the Semmering Railway, a section of the Alps that is impossibly steep and high. Engineers built railroad tracks across it long before there was a train capable of making the journey.
They built the tracks anyway because they believed one day the train would come.
In the movie, the main character buys a house in Tuscany with no plan, no confidence, no idea what her life would become. She lays down tracks without knowing if anything will ever follow them.
But in time, her abundance arrives. Love. Friendship. Belonging. Her train comes.
Back then, I sat in that security shack and watched the clock barely move. I watched the same movie four times in a row because it was all I had to get through the shift.
And slowly, without realizing it, I accepted that life. I accepted the disappointment of having just enough to get by. I accepted the numbness. I accepted the belief that survival was the only option.
Pay your rent. Pay your phone bill. Eat. Repeat.
College came and went. Missed classes. Overwhelm. Disconnection. A quiet feeling of failure. I convinced myself that maybe I could move up in security, even though I never cared for the job. I showed up just enough not to get fired.
Eventually, I left. Then came the next unfulfilling paycheck. And the next. Retail. Birthday parties. More retail. A short stint at Toys R Us.
Everything felt temporary. Every job felt like survival. No purpose, no passion, just motion without direction.
I became a mom somewhere in the middle of it all. But even then, I didn’t find clarity. I just moved through fog. After being let go again, I became a dog walker. I had no interest in dogs. It was just another job. I was lost enough that earning one hundred dollars a week felt acceptable. The bar was set low.
The Day Everything Broke
One day, my car got booted because I couldn’t afford repairs or an inspection. I remember standing there in the street, staring at the boot, feeling helpless and humiliated. That moment cracked something open inside me. I was tired of shrinking. Tired of accepting crumbs. Tired of believing life would always be this small.
So for the first time in a long time, I tried something different.
I applied for a grant through the Launch 1000 program in Westchester County. I used my only hobby, art, to see if I could teach paint parties. I learned from YouTube and Udemy. I practiced making reels. I subscribed to Canva. I dove into Pinterest. I joined a networking group. I made an Instagram page.
I laid the tracks even though I had no proof that any train would ever come.
Almost twenty years later, it hit me. Before all the jobs, before the drifting, before the numbness, I used to be a writer. A creative writer. A poet. Someone overflowing with ideas and stories. That girl had been buried underneath years of survival. she wasn’t gone. She was waiting. And now here I am, tracks laid, doing the work I once only dared to dream about.
For Anyone Standing Where I Once Stood
No matter what your right now looks like, you still have a choice.
Living with complacency is a choice.
Letting fear hold you hostage is a choice.
Walking away from the version of yourself you dreamed of becoming is a choice.
But choosing to return to her is also a choice.
The struggle is real. Heavy. Confusing. But inside the pain, there is a path. There is direction. There is a spark.
I am no longer in the business of being lost.
I am in the business of finding.
Finding opportunities.
Finding connections.
Finding like-minded people.
Finding momentum one shaky step at a time.
I am creating.
Learning.
Trying.
Showing up even when I don’t feel ready.
I became my own cheerleader because no one else could do that part for me.
My messy beginning was necessary. So is yours. Every ugly step paved the way for the masterpiece I am building now.
Showing up matters more than being prepared. Starting matters more than knowing how. Trying matters more than waiting.
Sometimes, the beginning that feels the most hopeless is the one that finally proves you deserve more.
Like I tell my paint party participants, do not expect to get it right on the first try. Art needs layers. Editing. Time to dry. You can always come back. You can always adjust. You can always begin again.
Put a lid on it and let it rest. Then try again.
You can always build more track. You can always change direction. You can always choose yourself again.
And the truth is simple and powerful.
Your train is not late.
Your train is not lost.
Your train is not gone.
Your train is on its way.
Keep laying your tracks.
Keep showing up.
Keep believing.
Future you is waiting for that day that you hear, "All aboard!"
💬 Let’s Chat
Did you ever dislike where you worked?
👀Leave a comment or send a message and let me know I'm not alone!
Erica Soto
Artist & Creative Chaos Coordinator at Enjoy Erica Art Studio
🎨 Let’s make something you’ll enjoy!
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