Me, a brown paper bag and kindness.
On Thursday, right at the beginning of teaching my class, I got violently sick. Not much warning. No graceful fade-out. Just that hot, dizzy wave that tells you your body has other plans. I excused myself to throw up in the bathroom and returned feeling a little better. I managed to power through the three hour class because sometimes adrenaline is stronger than nausea. But once I left and made it to Penn Station, my body clocked out. I was vomiting into a brown paper bag I had to buy from Walgreens. There is something particularly humbling about paying for the bag you know you’re about to throw up in. I had tucked myself into a hallway that was very quiet but a few people were still walking by. We all know vomiting is awful. Doing it in public feels like a total stripping of dignity. You become hyper-aware of your body, your vulnerability, the way people avert their eyes. I wasn’t dangerous. I wasn’t loud. I was just a sick human being trying to get through the night. Most...