What It Is Wednesday: Who Ya Gonna Call?



I have a gift.


Here’s how it almost always plays out, whether you are an intern, an acquaintance, a co-worker, a leader in my organization, a best friend, a neighbor, a man I’d really like to spend more time with.  The pattern is the same.

You can barely breathe.  In fact, you’re not sure if you’ll make it to morning. And you’re scared enough to admit it.

It’s Sunday night. It’s not just Sunday night but it’s after my bedtime on Sunday night, and I should already be asleep but for some reason, I’m still up.  Maybe it’s insomnia or maybe I just haven’t finished my meal-prepping or laundry for the week.  Maybe I’m talking for hours to someone who makes me smile, or maybe I have briefing charts to finish for tomorrow, or maybe I just want to wrap up the last few paragraphs of this chapter before I dash for the sheets.

And that’s when you message me.  Even if it’s after midnight.  Even if you don’t know if I’m online or if I’ll pick up or if I’m long since dreaming in my bed.   You take a chance.

And I pick up my phone.

You tell me how awful life is for you right now.  Maybe it’s a breakup…it’s usually a breakup.  But sometimes, it’s other stuff.   Always personal.  Always something at home.   And I’m the only one who’ll answer the call for help.

Not your family or your friends or your wife or your boyfriend or your pastor.  Me.  I’m available, and you know I’ll talk you through the night if I have to.  And I won’t judge.  And I won’t tell.

People who know me seem to know this about me.  That I’ll listen.  That I’ll help them see another side to things.  That I’ll help them through.   Some of them will even be there for me on the rare occasion when I show myself at my very weakest and need someone to pick me up and carry through.  Some?  Well, one…maybe two.  That’s not usually how it works but when it does, I’m floored.

This is when we step between the worlds we normally know each other in–no longer colleagues, no longer within the work hierarchy, no longer within the constructs of society or community.  We are just two friends, one of us helping the other.

Sometimes the person will be embarrassed later and avoid me, not wanting to be reminded of a weakness.  Sometimes a man doesn’t want me to remember him in a state of fragility and shies away from me to be with a woman who knows him only for better.  Sometimes I get in trouble on Mondays.

I’m pretty sure that part of why I got off on such a bad footing with a former boss was that on his first day on the job, I was late.   No, I was really late.  I slept about 4 hours.  I didn’t make it to work until after lunch and dragged all day.  I took vacation time for half the day, and still dragged as if I were a Sunday night drunk with a hangover instead of someone who’d stayed up the entire night, talking a former coworker with a history of suicide attempts into getting through one more breakup, one more night, just one more minute of one more hour after hour after hour until I could hand this person off to “friends” who could be bothered in the morning but not at midnight.  The night before, I’d hesitated only a second, telling myself this person had closer friends, that I was not that close at all.  But then no one else answered the call or they said they’d call back in the morning and talk then, and me…I just decided that this person and I were going to be one friend getting another friend through a hard night because that’s what people should do for one another, regardless of their station in life.

The friend tonight says I have a gift, and eventually he tells me that the gift is that I care and people know I care about them and that’s a rare thing these days.   Maybe.  I know there are people still breathing today because I picked up the phone when I should’ve been asleep on a Sunday night.

And whether  my boss likes me or not for being late to work because I carried someone through the literal darkness to morning light, it doesn’t matter.   Being compassionate may not be the best thing for an ambitious employee to be, but if I had it to do over, I would and in the same way, with no regrets.



Back in January 2005, I started blogging regularly at a LiveJournal site called SuperGirl@40 as part of my personal therapy to work through healing from a failed marriage…and then suddenly working through all the other crap in my life from  childhood.  It was a significant part of my healing journey and I shared raw emotions and “dauntless reality” with others in a small circle of new friends who were also dealing with healing from long ago  and recent traumas.   It was a fairly private blog–well, that privacy  lasted until one of my kids mentioned it to an ex-inlaw and then I took a deep breath and watched it go public very quickly.  I still write in that raw and profound way I’m known for but having healed so many of my early and frequent wounds, I don’t really write the heavy, raw, vulnerabilities like I used to.  I’m committing here to bringing that back, in case you wonder if it ever really left.  That means committing to putting the big, scary stuff out there.

The above  post is my contribution to this week’s edition of a blog hop started by Kelley Harrell of Soul Intent Arts called “What It Is Wednesday,” which gives bloggers a chance to dauntlessly tell it like it is. You can view the inaugural post to learn more about joining in or just to read other blogs in the hop.