I first heard Scott Fried speak at a freshman wellness seminar two years ago. I remember him clearly—engaging and demanding, passionate and free. His talk was amazing. Every seat in Ostrove was filled, people were sitting on the stairs, standing in the back. But when I heard him speak just two days ago for the second time, I felt something different. There was something about sitting just three rows away from him with only fifteen other people in the room. It didn’t feel like he was putting on a show. It felt like he was talking directly to me. It felt like he had already seen my palm, before I’d even been asked to show it.
At the end of the talk when Scott asked for questions, I had one. But I wasn’t sure the correct way to phrase it. And I wasn’t sure if he would be offended. And I wasn’t sure if the question undermined the whole point of his talk. So I said nothing. I’m sitting here, still wondering, if he ever contacted the man who gave him HIV, just to let him know exactly how he had changed the course of his life forever. I drew some serious parallels to my experiences with my boyfriend from freshman to sophomore year. He had done terrible, emotionally abusive, and manipulative things to me. Things that have affected my confidence and security in relationships ever since. And while it in no way compares to the gravity of Scott’s situation, I sometimes think about picking up the phone and letting him know just how much damage he had done to me. But would it give me any satisfaction? I’m thinking maybe not.
And when Scott said that it is easy to love those who are easy to love, but it is hardest to love those who are hard to love, including yourself, I was thinking about how hard I have made it to love myself. When Scott asked us to show him who we are with our palm, I thought to myself, how do I make my palm look feeble, damaged, afraid? But I know that I am not feeble. Although the secret in my pocket is that I am afraid, I do not confuse it with the fact that I am timid. I am scared to let someone care about me again and I am scared to be vulnerable. I have someone in my life now who is incredibly supportive and caring, yet, I am so scared to let him in. But I am trying. I am working, each and every day, to believe him when he compliments me, to believe that he will follow (he does) through on plans when we make them, to believe that I did not deserve what I experienced in the past. That lack of self-respect and self-confidence is so deeply ingrained in me that it takes immense conscious effort to not shut down and shut him out.
The secret in the front pocket of my jeans, is that I am scared—scared to let myself feel and scared to let myself go. But my palm—who I am—is neither feeble nor timid. Somewhere in my mind, I know what I have to offer, what my self-worth is. Maybe one day I’ll pick up the phone and let him know all that he has done to me, and how much better off I am without him, and how I have learned to love myself again. But then again, maybe I won’t.