Is Anybody There?

As an introvert, I tend to overanalyze social interactions. Walking down the block and seeing someone come towards me is exquisite torture. "Okay, I should smile and make eye contact, but I can't start from too far away or else I'll look a little crazy, so not yet . . . not yet . . . wait, now she's too close, quick, quick, smile! You forgot to make eye contact! Why didn't you wear sunglasses?!" 

There is a girl who davens in my shul; we aren't exactly pals, but we know of each other. One day I was getting off public transportation and saw her, but since she had her hair dramatically redone I didn't quite recognize her. In any case, her mouth quirked into a tentative smile when she saw me. 

That should have been sufficient gesture for me to respond. But I was tired and bummed from another "charming" date, and I just plain and pashut didn't feel like it. There she was, trying to connect, while I stared back blankly. 

People don't need to be told twice. The next time we met, I was apologetically smiling my head off, but she averted her gaze. She had reached out, and I had scorned her. 

We just don't have the liberty of indulging in "bad days." If we do, we simply turn it into something contagious. 

I was guiltily reminded of this when reading "Why I Silence Your Call, Even When I'm Free" by Caeli Wolfson Widger. She confesses a dislike for answering her phone, preferring convenient texts. 

 

Until one day her cousin called, and she didn't pick up, even though she was very much available. A voicemail was left, but she didn't listen to it. It was only after she eventually talked to her cousin (when a time was arranged by text) that she heard the message: Her cousin, fearful, alone, and crying, had been seeking compassion and contact, and she didn't pick up. 

Hearing that message slammed me with guilt. When had I become a person who prioritized emotional convenience over the needs of those closest to me? Because really, that’s what my phone avoidance is about: delaying the on-the-spot engagement required by another human voice. I’d been coasting along on what seems like a new norm: Nobody picks up. Why should I?

Lesson learned, I resolved to change. Unless I was legitimately occupied, I promised myself I would start picking up the phone whenever it rang, regardless of any disruption the conversation might bring. I would become a more spontaneous, generous friend. 

But she had already taught the world otherwise; don't bother calling Caeli, she doesn't answer. Git morgen, she discovered that she should be present and available, only too late; family and friends had moved on a long time back, finding other sources of support. 

I am truly not a phone person, either with talking or with texting. But I have a friend who calls, and while it's still not the medium I prefer I a make a point to overcome those tendencies and be there when she is hurting or happy. 

No one likes being made to feel stupid after displaying vulnerability and being ignored. I certainly don't. So I better get my discipline together and be present and available, "bad day" regardless.