No man is an island, entire of itself

I learn a lot about people because, for some reason, they like to share very personal things with me. Of course this happens at school with students on a fairly frequent basis. I always assumed this was because I create a classroom environment of respect and caring. This might be the case--and explains why I've had three girls confess to anorexia and two other girls to cutting (I took the steps the ensure these girls got help), plus two boys who talk to me weekly about their lives and dating (I'm chalking this up to mentoring). But, I also have strangers confess things to me, and that makes me think that there might just be something about how I respond to people that's a little different.

My most recent stranger-confession came on Thursday night (before my body responded to the food poisoning and laid me out on Friday). My husband and I stopped at Great Lakes Brewery to watch the Canadians v. Flyers game (we don't have cable and it was a few blocks from where we had dinner). I'm sitting at the bar, drinking water and sipping on a stout when the woman next to me complements my skirt. I thank her and we banter a little bit. Then she complements my shoes and I complement hers. More banter follows. Eventually I've had four glasses of water with some stout and have to go to the bathroom, so I make my way to the basement where I find this woman standing in front of the full length mirror and she's examining herself. And I know, in an instant, that something is wrong. She's tugging at her sides and smashing her breasts down, and the woman is already small. She looks like she wants to rip her skin off and disappear. She needs help. I have no memory of what our first couple sentences were, but I remember standing in front of the open stall and just straight out saying, "I have an eating disorder."

She squealed "me too!" and mock puked. We spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom, as she fell apart and told me she wanted to kill herself and that she was so fat. She had already been to a treatment facility for three months because her job forced her due to her low weight (which makes me think she's anorexic, but does binge-purge too). She also showed me the scars on her arms from when she tried to kill herself (and the cuts were done the "correct" way). I told her that even though I didn't know her, I cared if she died...and if I care, she needed to imagine how many other people cared, including the guy waiting for her upstairs.

We talked about a lot of other things, all eating disorder related. I don't want to get into them. But I do worry for this girl. She wanted me phone number, so I texted her while we were still at Great Lakes. I texted her later that night, but got no response. I am genuinely worried about her. I do care what happens to her.

It was not all that long ago that I was a complete and utter disaster. It wasn't long ago that I regained my ability to discern healthy reality. Heck, there are literally days at a time where I still lose that ability (Tues & Wed of this week!)and I just try to ride them out without freaking out on anyone or myself. But I now (mostly) know when I've lost touch with a healthy reality. This girl can't see that. And I could so easily be this girl.

"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee." ~John Donne, Meditation XVII