There are days where you’re holding yourself together with the last bit of energy you have, and for me, this was one of those days. I had been pushing through a flare-up, running errands, trying to look “fine,” and by the time I reached the train station, I felt completely drained. I sat down on a bench outside, trying not to look as overwhelmed as I felt, but the truth is, I just needed a moment.
Everyone around me seemed to be rushing somewhere. It felt like the whole world was moving and I was stuck in one spot, trying not to cry in public. I remember thinking, “No one can see me. I’m just blending into the background.”
And then someone did see me.
A woman walked over, and she didn’t do anything dramatic. She didn’t pry or ask loads of questions. She just offered a soft smile and said, “Are you alright?”
Her voice was so gentle that I felt myself breathe properly for the first time that day. She sat beside me for a minute. Not uncomfortably close, not demanding anything from me. Just present. And that alone felt like such a relief. Before she left, she handed me a little sticky note that said, “You matter. Take things slowly today.”
It was such a simple gesture, but it landed exactly where it needed to.
I still have that note tucked away.
What she didn’t know was that it came at a time when I was questioning a lot. My health, my capacity, whether I was doing enough, whether I was enough. Her kindness didn’t fix everything, but it softened the day. It made things feel a bit less heavy. And it reminded me that people do care. Sometimes we just forget to look up long enough to notice them.
That moment changed something in me. It made me want to be more intentional about how I show up in the world. Not in big, performative ways, but in the tiny moments, the things people might not remember, but still feel.
I started checking on friends more consistently. I complimented strangers. I listened properly when someone shared something vulnerable. I paid attention. And slowly, I realised that kindness isn’t about solving things for people. It’s about recognising them, even briefly. As someone who works in mental health advocacy, I see how often young people carry silent struggles. We assume everyone else is fine because they look fine. But there is so much beneath the surface. And when someone takes a moment to actually see us, it can shift the whole energy of a day.
I think about that woman often. She probably never thought about the interaction again. She doesn’t know she helped me feel grounded on a day when I felt lost. But that’s the beauty of kindness, half the time you don’t realise the impact you’ve made.
She reminded me that even in the middle of a busy station, even on your hardest days, connection is still possible. Kindness is always there, quietly waiting for someone to choose it.
