A lesson in kindness (Part 1)

Yesterday I went to donate blood and shit happens. This is what I've learned.

Let's preface with I look physically strong, and been living as a Masculina for 20++, I thought I was strong -- welp, turn out I am a pretty delicate flower, health-wise. And my lifestyle isn't the best either post-Covid -- yesterday reminds me thoroughly of that.

I thought I was fine and healthy and well to donate after 8 hours of pretty deep sleep and I ate something for breakfast, but the nurse remarked how pale I looked and I started getting really drowsy after donating. Even after resting for an hour, I couldn't shake off the drowsiness and eventually, I blacked out.

They had to keep me at the center until I can call somebody to come pick me up. The problem was I came alone and the closest friend I could call was a few hours away, she was still in the office, and picking me up, sending me home, and going back to her home will take her literally the whole night.

Feeling like a burden was an understatement, I tell ya. I felt like shit. Still, she didn't even think twice.

While waiting for her to come, I had to go to the toilet. And here's the deal -- the donation center was inside a shopping mall. There isn't a toilet anywhere near the center, we had to go two floors down, going through a food court -- and it was during lunch hour. I was taken on a wheelchair, pushing through the crowd.

If this was me 10 years ago, I would've felt such excruciating shame and intense hatred for myself -- I would never set foot in that mall ever again. Or donate anymore blood for the rest of my life. And I would've felt disgusted with myself for being such a weak and pathetic human being. I would've hated myself for being such a fragile woman -- because when you are being a Masculina, being strong and capable are the only acceptable state.

Being fragile, dainty, weak, sick, needing help -- all those are an absolute SIN. Especially when I have the physical image of a strong powerful woman -- sturdy skeletal structure with wide shoulder, tomboyish style, black outfit. I have none of the small and dainty traits you see in a typical asian woman, outwardly I look extremely strong and extremely healthy.

10 years ago, this situation would be hell on earth for me. Another psychological trauma to the mix. Luckily I've changed, found FDS, and learning how to be woman again.

While being pushed on the wheelchair among the thrones of people, I noticed I still felt embarrassed, but it wasn't acute. I still hide my face and all that, but I was also somewhat calm. Listening to the nurses talking about how inconvenient it was to not have a toilet near the center, and the doctor kept looking at me in worry, I realized that this is genuine, pure kindness.

The crowd who quickly give way once they notice a woman on the wheelchair -- that is kindness.

The person holding the elevator open while they were pushing me inside -- that is kindness.

The nurse who asked if I needed help with the toilet -- that is kindness.

At the center, while waiting for my friend, I am surrounded by kindness.

The nurses who kept looking and asking if I am feeling dizzy -- that is kindness.

The nurses who kept giving me bottles of water, medicine, food and gently fixing the bed so I can be comfortable -- that is kindness.

The doctors who kept monitoring my blood pressure every 15 minutes, keep asking me questions, keep looking at me and noticing each and every changes in my expression -- that is kindness.

Once my migraine attacked and they jumped into action, pulling down the bed, giving me vomit bag, monitoring my blood pressure -- that is kindness.

Another donor who took the time to ask how I felt, and gently reassuring me that everything will be fine and I just need to rest -- that is kindness.

Yes, I know -- for them they were just doing their jobs, their duties, making sure I don't get worse, perhaps a little fear that they will be sued. But a lot of people asked me how to know genuine kindness in this world who has been unkind to us for so long -- THIS IS HOW.

You notice every bit and pieces of obscure, genuine kindness -- the kind that people just give without thinking, without even realizing -- because genuine kindness is extremely silent, extremely obscure, extremely forgettable.

But they are the purest, most sincere form of kindness. And once you start noticing them -- it gets easier to see the difference between what is real, and what is fake.

If I was still deep in my Masculina mindset, I would've been able to notice any of those -- because I kept busy thinking about myself. How weak and pathetic and worthless and humiliating all this was -- not noticing the genuine, pure kindness that was surrounding me like a soft, warm blanket.

And then there's my friend. My kind, beautiful friend. Who just got off from work, bone-tired after a full day of stress, facing the traffic jam to come pick me up, facing another traffic jam to get me something to eat (she paid for it all), facing another traffic jam to get me to the clinic, and finally sending me home. And then going back home late at night.

I didn't know what I've done to deserve such a kind friend, but if all the pain and wound I endured all these years are for me to being able to meet this beautiful soul -- than I don't mind enduring them again, a thousand times over.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

I can't say it directly to your face because it will be bloody f**king awkward for both of us, and you may never read this -- but thank you.

Yesterday was a lesson in kindness. And for that I am forever grateful. Thank you.

Stay safe.