The Second Hardest Word
Elton John, sang in his 1975 hit that Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word.
I'd like to nominate what may be a tie or perhaps a very close second;
Help
This word carries so many connotations and underlying meanings as to what is going on when one says it.
Someone about to drown in a pool may scream it in reflex to a threat to their life.
Someone may say it to a Social Worker in response to what life has thrown them for a situation.
I was sitting the other day, in the local Social Security Office, which is located in the innercity of my town. Around me there were a variety of people, different ages and races and styles of dress. There was the man with one leg in a walking cast that went up to his knee. I assume he was going to ask for Disability. There was an Asian woman who later I would hear asking through a translator for help getting on Social Security. There was the young Black man behind me who kept mumbling "Geezus" every time a number other than his was called.
From the waiting room you are shuffled into a row of windows with chairs on each side, sort of like you see in prison, except there is no glass between you. The person working for Social Security sits at a desk with a cubicle wall between them and the next worker and helps you process what ever you are there for.
Like most every situation like this, I was uncomfortable with the fact I needed to ask for help. A few years ago, when I was first layed off, there were the long lines of people also unemployed, waiting to turn in their forms. You wait, hours at a time, then a person (who is bored with their job) takes your form, asks you a few questions and then tells you you will hear something in a few days.
Walk into a hospital waiting room. Unless you are bleeding, phychotic, having a stroke or heart attack, they set you on a list, then you go see someone for intake, then wait, and wait, and wait till you are shuffled to an exam room and you wait again.
Asking for help from the state is also an adventure. You fill in a form, send in the form, then sometime after that then send you a letter telling you you have an appointment, and to not miss the time. You meet with someone who reads back to you everything you wrote and then tells you a letter will be sent telling you your status. Then, you wait again.
My point is that asking for help in all these ways means waiting, and running a maze of procedures and processes that delay and in someways demean.
The other type of help that is hard to ask for, and I may be a rare person on this, is asking a person directly for help. If it came down to it that I was homeless and had to stand on a corner asking people for help, I would most likely starve.
It seems to me there is always this quid-pro-quo that goes on when you ask for help. Ask someone to help you move and, a few years later they ask you to help them move, or move something.
True compassion, true compassionate giving means not asking in return for what you give.
We need more compassionate giving.
I'd like to nominate what may be a tie or perhaps a very close second;
Help
This word carries so many connotations and underlying meanings as to what is going on when one says it.
Someone about to drown in a pool may scream it in reflex to a threat to their life.
Someone may say it to a Social Worker in response to what life has thrown them for a situation.
I was sitting the other day, in the local Social Security Office, which is located in the innercity of my town. Around me there were a variety of people, different ages and races and styles of dress. There was the man with one leg in a walking cast that went up to his knee. I assume he was going to ask for Disability. There was an Asian woman who later I would hear asking through a translator for help getting on Social Security. There was the young Black man behind me who kept mumbling "Geezus" every time a number other than his was called.
From the waiting room you are shuffled into a row of windows with chairs on each side, sort of like you see in prison, except there is no glass between you. The person working for Social Security sits at a desk with a cubicle wall between them and the next worker and helps you process what ever you are there for.
Like most every situation like this, I was uncomfortable with the fact I needed to ask for help. A few years ago, when I was first layed off, there were the long lines of people also unemployed, waiting to turn in their forms. You wait, hours at a time, then a person (who is bored with their job) takes your form, asks you a few questions and then tells you you will hear something in a few days.
Walk into a hospital waiting room. Unless you are bleeding, phychotic, having a stroke or heart attack, they set you on a list, then you go see someone for intake, then wait, and wait, and wait till you are shuffled to an exam room and you wait again.
Asking for help from the state is also an adventure. You fill in a form, send in the form, then sometime after that then send you a letter telling you you have an appointment, and to not miss the time. You meet with someone who reads back to you everything you wrote and then tells you a letter will be sent telling you your status. Then, you wait again.
My point is that asking for help in all these ways means waiting, and running a maze of procedures and processes that delay and in someways demean.
The other type of help that is hard to ask for, and I may be a rare person on this, is asking a person directly for help. If it came down to it that I was homeless and had to stand on a corner asking people for help, I would most likely starve.
It seems to me there is always this quid-pro-quo that goes on when you ask for help. Ask someone to help you move and, a few years later they ask you to help them move, or move something.
True compassion, true compassionate giving means not asking in return for what you give.
We need more compassionate giving.
posted by Both Sides of My Brain at 10:00 AM
