The Twitterverse is usually a wonderful place.
Except when it’s not.
The other day I was looking for conversations about #teachers, and this post caught my eye:
I couldn’t help but reply:
I was trying to be funny.
Fayth didn’t think it was funny.
She read me the riot act.
She told me to stay out of her business.
Instead, I went and read her profile.
So I learned that Fayth is Faith.
And that she currently weighs 91 pounds.
Her goal weight is 75 pounds.
Let me give you some perspective.
My son, Tech Support, is in 7th grade.
He is 5’3″ and weighs in at a whopping 88 pounds.
(He is like a walking skeleton. For reals. The kid is all elbows and knees.)
Anyway, I got worried.
The more I poked around, the more I could see that Fayth was struggling: with school and self-image. She admitted to cutting herself.
Something else was troubling Fayth, too. But she wouldn’t share, even when we shifted to direct messaging.
Fayth shares some disturbing images on her Twitter page. Pictures of her hipbones. Her ribs. Blood in a styrofoam cup. The food she eats (puffed wheat and diet cranberry juice). Directions about the fast she was on.
I tried to tell her that her photos and her words caught my attention.
That she scared me.
We private messaged for a little while.
She shared so little.
She is used to withholding.
I did lots of typing.
For a few days, Fayth disappeared from Twitter altogether.
But the other day, I saw this post:
So now I know this high school student weighs less than my son.
And today, I saw this:
I let her know I’m still here.
If she needs someone to rant to, there’s a stranger who cares.
Honestly, I don’t know what to do with this information.
I wish I knew where Fayth/Faith lived because I would drive over to her house and sit on the floor with her. I would be quiet and let her cry. Or not cry. She could be mad if she needed to be mad. But I would do my best to get her to whisper whatever her big scary thing is. Even if it meant telling her my biggest, scariest thing. Someone needs to pay attention to this smart girl who is doing dangerous things. To this young woman who is too tiny to wear a size 00. To the pretty young woman in the baggy clothing. To the beautiful young woman who just got her hair straightened and spends all her time counting calories.
Because she isn’t going to be here for long if someone doesn’t help her find her broken places so she can repair herself.
And it is possible to fix yourself if you’ve got the right tools in the tool belt.
Do we have any responsibilities to each other on social media? Or do we just shrug our cyber shoulders?