My time at East Carolina University was not a bright time, or a happy time. I look back on my year there as some of the darkest days of my life. If you had told me in my freshman year of college, back in 2013, that I would survive the year, I would have thought you were insane.

When I think back to my time in Greenville, NC a few things stand out as small lights; beacons of hope in what seemed like impermeable darkness. No one can deny that Sup Dogs, Einsteins Bagels, PB's, and the good old Car Wash football tailgates were staples of campus culture. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss those things, but the thing I miss most about Greenville, North Carolina came from the place I was most afraid of: the dining hall.

You see, by March of my spring semester I had realized that I wasn't just "on a diet." I knew that my life was spiraling out of control to a place I couldn't come back from. Anorexia came out of the darkness and paraded its way into my life under the mask of a way to take back control of my life. Within six months, I had begun to fear the dining hall. All the sights, and sounds, and smells of the fresh cooked food were too much.

Most days I only ate greek yogurt from the campus quick mart attached to the subway, as everything else overwhelmed me.

I remember so clearly that each day I would stop in the lobby and stare at the dining hall, wondering if today would be the day that I walked in and had a meal with my friends again after so long avoiding them. And each day, the woman behind the register would smile, greet me, and ask if I was going to join her that day. Each day I smiled, stared at the ground and skittered into the quick-mart to get my greek yogurt, and then left always with a "Bye, Ms. B" on my way out the door.

I remember one day I came by at breakfast, I hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours and I could feel myself starting to pass out. I stood at the entrance to the dining hall as I always did and just remember asking God inside my head if, in that moment, I was going to die.

"Hey sweetheart, you ready to have a great day?" came a familiar voice.

I remember looking up and seeing Ms. B and that day, for some reason, I said: "yes ma'am." Somehow I walked through those doors, to the Greek yogurt bar and began a new routine. Yes, I swapped out my plain greek yogurt for vanilla greek yogurt with strawberries, granola, and Nutella; but, more importantly, I inched my way towards re-joining civilization and allowing some positivity into my life.

It seems like such an insignificant thing — welcoming someone into a dining hall and offering them a great day, but on that day, it was exactly what I needed, and for that I will always be grateful. Honestly, I don't even know if Ms. B knew what she was doing, because I've come to realize that everybody loves her. Five years later and I still see shout outs about the kindness she shows to everyone at West End dining hall all over social media.

Tonight, I scrolled through Facebook and saw a news story covering her. I was shocked to hear in that story that Ms. B has endured her own, serious hardships. Not shocked because I thought she had it easy, but shocked because when I think of positivity, I think of Ms. B.

I never had the guts to tell Ms. B that she was one of the many people I met that year that helped to save my life, because I was in too dark of a place to be thanking anybody for just being themselves. I wish that just one of the many times she called me sugar and asked me how I was doing, I could've been honest enough to tell her that I was drowning and that her kindness was a small sliver of light in my otherwise depressing day. I wish that I could've prayed with her and garnered some of her wisdom in strength. But I didn't, so I want to say it now. If you go to ECU and you know Ms. B, please bombard that woman with love and kindness and all the gratitude in the world. And if you go to ECU and for some horrible, unfathomable reason, you don't know Ms. B, do yourself a favor: stop what you're doing and march your way over to West End dining hall immediately (especially if it's fried chicken Wednesday) and meet the best human being on that campus, and possibly this Earth.

Ms. B, thank you for being you!