Arena, "Crying for Help IV"

As a reference for Seneca, On Peace of Mind 1.13:

Some people will claim that asking for help is a sign of weakness, and others will see it as a true sign of strength. When Serenus asks Seneca to help him overcome his doubts and fears, Seneca actually answers.

It is never a light thing, just because the suffering of another happens to be inconvenient. When others seek our assistance, we can finally put our money where our mouth is. By doing real good for others, we also do good for ourselves.

I listened to a lot of music during what I call my Wilderness Years, where the only people who barely stuck with me were my closest family. Even they had no idea what to do with me. I spent my time alone, and I cried out for help all of the time. It all seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"Give it time. It will get better."

Arena was a sort of offshoot of my absolutely favorite band, Marillion, and I would listen to their first album over and over. This track was one I looked forward to hearing, even as I dreaded what it had to say. It described exactly how I felt every day, and I would either crawl down a hole or lash out.

I remember going in complete desperation to a professor I had in graduate school, a Jesuit priest, and I bared my soul to him. He suggested prayer, and perhaps some medications, and sent me on my way.

As I walked out, I then saw him meeting with a happy crowd of students, all eager and excited, to go see a movie together.

To this day, I think of how much it would have meant to me if they had asked me to join them. I even stood there for a moment, secretly hoping the idea would magically pop into their heads. It obviously didn't, and I walked home alone.

Was I angry then? Yes. Now I can only think that when someone asks me for anything, absolutely anything, I need to give all of what I can. We are at our best together. 

Arena, "Crying for Help IV", from Songs from the Lion's Cage (1995)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Jghe46M6tM

Who makes these choices?
Who waves the final hand?
When wisdom is more than  age or reason
Who makes these choices?
Who makes the final stand?
When solitude is all that you believe

It's all the same
And you really should have known
It's all the same
When your heart grows cold and you're all alone
This has no name
This feeling that I used to know
It's here again
I can see the tortured souls as they cry for help 

Take my hand
I'll lead you through the traps and snares
Take my hand
I'll feed you and I'll clothe you like
My only child
There is nothing left to fear
My only child
There is nothing left to hurt you now!

Who makes these choices?
Who waves the final hand?
When all around
I hear the sound
Of pleading for a helping hand
Who makes those choices?
Who makes the final stand?
When far away I hear them say
They couldn't give a damn!
Give a damn! 

They're crying for help.
Help me!
They're crying for help
Help me! . . .