“What’s this heart pillow from?”

It was 12 am and I was changing my sheets, because what else is there to do on a Friday night? My blankets, along with stuff animals and pillows, were sprawled on the floor as I navigated myself on the top bunk.

I was surprised to hear that question from my friend who was keeping me company. Without second guessing anything, I began explaining to her and one of my roommates the story of how I had heart surgery before freshman year and how the heart pillow was part of a care package my mom got for me in the hospital. They asked me questions about my experience, and I told them how I was completely fine now, how I had had my three year check up in June, and was cured.

I didn’t think too much of this moment as it was happening, yet the past two days, it’s been on my mind.

I’ve always seen vulnerability as a great gift, an important means of connecting with others.

I didn’t realize until after the fact that this simple moment was me putting that idea into action.

The moment is proof of how much I’ve changed. When I was diagnosed with Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome in 8th grade and decided to get an ablation during the summer to cure me of the syndrome, I was extremely private about my situation. I had all of my family’s support, but other than that, I only confided in three friends, two of them after it had happened.

I don’t know why it was like this for me.

I guess when you’re dealing with something as sensitive as the heart, the idea of sharing my situation seemed to be opening up in a way I wasn’t comfortable to yet.

Writing about my experience through a memoir freshman year is what began my journey of communicating what had affected me greatly, but I had chosen to hide. I remember choosing my surgery as my topic, writing an intro, and then showing it to my mom. After finding what I had written to be an untrue recall of events, she urged me to try again.

When I sat down and simply journaled what had happened, I found myself crying. I then saw how important releasing my emotions was. I hadn’t truly allowed myself to feel and express what I had gone through, nor had I shared my experience with others.

This was my way to heal.

Over time, I’ve realized I should not be ashamed of sharing my experience. I used to think my story was “too much”, or that people would see it as a sob story. But my experience with Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome is (literally) something very close to my heart. Something that, as cliché as it sounds, made me the person I am today. For that reason, it is important for me to be honest.

When I opened up on Friday, I allowed my friends to see a deeper part of me. So often we spend conversation with small talk on topics that merely scratch the surface of who we really are. By opening up, my friends were able to see another side of me. I hope that in the future, they will feel comfortable sharing other sides of themselves with me too.

Being vulnerable gives others the permission to do the same.

Being vulnerable, I believe, is one of the best ways to make connections that will last. I feel so proud of the fact that something I used to be so private about, I now feel comfortable owning as part of who I am. It was so natural for me to simply answer my friend’s question and let my guard down.

If you had told me four years ago that I would be writing about my heart surgery on an online platform, I probably would have laughed. Yet here I am. Although revealing things that are close to you may be difficult, it will always be worth it. Even sharing the little things, aspects of yourself like idiosyncrasies or most valued traits, you will realize are not so little at all in terms of the ability they have to bring you closer to yourself and others.

Vulnerability is a gift, not a weakness, and I am going to continue to use it to connect with others on a deeper level.

I urge you to do the same.

Talk to you soon,

Sam