Intimate moments in a former foster youth's life after foster care, healing generational trauma and becoming a mother.
Echoes of Compassion: A Journey Through Overwhelm and Sanctuary
Echoes of Compassion: A Journey Through Overwhelm and Sanctuary

Echoes of Compassion: A Journey Through Overwhelm and Sanctuary


Though I walked through the familiar doors of the college lunch hall daily, this day stood apart. This day, the descent down the spiral stairs to check-in felt like a journey of a million miles. The cafeteria, though not fuller than usual, was populated with students spread across most tables. As the late diners remained immersed in their conversations, unaware that their food had long been finished, I braced myself for what should have been a quieter dining experience.

The noise on this day was overwhelming – conversations, whispers, yells and laughs merged into a chaotic symphony. Every footstep reverberated through the ground, assaulting my ears, each utensil’s clatter adding to the overwhelming discord. This day, the lights, no different than usual, now burned bright, as if under an invisible spotlight, subjecting my every move to scrutiny.

Navigating the kitchen, I floated through stations in a dazed state, trying to focus on choices, the same choices presented daily for three years. But this day, the pan’s clang made me shudder, contemplating an escape, as pressure to choose intensified with people gathering behind.

Nothing looked appealing; the various smells met under my nose: a vile mixture of old pizza, dried-out pasta, and the night’s entree. Seeking refuge at the soda machines, I poured Pepsi, my usual comfort, but even its taste mirrored the overwhelming scents.

In this small campus, knowing most lunch-goers, I avoided interaction, fearing questions about my well-being I couldn’t answer. Anticipating being approached, my heart thumped louder, drowning out the ambient noise, my vision narrowing, the room spinning.

Attempting escape, the door seemed farther, legs unwilling, tears streaming. Suffocating, I pushed through the door, fleeing as if escaping a fire.

Seeking sanctuary from the cacophony of the cafeteria, I rushed through the familiar halls, the cafeteria fading behind me like a distant storm. The nearest bathroom door became a haven, a refuge where I could catch my breath.

In the solitary confines of a stall, tears flowed unabated, breath gasped, and vision blurred; a dinner trip turned into a solitary breakdown. Unbeknownst to me, a friend witnessed my ordeal, following me into the bathroom and sliding down the wall outside my stall to sit with me. Stillness filled the air with the gift of her presence, creating a calming environment.

Softly, she said, “We don’t have to talk. Just know I am here,” providing a sense of peace. Throughout my retreat, she remained, a silent reassurance that I wasn’t facing this alone, calming my senses. She stood up as I opened the stall door and hugged me tightly, enveloping me in love. The softness of her smile conveyed a sense of comfort and acceptance. With a tissue in hand, she gently wiped the residual tears, restoring a sense of composure in me and creating a soothing effect, helping restore a semblance of normalcy.

She didn’t say much, but her unspoken understanding conveyed safety. The warmth in her eyes portrayed a silent communication of understanding and support, forever changing my approach to friendship and support.

Before her, being a safe space was unknown; she taught me the profound impact of empathy and compassion, a guiding light in vulnerability, shaping how I pay it forward today. As I reflect on that day, it’s clear that this encounter forever changed not only how I navigate challenging moments but also how I extend compassion to others. In every act of kindness, I carry the lessons learned in that bathroom sanctuary, transforming the echoes of vulnerability into a force for understanding and support.

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