I registered with the Red Cross food bank today, which I’ve been trying to avoid doing for several months. I have been stubbornly resisting asking for help, perhaps out of foolish pride, or maybe humiliation...I’m not sure why I didn’t ask for help, despite the need.
I think I learned this attitude from my mother, who learned it from her father. She was fourteen when the stock market crashed in 1929, and millions of people lost everything they had in the blink of an eye. My Grandfather Honeycutt was a prideful man, successful and well-respected. He came up from poverty and worked hard to acquire what he had for his family.
Within weeks of the crash, he had lost everything – his job, their home and automobile, his self-esteem and his pride, even friends he’d known for years. He had to ask for help from his family, and when they could no longer help, he had to ask strangers; then, finally – the hardest blow of all – he had to accept welfare. With public assistance came loss of standing among former friends and neighbors, most of whom needed assistance as much as, or more than, my grandparents did, but they refused to ask for it. They didn’t want to go on the “public dole.” I’m sure there was welfare fraud in their time, just as there is today, and there will always be that segment of society who views those who accept public help as bums, or lazy, shiftless lay-abouts.
Mostly, though, my grandfather couldn’t accept that he was unable to provide for his family on his own. That probably is the reason I didn’t ask for help before today, too.
As I sat in the intake office with my caseworker – God, how I hate the sound of that! – I kept swallowing back tears and this huge lump in my throat. Asking for food meant I have failed in being able to take care of myself, that I am unable to provide the most basic of necessities. When a Red Cross volunteer brought out a shopping cart with groceries to the cubicle where I sat, I felt sick, as if someone had punched me in the stomach. At the same time, I was overwhelmed with gratitude – no more cornmeal mush for awhile, although there is nothing wrong with mush! Mush, or rice, is mighty good, especially when the alternative is to go to bed hungry! (I was going to imbed a YouTube video of the “as God is my witness..." scene from Gone with the Wind, until I watched it. Things are not super-great right now, but they aren’t that bad!)
I have plenty of food to get me through to next pay day, and beyond that. Clients (that’s what we are called) are able to draw from the food bank once a month, though I intend not to need them again. But I learned today that swallowing foolish pride is no big thing, and that accepting a helping hand when I need it doesn’t mean I am a failure. Getting sick from lack of nourishment when all I had to do was ask for a little help? That is failing to take proper care of myself...as God is my witness.
18 comments:
Not asking for help when you need it is the biggest failure of all. You so did the right thing. :-)
The thing is, you, Crow/Martha/Sophie, give so much to the world (materially and non-), it's OK for you to accept a few material gifts in return. With juices.
But I too have felt that mix of gratitude and shame, when I asked for medical assistance after surgery last year (I had no insurance), even though I FIRMLY believe it is in society's best interest that we all take care of one another (not to mention a Good Thing to Do).
Still, it's one thing to be the helper, another thing to be the helpee.
Your insight about family history is helpful to me--my father also grew up during the depression and talks with bitterness about the social service people coming to their house to make sure they weren't lying about their need for clothes. And his father's wounded pride turned him into a ugly, violent man.
There is an alternate, graceful way to accept help, (and to give it, without ego and suspicion), but it's not much on display. Your post is an example. Thank you.
And speaking of food, I cannot get that damn green fish into proper position!
My mother grew up on welfare, rare milk and lard sandwiches, hand me down clothes and detested high top sneakers.
Corn mush is not a complete meal. (See pellagra.) Eating adequately will help you think better, work better. We all need help at times. These are hard times.
It is a good thing to accept help when needed and it is offered. Your description of your feelings and acceptance does you proud.
I read your words and sat there beside you, holding your hand, so you would not be alone in what you are feeling.
We've been taught that Independence is supreme, but Independence is Isolating. The most successful communities are those in which people each help each other. Such communities encourage caregiving and empathy. They encourage love.
God made us social creatures. We need each other. And people need to feel needed.
But knowing this in our mind does not it any easier in our heart, does it? Perhaps someday...on the other side of things...
Oh cor, I never realised things had become (temporarily, I hope) so desperate. I've been away from home, off and on, for over a week and more recently computerless. During which time you've become a client. That didn't sound right and so I checked. It is, sort of: (somebody who engages or receives advice or services from a professional person or organisation) though one might be tempted to test that adjective "professional". My dear, Martha. I was going to urge you, if possible, to stay objective, try and remain detached but I see you are managing to do that. The cans (we'd say tins) are quite sinister, as if they contained components for a bomb. I've never understood why the government feels it necessary to make assistance seem so damn obvious.
Ironically this subject crops up in what I am presently calling Changing Gear where unemployed engineers resist signing on at the Job Centre, feeling it will emasculate them.
I feel retrospectively horrible about the way I shouted at you over that recent misunderstanding when you quite clearly had other things on your plate (Feeble joke: not on your plate). You may or may not be interested that someone is presently judging it as a story after I decided, following multiple revisions I lacked the competence to do this.
To be going hungry in this day and age is a terrible thing. I know you have shown determination and stamina but - as you imply - this one is morale-sapping. I don't know if you're in the market for a funny book but when I was out of work in the US I enjoyed "The gang that couldn't shoot straight" (Jimmy Breslin?) though I can't now remember a single detail. Just a warm glow. They can help. All my very best.
Steve: Yes, and I can't believe it took me so long to tumble to that truth, but am glad I finally did.
My mother's most recent hospitalization has finally brought her to believe what you know, dear Crow. And it is such a relief for me to be able to put my energy into actually helping her rather than using up that energy attempting to help her as she rails against it. When I was little, she took care of me, now I'm happy to take care of her. What goes around comes around. And that should not be understood only in the negative sense that most people seem to understand it as. You are the kind of person who helps birds back into their nests. You don't simply avert your eyes and walk past when you see somebody in need. I'm glad you're accepting help now to get you over the rocky part of the road. Oh, and try to get your hands on some white pepper ... it adds great taste to the juicy cans!
Fresca: Yep, it is the juices that matter! :-)
I think the green one is the dumbest one of the bunch. Or the slowest to respond. All the others beat it to the food, push it out of the way, no matter how many times I tell it, "Go over there, I put the food over THERE!!!"
Z: I know about pellagra (mild case of it), from when I was a kid. Fortunately, rice and mush are my emergency foods, when I've run out of money. I've just been running out of money more frequently, lately, than before.
This is a temporary situation for me, and now that I know where there is help if I need it, meals of only mush or rice will be few and far between.
Plutarch: Foolish pride does no one any good, a lesson well learned.
Deborah: I am a firm believer of the hand of God at work in lives. It's just that sometimes, for some of us, it takes a kick in the rear end to get our attention.
Thank you for visiting.
BB, dear heart: Scarlett O'Hara digging in the hardened, red Georgia dirt for that scrawny, shriveled-up, bitter-tasting root is desperate. My situation is a bit tough right now, but it isn't desperate.
And, yes, it is temporary. I posted about my experience not to highlight the condition of my pantry, but to share what I learned about my way of looking at things, about my inherent boneheadedness, which gets in my way.
I was also hoping that if there was someone else out there going through something similar, maybe they would see there is no shame in asking for help when we need it. I shouldn't expect someone else to anticipate my need and fill it, but neither should I hesitate to ask...egads! I'm turning into a Republican!
And, hell yes! you should have yelled at me for saying your writing sucked! It was unnecessarily harsh of me to put it that way, misunderstanding or no.
An email will be forthcoming, Rocky, probably later this evening.
Rouchswalwe:
I have white pepper! It is a staple in my pantry, along with a number of chili peppers, and sweet and hot paprikas. Back when money was not quite as tight as it is right now, I kept a good spice selection on hand. Thank you for the tip.
Funny you mentioning your mother's struggles with letting you help her - I've been doing the same thing to my daughter. I need to rethink my attitude, based on what you've shared here. Karie's offers were about her wanting to help because she cares, not because she sees me as incapable. Thank you. (I still don't want to move in with her, though!)
Been there; can relate; admire the hell out of you for taking the self- love step.
the legacy of pride of women of a particular generation ( and i am one of them, too) is a blessing and a curse, but it is always there to be managed, always.
hugs to you
Changing over computers and not keeping up with my feeds, I hadn't realised you were back.
Food banks always seem to me such a practical, direct way of addressing a specific need, but it's always worried me that the people who really need it won't go and ask.
There was a feisty, subversive, well-loved and somewhat feared comedian here called Coluche, who worked tirelessly against poverty and racism and inequality generally, and who started an organisation called 'Restos du Coeur' (Restaurants of the Heart) to try to redress the gross imbalances in food consumption and distribution, and to try to make sure that no one went hungry. I think he maybe did something to improve the sense of stigma and failure attached to the idea of admitting to needing that kind of help here.
The shame should not be with the hungry person, but with the society, especially a wealthy and largely overfed one, that allows them to go hungry. And it really does seem especially outrageous that someone who is working and doing everything they can to be self-reliant and not engaged in any reckless or feckless behaviour should be in that position.
My mum was bitter at being in receipt of state care towards the end, when my dad's old firm cut her pension off without warning; she went on about being a 'charity case' and so on, regardless of all the taxes they'd paid all their lives.
And you are rich in so so many ways, and enrich other's lives immeasurably, mine included.
I'm glad you got the assistance you needed right now. These are some very hard times for a lot of people who aren't used to asking for or accepting help. We're more inclined to give it, even when we can't afford to.
Take care of yourself, Sophie Crow. That's so important.
I'm glad you have accepted a helping hand. Take care.
Post a Comment