Once a few years ago, I was in a group therapy meeting where someone offered up a story about seeing a blind person at a busy crosswalk and as the light turned green, she swooped in, taking his elbow and walking him across the intersection. He’d said something like, “Hey, wait…” around the middle of the street, but she’d apparently answered, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Once they reached the other side, she said, “Here we are” and let go of his elbow, at which point he said, “But I didn’t want to cross the street.” My mind&more filled with little fireworks of recognition and I looked around to see a whole bunch of heads nodding around me. Yep, I am often that person who, metaphorically speaking, grabs an elbow and takes action when it’s not quite the thing needed. My mind whirrs with “I can do this, save the day without anyone telling me how, thank you very much.” I don’t even need special clothing for that. Can just do it in casual, yet stylish, streetwear, or, as is the case lately, one of my many choices of comfortable joggers and pullovers.

It’s tricky when good intentions splash around in puddles of ego. The slippery slope that is standing in one place and listening, then looking around and seeing how to truly make a difference tempered with the desire to dive in immediately, headfirst onto an emotional slip&slide that hurtles me into action but more than not lands me in busy unnecessary traffic. Grass stains on my chin are not a good look. This past week I had a few moments where I hurtled down that hill, then got up and realized, damn, that didn’t go like I thought it would. The things themselves had started from good intentions, but I just hadn’t taken the time to listen to what the people involved might really want or need. The need to want to do something and really fast is tantalizing, but often also wasted if that thing is not done right or isn’t necessary or even wanted. Soooo…the root of it.

Before I made my first call for Get Out the Shot: Los Angeles, I was nervous as all hell. First off, I don’t love the phone or talking to strangers, but more than that, what if I failed at making someone a vaccination appointment, or got that person—or a whole load of someone’s—tangled up in a mistake or, I didn’t even know what. I just knew I kept staring at the call sheet saying, “effin, do it. call someone.” I knew this wasn’t an unusual reaction because per the org’s shared Facebook group, a pretty common post is “Aagh. I’m nervous. Gonna make my first call” and like that. So I read and reread the script of what to say, got on the phone and promptly promised a man making an appointment for his wife that “Yes, I’ll call you in an hour with the date and time.” Bam. Then I hung up and realized, No. That’s not a thing. Even Dennis looked at me sideways realizing I’d overpromised. Thirty-six hours and too-much-adrenaline later, I got her an appointment. Then made a mental note to chill-the-F-out and not do that kind of promising again. I mean, clearly people were signing up for this service for reasons that included how impossible it is to get a damn appointment, so it’s not like they’re surprised at it taking time. For my next call, I was able to be realistic and I got it done in the time it took. The one after that went even better and so on. After about a dozen calls over a few days, I’d found a sweet spot in slowing down the intake conversations. Finding out what these people really wanted (Moderna, Phizer, J&J; drive-in, walk-up; and so on). I also got to get to know them a bit and share fully in their relief when the appointment was set. Some high points: Talking to a guy who’d lived in NYC during the 80s&90s and comparing memories of how it used to be along with learning he’s an illustrator and his stuff is fantastic (click here), a woman who was about to go back to work and was having a helluva time navigating the appointment site and who cried with relief when we got her the appointment and promptly called her mom in Canada who had been so worried about her; a man who asked me first thing—though not unkindly—How’d you get this number? then when I read him the email on the call sheet said, “Oh, that’s my daughter in France. She wants me to be able to see my grandkids. I wish I could too”. After we’d found him an appointment and confirmed it, his daughter emailed me “Thanks, We miss him terribly” and my heart filled and burst with poignancy for what has been missed and hope for what is to come.

This last week there was much talk of being kind to ourselves at the end of this [insert appropriate chosen adjective here] year. My friend, Elizabeth, sent me a great piece from the NYTimes about grief and how so often we say things like, “Meh, I really can’t complain.” But here’s the thing, yes, we can. It’s good&fine to feel emotion about whatever it is that shifted in this year. The unsettling, the thread of terror weaving through our emotions. Even as someone who was able to lock it all down pretty quickly and form a pod of my dad and Dennis while still eating, laughing, and generally surviving, the grip of fear, of what if, of keeping an eye on the numbers of ICU beds available in the local hospital just.in.case. never ever left me. This is all real and truly affects our inside moments. Also part of why I remind myself to take time to listen for what I need, for what other’s need, for what it takes to be okay: time, space, energy. And sometimes if things don’t go exactly as planned, that’s not failure. Just living. And I’m saying that out loud to remind myself, since I want everyone to have vaccine appointments as soon as possible, would love everyone to see each other as equally valid, stop hating and being afraid of the other starting now. I want those things particularly after the week just passed and the year just lived. But also, I can’t fix all that in the immediate. I can listen for what is needed and try to help from there. That is all. No special outfit required.