ain't no mountain
nobody needed anybody badly enough to call
inquiryafter helloan exploration into community in all its forms
- what comes after hello
- bumble for basketball
- ain't no mountain
- still exploring…
“If you need me, call me.”
Those words, sung by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell in their Motown classic, clearly struck a chord with my soul. I have been known to call them my unofficial communications policy. If volumes aren’t too high, you can expect a response from me by text in 3-5 business days, on WhatsApp in 1-4 weeks, and in group chats only if you @ me. But with calls, if I don’t pick up there and then, I will make an effort to get back to you by the end of the day.
However, I’ve recently been informed that my current approach is proving ineffective. In the past week, I’ve been called out by three different people for being hard to reach. Was it a case of them not needing me badly enough? Or have I inadvertently built a mountain that is keeping people from me?
First, I got a call from someone after I’d left his “Hi Ife” on WhatsApp unanswered for a few days. Arguably, this showed my policy to be working effectively, but he did express concern that I’d aired his previous message too. (For the record, I heart-reacted to that one. In my head, that was sufficient.) Then, I had a run-in at church, where I was informed that I’d gone missing and never reply to anyone. People were theorising that I’d fled the country. And finally, my mum casually mentioned that she and my sister had been discussing how I don’t call her as much these days. Apparently, there had been a meeting.
So, my absence has seemingly become a talking point in various circles. As someone who is semi-uncomfortable with being perceived, and who moves through the world pretending nobody’s looking, this revelation was slightly disconcerting. But also kinda nice. It meant I’d started planting some roots.
It was also a little awkward. There have been times recently when I’ve felt isolated, as if no one was really reaching out. And yet here were three people, in the space of a week, telling me I’d been missed. This was news to me. Because outside my inner circle, nobody had actually been trying to reach me. My phone wasn’t filled with unanswered messages (at least not from them). People had noticed I was gone, but they’d noticed quietly. They’d been waiting for me to show up, and I’d been waiting for someone to reach out.
The phone works both ways. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one operating on an “if you need me, call me” basis. Nobody needed anybody badly enough to call. We were trapped in a stalemate.
Everyone has their reasons. I can only speak for mine, so let me at least come to my own defence.
Firstly, if I don’t reply to a message straight away, I often forget it exists. Secondly, I have friends who take days, sometimes months, to reply to me. I don’t hold it against them. Life be life-ing. But somewhere along the way, I started matching their energy. With everyone. And finally, on some days, I simply don’t have the capacity for people. Socialising stretches me and costs me, and there are weeks when the cost feels too high.
However, reading that back is a good reminder of why I am not a lawyer. The first is a habit, not a reason. The second is a policy I mass-applied to people who never agreed to it. The third is real. But it explains a quiet week, not a quiet season.
Back to the question I started with. Have I inadvertently built a mountain?
I think I have. Or at least, I’ve built my side of it.
The thing about the song is that “if you need me, call me” is only half the promise. The other half is the coming. It’s a declaration that no distance or obstacle could keep them from getting to you. You call, and I’ll be there. My version kept the first half, with no guarantee of the second.
But even the song has a catch. For all its grand promises, the pursuit only begins once someone calls. It’s devotion on demand. A love that waits to be summoned.
And people don’t really summon anymore. Life is busy. Everyone has jobs, partners, children and priorities of their own. Needs go unspoken, not because they aren’t there, but because no one wants to be the one who interrupts. So we all wait to be called, and the call never comes.
Which leaves a challenging question. Of everyone in this stalemate, who has the most room to move first? I’m single. I have no kids. My evenings are, for the most part, my own. If anyone has the bandwidth to make the climb, surely it’s me, right?
Time, I have. Energy is another matter. But if I’m honest, the real barrier has never been time. It’s purpose.
I struggle to communicate without one. To me, texts are for transactions. When there’s nothing to arrange, ask or answer, I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing. Which means the people on the edges of my life, the ones I have no particular reason to message, end up hearing nothing at all.
But a phone call doesn’t need much of a reason. “Just calling to say hello” is reason enough. It’s five minutes. It has a beginning and an end. And it costs me far less than a text conversation that never quite closes.
It won’t always be convenient. Reaching out invites mess and unpredictability into a life I like to keep tidy. Some calls will catch people at a bad time. Some will go to voicemail. But if I want these roots to grow, they’re going to need some tending.
So, consider this a policy update.
If you need me, call me. But I’ll make more of an effort to call you first.