The Training Kicks in

It’s an ordinary day at the plasma center. Folks hurrying in seeking shelter from the cold, lining up for screening. Skeleton crew of workers working diligently, sticking and adjusting, sampling and freezing. With our main cog wound up, the center runs as smoothly as the finest Swiss clockwork. We churn out liter after liter of the liquid gold, like Rumplestiltskin with straw, and price paid happily into the pockets of donors.

On days like this, I make myself as readily available as possible for everyone. It’s not the job I signed up for, but rather the one I enjoy best, which is helping and giving to others with my time and energy. I chat with folks in line, crack jokes, provide insight and training, take copious mental notes of items to address before our pending audit, and observe everything, everywhere, all at once.

“Mother Fucking Shit” he yells, and it echoes not only to the rear of the center, but to the recesses of repressed memories of times past.

Breathe, says the Sliph.

In front of me is a regular. Big K. And at 6’6” and 260, I mean big. Usually friendly and chattery and flirty, today there is a different air about him. “Please, not in the center” I say. This is not the first time I have had to correct Big K on his vernacular, and while I also can have a mouth foul enough to embarrass a seasoned sailor, I don’t bring it to public establishments. Big K knows the rules, and immediately apologizes. I say, “no worries, just know for next time” and bustle off to respond to a need on the donor floor. As I finish, I see that Big K has followed me. I pass and say, “have you been screened?”, thinking that he was looking for a waiting seat. No, he says, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry. “ I reassure him it’s okay, but feel something otherwise as butterflies begin beating against the lining of my stomach. Growing up, I was always under the impression that butterflies in the stomach in the presence of someone of the opposite sex meant chemistry. Having unlearned this through years of therapy, I now understand this as my body-brain telling me that danger is afoot and to take caution. So I walk away from Big K, busying myself with stocking supplies and cleaning beds.

“You’re so busy now”. Big K’s voice calls over music and conversations and the hum of pheresis, and there is a change in my body. Hairs are standing up. Pupils open so wide it feels they are being stretched. Heart rate and breath increase, and I’m so uncomfortable that I need to get out of the public eye. As I’m leaving the floor, I’m called by another donor regarding a woman who has been the bathroom for over an hour, and spend the next 20 minutes with the security guard ensuring her safety. Having this purpose helps calm my nerves. Until it happens.

I’m finishing up with the guard, and suddenly I see Big K. He’s feet away from me and says my name. He takes a few steps and before I know it he is mere inches away, in a posture that I have only ever previously experienced from an intimate partner. My 63 inches looking up to his 78, and his tower starts to bend his head over me- Look, I’m sorry okay..

And this is where the training kicks in.

I immediately take two large steps and back away, finding my maai. With a strong kiai, I raise my invisible shinnai. “I find your behavior intimidating and threatening. Stay away. “ I see the look in his eyes. He knows he has gone about this the wrong way. “You need to get out of here.”And then to my utter surprise, he bows his head and walks away leaving the building. Not that his exit was a surprise, but that I was in a situation where I felt vulnerable and threatened, and instead of melting into a puddle, I stood my ground and took control of my safety. That it was effortless and second nature.

In my early days of Kendo, I was taught to trust my armor, and learned to put it on so that the shinnai that were repeatedly split over my men did not hurt my head. I spent countless hours studying the safe distance to keep from my opponent. I’ve learned that maai also translates to establishing clear boundaries and that I don’t have to make myself smaller than I already am. I’ve also learned that establishing maai also involves vulnerability, and trusting my emotional armor.

I hope Big K comes back. I want to talk with him. I know he was trying to make amends, and hopefully he learned something about personal space. And I want to thank him, for practicing with me.