by Leanne Loy
editor@thenewsleader
I was sitting at my home office, taking a work call when I saw a woman walking down the road in front of my house. The wind was cruel and unrelenting, and the woman was wearing nothing but a skintight dress that stopped above the knees, and flip flops. Her skin was a painful red and she was clutching some type of bag closely to her chest. It appeared she was making her way toward my house when she suddenly turned and chose to knock on the door of my neighbor’s house, directly across the street from me.
My neighbor allowed her in and for a moment I felt better she was going to get the warmth she so badly needed. I continued my work call. By the time I was finished I noticed there was a cop car in my neighbor’s driveway.
“Good” I thought, “she will get the help she needs.”
I left the house shortly after that feeling appeased the situation was being worked out, and knowing my neighbor, she was being well cared for.
Roughly an hour-and-a-half later, I returned to my house. I was surprised to see the situation had not yet been solved. In fact, there were two more cop cars and three cops in my neighbor’s driveway speaking with a now more warmly dressed woman. As I said, my neighbor had taken care of her. But there still seemed to be some sort of trouble.
Not wanting to be a nosey neighbor, and of course letting law enforcement do their job, I returned to my desk and began working while having my lunch. Moments later, out of the corner of my eye. I saw movement and my beagles began to howl. As I looked up, I saw that the woman was now standing in my front yard. It appeared she was attempting to play tag with the officers. My concern for the woman now became concern for myself.
I locked the doors and closed the curtains. A little overkill maybe, but I needed to feel safe. It became quiet so I looked out my window just in time to see the three officers “needing to use force” getting the woman in the back of one of their cars.
Why am I sharing this story? Well, because I learned a sad, but necessary lesson that day.
When I initially saw this woman walking in the screaming cold, alone and hunched over a bag (which I later found out was filled with anxiety medication), my first instinct was to open my door to her. I wanted to help. I thought perhaps she was running from someone who had hurt her or was trying to hurt her. Or maybe she had a bit too much to drink the night before and was just completely lost. I’m sure that’s happened to the best of us. After speaking to my neighbor, I discovered the same thoughts had run through her head as well, until it became apparent that much more was involved.
Moments upon entry into my neighbor’s house, it was clear this woman was suffering from some serious mental health issues. Luckily my neighbor was unhurt, and the cops’ arrival ensured all would be well. They were able to get her to the hospital for the help she needs. But it could have had a scarier ending.
As someone who has not only taken several self-defense classes but has also taught them, I know better than to let strangers into my house. And yet, here was this woman, so helpless and cold that my first instinct was to let her in. I think as women a lot of us have this natural instinct to want to help other women. That’s not a bad thing, it’s part of what makes us human. But the sad reality is we live in a world now where we really do need to think about our own protection first, which is something that doesn’t come naturally for a lot of us.
The safe thing would have been to hand her a blanket and let her know help was on the way. She may have tried to leave at that point, but as she was on foot she wouldn’t have gotten too far.
It makes me sad to think we cannot just open our doors anymore to help our fellow humans. But that doesn’t mean we cannot help in some way. This poor woman clearly needed to encounter kindness, but what she needed even more was the kind of help only professionals can provide.
