Crumpled

By Scott Reddoch

A friend of mine told me about this professor who would give $100 dollar bills to students on the first day of class. If I had classes like that, I would have attended more. It was part of his “Introduction to Adult Psychology” lecture.

Here’s how my friend tells it: The professor starts the lecture by holding up a crisp $100 dollar bill and says “Who wants it?” Everyone raises their hand. Then he pulls a marker from his pocket and scribbles a line across the bill. Then he asks “Who wants it now?” Everyone raises their hand. “I see but there’s more. What if I do this?” He crumples the bill into a wad, throws it down, steps on it and grinds it on the floor. Everyone still raises their hand. The professor picks up the bill and hands it to a student in the front row. “What did I just give you?” The student replies “A hundred dollars.” “Notice she didn’t say that it was stained or wrinkled or dirty.” Then he adds “A hundred is still a hundred.”

Fast forward to the present and I appreciate that story even more. It felt good when I heard it, but I didn’t need it like I do now. My identity had been shattered and I felt less than worthless. I felt like a burden.

All of the things that I used to do were gone. How was I supposed to make a positive contribution when I couldn’t even scratch my nose?

People talk about existential crisis. This was mine. After trying and trying with little result, I loosened my grip on the old me. That wasn’t coming back. It gave me a sense of relief.

I had to start learning how to be paralyzed. The healing, growth and new identity took place in my mind. I had to meet life where it was, not where I thought it should be. That’s where I found growth and eventually my value.