Ask

I have a problem.  It seems so often I expect people to be mind readers.  It is like “I won’t tell” - I expect a person to just know.  Sometimes they do, but mostly they do not.  The reasons I don’t tell people is because of, pride, or a misguided sense of duty or self-pity.

How often have I though, “I couldn’t possibly ask that?”  Regularly, I prefer others do not know I have a sense of need.  If I ask, then people will know I am not perfect (it is understandable if people believe that despite all the evidence to the contrary).  To me, asking, by nature, contains an admission of incompleteness.

Merril and I are going through things.  We found one piece of a jig-saw puzzle.  It made us wonder did we have a jigsaw with one piece missing, or did we have one piece and the whole jigsaw was missing?  When it comes to asking, it does not matter if the whole jigsaw is missing, or just one piece.  No matter what, something is missing which only asking can fix.

At other times I think, I will not ask as it is up to me to find out for myself.  I do adhere to finding out for myself, but I also adhere to making it as easy for myself as I can.  Why re-invent the wheel if I do not need to?  Often someone has already done the hard yards.  It is too my advantage to use what they have done.  If no one has ever been the way I am going, I will need to do it all.  More often than not though, someone has been where I am going.  I reckon use their groundwork if I can.  Chances are I will go even further than they did with the time I can save by asking.

I saw a cartoon the other day where a kid had just been told “we learn from our mistakes.”  That caused him to respond, “Isn’t it in my best interests then to make as many mistakes as possible?”  Good response I reckon except while mistakes can be valuable, they always contain pain.  Just like I avoid pain, I avoid mistakes where I can.  Sometimes asking someone helps me avoid their mistakes and their pain.

Probably the worst reason for avoiding asking is self-pity.  They say, “they are wallowing in self-pity.”  Wallowing to me describes it.  Wallowing includes “to roll about or lie in mud.”  I choose to be there.  I heard about a blind guy in a hospital bed who used to have a fellow patient sit by his window and describe the scene.  The blind guy must have been able to see once as the descriptions painted lovely images in his mind.  The guy giving the descriptions died and at that point the one he had been telling found out he had been blind all along.  His descriptions had been based on what he saw in his minds eye.  He did not wallow in his inadequacies but revelled in his memories.

Asking may represent my stepping out of wallowing but it is always a good step.  More than once in Lord of the Ring a person on horse back gave a rousing speech to the troops.  It inspired.  It made them think I can rather than it is all too hard.
Sometimes asking is like “I can,” rather than not asking which can be like “it is all too hard” and definitely harder if I do not ask for help.