A speaker uses a rehab program story to argue that Canadians can help Americans right now by reaching out to one person and listening without interruption. He describes a woman who broke down in tears after finally being heard, and says this kind of presence costs almost nothing but matters deeply.
Chapters
In the comment sections of my videos, I often see Canadians asking how we can help while America unravels. We want to help, but we stumble on the same fear: whatever we do, it'll never be enough. About 20 years ago or so, I was terminally ill. I was in the late stages of alcoholism. I ended up in a residential treatment center that saved saved my life. That rehab used patients as a kind of free labor. We had chores every week. We got a different daily chore assigned to do: take out the garbage, tidy up the smoker's pit, clean the windows. It wasn't exploitation, it was structure, it was rhythm, it was learning how to show up for something other than yourself. Anyway, my first week there, I got assigned to do the pots and pans. This is a job that takes 1 hour, okay? Doesn't matter how fast you go, how poorly a job you do, this is 1 hour of work. But the window of time that they gave us to get our chores done was 45 minutes. Everyone got 45 minutes, regardless of your job. Needless to say, I was confused, but I did my best. I kept blowing past the 45-minute chore block and was late for the next session every day. And they gave me the pots and pans the following week. And again the week after that. At some point I remember going up to the counselor and saying, "Have you people not realized that this job takes an hour? Why do we only get 45 minutes?" Here's what I didn't know until that moment. Only half the chores took an hour. The other half, things like mopping the floor or straightening the TV room, those only took half an hour, which meant that there was a window of time at the 30-minute mark where half the patients had finished all of their chores, didn't have anything to do for 15 minutes. So my counselor said, Have you asked anyone for help? Half this building has people just wandering around without anything to do. We're very fortunate in Canada. We put people first. We lift communities before profit. We choose balance over chaos, even when the world around us can't slow down. We are the ones right now with the 30-minute jobs. We can help. We have the time. How do we help? I don't think it's that complicated. I think we all find one person and ask them how they're doing. One person. In a Facebook group you're in. In your video game squad between matches. In an email thread you got added to. One person. And here's the best part. Other than, "How are you doing?" you don't have to talk at all. In some recovery meetings, there is a rule called "no crosstalk." It means when people speak, the room goes still. No one argues, no one debates, no one rushes to fix them or even support what they're saying. Their story just hangs there. In the air. For once, it's theirs alone. For some people, it's the first time in their lives that they've spoken and not been corrected, not been doubted, not been made small, just heard. And one of those home group meetings of mine a few years ago, a woman that none of us had ever seen while walked up to the lectern, said her name, and then wept for 3 minutes, and then sat down. We never learned why, but it didn't matter. Sometimes there's a place for just listening, and sometimes There are people who will just listen.
