In November of 2015, I went on a religious retreat called ECHO. It stands for “Encountering Christ in Others” It changed my life. The theme was about finding the love that exists among people. One thing I learned is that being open and honest with others will make you realize how loved you are by the world. Being open and vulnerable with those around you takes more strength than “being tough” and keeping emotions locked up.
After my retreat, I left with a sense of love. Soon after, I lost it, but never forgot about its existence. Since then I have been fighting to get it back. Since then, I have written the messages I learned on my arm in sharpie to remind myself of their power; however I have not lived them. I gave up on letting people help me, I gave up on acknowledging my own value.
Now. The story of “Adam.”
PART 1:
A week and 2 days ago, I went to Boston with a friend to do some photography. I like photography because it is a medium that shares the stories of others.
Walking out of south station, we ran into a man who insisted we stop and talk with him. He was living on the streets and his speech was hard to understand.
He noticed we had cameras and told us we should sell them and buy new cameras made by either canon or Kodak.
He said that my friend and I probably thought he was a drug addict who wanted money from us or to steal our cameras. He was so insistent on the fact that he wasn’t a drug addict that he took off his jacket to show us that there were no needle marks in his arms.
We spoke to him on the sidewalk for about 15 minutes.
1) He told us that he is from New York and that he took a bus to Boston for medical care. Taking out his medical papers he explained that he has a lot of shit going on.
2) He told us how powerful a camera can be, especially with the prevalence of social media and viral videos and photos.
3) I don’t know how we got to this topic, but he ended by saying “it’s not about how many times you fail and pick yourself up” But is about “how many times you fail, pick yourself up, and then continue to persevere.”
The last message resonated with me. When we get hurt, there is a period of time that it takes to recover. After we have healed, there is the option to walk away from the original source of pain. But there is also the choice to return to it, with lessons learned, in a stronger state of mind, and work to get better.
The conversation ended by him telling my friend and I that we can take his picture if we give him money. We explained that we were just there to take photos for fun, so no thank you, but we wished him a good night.
PART 2:
I am a broken person? I was a broken person? I don’t know. As I said, over the past few months and over senior year for that matter, I have lost myself, consumed by anxiety, apathy, and anger.
I returned to Boston 2 nights ago on March 19, 2016. I spent the day with some old friends. I was with one of my best friends from childhood and even now. We met a group of photographers and went around Boston taking photos. It was an adventure. I went new places, met new people, learned new things (some of which built me up, some of which tore at my being). Later, a friend asked me how my day in Boston was. I replied with “Fun exciting terrifying depressing painful cleansing uncharted forgiving healing rejuvenating and yet also draining. It was a crazy fucking roller coaster.”
After shooting for about 8 hours, I was exhausted. I left the group on the roof top where we were and walked back to the train station alone. My mind was racing, I was questioning who I am, who I cared about, who I want in my life, and what I want for myself.
With so much racing through my head I could only escape the mental pain by running. So I ran through the Chinatown streets dodging in and out of people. I ran to south station.
Outside of the station, I saw a familiar face. It was the man I had ran into a week before. He was in the same place. Wearing the same jacket, and the same hat.
He looked at me and I greeted him the same way I do with my friends. I laughed and said “Yo, what’s good!?” I went up and asked him how he was. He replied and reached into his pocket. Pulling out his wallet, and then a plastic card, he pointed to a date printed on the hospital card. Printed on the card was…
“DOB: 3/19/1989” it took a minute for me to understand what he was pointing to but then I exclaimed “Yo, Happy Birthday man!!” And I gave him a hug. He said he was alone, with no family, and he wanted me to sit with him on his birthday and have a drink. I told him I was only 18. Shocked, he was like “nah you look older… Well you want a drink anyways?” Once again, I declined the drink.
This time he let me take his photo for free, but after, he asked for some pocket change to he could buy a shot for his birthday. I gave him some change and then thought “did I just help an alcoholic fuel his addiction?” All of a sudden all of my emotional thoughts from before raced back into my head and I began to question my identity. (I didn’t know his story and given the background I was either kind or destructive.)
I used to volunteer and help people. Recently, I have been self centered and filled with anger. I hated myself for giving him money because I felt as though I only did it to convince myself that “I’m a half decent person.” And then I realized that if he was an alcoholic then I didn’t actually help him. I didn’t know his story. I like to have faith in beggars on the street and hope that they don’t use the money they receive for drugs and alcohol. But like I said my view of the world has been so dark lately. So I was so angry at myself for my self centered act of charity.
(Now I don’t think of myself as Saint, and to be honest I often dislike who I am. What I write next is no self praise but just part of the story. Plus if you have read this far, I hope you will get something out of this story.)
I told him to follow me into south station. We got to the food court and I told him to order whatever he wanted. After buying him dinner he said “Hey man, you got any socks?” I laughed… “Haha actually yes, yes I do.” (I don’t like wet socks and so I carry an extra pair incase my socks get soaked)
He told me to follow him to the bathroom and he put on the fresh pair of socks. I held his food while he was in the bathroom and I began to cry. My body was shaking, filled with emotions of every kind.
He came out of the bathroom and we began to walk through the station. I wiped my tears and asked him what his name was and he said “Adam… But that’s not my real name.” He pulled out his ID and said, “there is my real name. I don’t share it with people but I will show you.” I looked and I learned who “Adam” is.
This gesture hit me. I have hidden my identity from so many. I have pushed away so many people whom I love. I have verbally attacked teachers at my school who have tried to help me. I have laughed in the faces of people who have asked me if I am okay. Out of my pain, I have had a disregard for the pain of others. I have hidden my identity and pushed away those I care about. This was because I didn’t want anyone to see the broken version of myself that I have become over the past few months. In my head I figured that if I hurt those I cared about, then they would leave me alone, and for me that was easier than being honest.
Through learning “Adams” name, I realized that my kindness, regardless of motives, had led to one human opening up to another. “Adam” had literally shown me his true identity, one that he keeps hidden. It’s not a name for me to share but I’m glad he has someone he could be honest with.
I said good bye to “Adam” and he said that when he “makes it big” he will find me and pay me back.
I walked down the platform to my train, once again with emotions racing through my head. Again, I began to run, tears streamed down my face. I hated myself for who I became. Since my ECHO retreat, I have reminded myself of the lessons I learned every day, but never lived them. I boarded my train and cried.
I cried because I still hated myself. I cried because I was alone. I cried because there was an amazing man named “Adam” and he was alone on the cold streets of Boston. I cried because he deserves more. I cried because I realized I gave up on people. I cried because there are so many people, so many “unrepeatable miracles,” out there who deserve more than what they have. I cried because I wish that I had spent the past few months of my life helping them and not being self centered.
The next day I went to work, surrounded by coworkers who could all tell I was in pain and they told me they are there for me. Still I didn’t let myself be helped.
Then yesterday, a lot of my friends were wrapping up their ECHO retreat. I went to the closing ceremony to support them. I sat in the back, still a broken human. The ceremony ended and I went to see my friends, to ask them about the weekend, and to hug them.
After a few minutes I saw one friend. This friend is the teacher who I verbally attacked months before when he tried to help me amidst my pain. He was one of the most influential people for me on my ECHO retreat. On one of my worst days, he told me he wanted to help me and I looked at him, and I spoke with the intention to hurt him. I said, with pain in my voice, “I get that you care about me but STOP!” Right after I said it, I knew it hurt him, and I was ashamed but tried not to show it. He said “why would you say that to me?” And I thought to myself “because I’d say it to everyone.” It was one of my lowest moments, and I still feel bad. Since then, I have apologized and the teacher/friend has forgiven me. I realized my harsh words not only hurt him, but also hurt me. What I spoke to him, and thought in my head, was also telling myself I was unable to be cared about.
Returning to yesterday, I stood at the Echo retreat and saw the teacher who has always been there for me. My face trembled and I broke down crying in his arms. We stood in almost the exact same place where I felt loved back in November. I apologized and cried. He told me he loved me and would always be there for me.
He let me go, and I turned around, still crying. Behind me, I saw a friend who I had hurt, and then he/she held me. Then one by one, all of my friends who I had pushed away in one form or another came up and held me. I cried and spoke into their ears “I’m not okay.”
This morning I woke up. I don’t know if I am healed, but I know that I’m closer to being better. I know the importance of relying on those around you.
Now, I want to thank YOU. You helped my life. I knew back in November that Echo would be the start of a something new for me, no matter who you are, I must thank you.
Now I can begin to LIVE a life of love, for myself and others, a life of openness, a life of compassion, and a life of forgiveness. I must extend to others what they have given me. I have amends to make with myself and others but today is a new day.
To everyone out there, I love you. If you are ever feeling down, I will be there for you, regardless of who you are. Never be afraid to let people into your life, it takes strength to do so, but it will make you stronger. To those who are broken, you have the strength not only to pick yourself up, but also to persevere.
Thank you to everyone who hasn’t given up on me.
Thank you “Adam.”
Now I am strong.