Tech in the Trenches

Carl T. Holscher fights for the customers.

On Depression

By

On August 12, 2014

In Introspection

On Depression

If you are thinking about suicide, call the National Suicide Prevention Line.
Call 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
Chat with them.
More comfortable in person? Find a local center.
How you get help isn’t important. What’s important is keeping you alive and with us.

I don’t know if I have depression. I don’t know if I ever have. I’ve never gotten help for it. I have been OK and I continue to be OK.

I have never thought about killing myself but I do struggle with sadness. Before I was married, I lived alone for much of that time. While I often enjoyed the quiet and solitude it gave me. There were some times when I needed to be near another human being.

I used to go see movies just to get out of my apartment and be near people. I would smile and chat with the cashiers and laugh and cry at the movie in the theater. I needed to feel something. I needed to share that feeling with other people.

Now that I’m married, I always have someone nearby. And that’s a comfort. Sharing a life with a warm, loving woman has been the height of my life. Knowing she’s near and she loves me helps to keep the ugly feelings at bay.

But there is still sadness. I struggle with it when I’m alone and I’m up late. It comes in the night to take away my joy.

My goal is to fall asleep before the sadness comes. Before it can talk to me and remind me of all the things I’ve done wrong or could do wrong.

Volunteer Counselor

I’ve never had suicidal thoughts. I’ve talked with people who have. I used to volunteer at a teen chat site my freshman year of college. It helped to keep me sane as much as it did those I talked to.

I would often hang out in the chat room at TeenAdviceOnline (TAO for short) at all hours of the night. I didn’t sleep much, I never have. So I would sit at my desk and chat with other people who needed a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen.

I will never forget the night I helped someone from my school.

While we were all anonymous through the chat, the IP addresses were logged and visible to those of us who volunteered. It helped when we needed to try to get help to people offline.

I was chatting with a woman one night. It was late, as it always was, and I noticed her IP address was very similar to mine. It was on the same network. She was at VCU just as I was.

In the course of talking, I learned she was a freshman too and having a really hard time of things. I could relate to her on so many levels. We were both struggling in our own way. But she had some other stuff going on. I don’t remember the specifics, as it’s been over a decade since this happened.

But after hours, I learned she was in a dorm across a small park from me. It was only a block or two from where I was living. I tried to get her to meet me in person to talk.

Midnight Meeting?

She agreed and I logged off and walked across the park to the other dorm. I didn’t know who she was, what she looked like or even what room she was in. But I had described myself and what I was wearing.

I sat and waited in the lobby. I perked up every time a woman came downstairs. But none of them were her, at least none of them admitted as much.

They ventured out with friends, or to meet people and invite them up. They collected mail or food. I waited for her. I waited for an hour. Then, realizing she was not going to come and it would be morning before too long, I told the guard at the front desk why I was there and what little I knew.

I wasn’t able to give much detail and I don’t know if it mattered at all. But I did what little I could.

When I got back to my room, I logged back on to see if she had returned. She had not. I asked the other volunteers if they had seen her or anyone from a similar IP address as me. No one had.

She told me she was leaving school and would be better at home. I hope she did. I hope she got help and her life got better. I will never know what happened to her.

I don’t often think about her, but I do sometimes. And wonder whatever became of her.

I hope she’s still alive. I hope she’s happy. Or at least content in her life.

Why am I telling you this?

I write this not to extol my value or that I deserve praise. I write this to share how we can all make a difference. I write this to share that we all need somebody. We all have our own darkness. Our own pain. We all have days we feel will never end.

We all need help. We all need someone to listen to us. To help us through the darkness. To help let the light shine back into our lives. Some people are down and need time. But other people need help. They’re not going to simply snap out of it. They’re not having a bad day.

I try to be as open as I can to people in my life that I am here if they ever need to talk. I extend that invitation to anyone within sight of these words. If you need to talk, talk to me.

I want to help

Write me an email: peroty@gmail.com
Leave me a comment.
I’m on Facebook, Twitter, and App.net.
Message me. Talk to me. Let me be your shoulder to cry on or ear to listen.

I want to help. If not me, find someone you know, online or off and talk to them.
If not them, call the National Suicide Prevention Line.
Call 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
Chat with them.

Even if you do not call, look through the ideas and resources on the site.
Even though it may not feel like it, I can guarantee you someone in your life cares very deeply about you. They may be too afraid or shy to act on it. But they care for you. They want you to be OK. They want you to be alive. They love you.

I know these words seem hollow and when the clouds roll in, it’s hard to see the light.
But the light is there. It’s not hopeless.
I love you.
I want to help.

Get Help

Call the National Suicide Prevention Line.
Call 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
Chat with them.
More comfortable in person? Find a local center.
How you get help isn’t important. What’s important is keeping you alive and with us.

Do Two Things

By

On August 11, 2014

In Introspection

In the wake of suicide there is always pain and confusion. Regret and grief and guilt rule the day. The question ways comes up, What can I do? or What could I have done?

The truth is probably nothing. Depression is a big black hole of pain. It appears endless and hopeless. That’s why it hurts so much and leads to death. The pain and despair end.

Tonight, after posting your favorite picture or quote. After remembering how great the person was in your own way. Do me two small favors.

  1. Write a thank you letter.

Pick a person who helped you. Pick someone who picked you up when you were down. Find that person who was your ear and your shoulder. Find your crutch or you confidante and tell him or her thank you.

Tell them what they mean to you. Make sure they know how they touched your life.

  1. Be that person to someone else.

Reach out and lift someone else up. Send an email. Pick up the phone. Ask them to a coffee or a meal. Tell that person you love them. Tell that person you are there for them.

If you have someone in your life who is having a tough time, reach out to them. If you can’t think of anyone, choose someone you think would appreciate it anyway.

Give them a reason to feel good about them self. Talk to them. Laugh. Cry. Hug. Smile.

There is not anything you can do for those who are already gone. But there are plenty of people left who could use a kind word.

We all matter very deeply to someone. Unfortunately, we often never find out who how much until it is too late.

Dispatch from the Trenches #4

By

On August 8, 2014

In Links and Quotes

I hope you’ve enjoyed these dispatches. This week I have a trio of posts that resonated deeply with me. The first is a long, dark read but it spoke to me. Like a great song that won’t stop replaying, this post has bounced around my head since I first saw it.

The second runs with the 40-hour work week and how it came to be. What if it could be better? And finally, your lifestyle has been designed for you. Corporations are plenty happy we’re gasping for entertainment with our limited free time. They’re delighted we’ll toss dollars at them for a smile.

Facebook is surface; Twitter is subtext, and judging by what I’ve seen, the subtext is aching sadness.

…

So now you’ve got this degree that’s worth fuck-all, a house that’s worth more as scrap lumber than as a substantial investment, and you’re either going to lose your job or have to do the work of two people, because there’s a recession on. Except they keep saying the recession ended, so why are you still working twice as hard for the same amount of money?

—Everyone I know is brokenhearted.

I read this post earlier this week. I’ve since read it a few more times. It moved me. It’s sums up how I am feeling. It’s a long piece and a dark one. But it resonated deeply within me.

It’s how I feel. Brokenhearted. Sad. Depressed. Just rundown and run out like there’s nothing left.

I don’t watch the news, I get my news through social media. And that’ just as bad. I’m still exposed to the suffering everywhere. But I can’t change it. It’s a non-stop misery machine.

There’s so much wrong with our country and our world. It’s overwhelming. And it’s depressing. And we’re working ourselves to death.

The United States now leads the pack of the wealthiest countries in annual working hours. US workers put in as many as 300 more hours a year than their counterparts in Western Europe, largely thanks to the lack of paid leave. (The Germans work far less than we do, while the Greeks work considerably more.) Average worker productivity has doubled a couple of times since 1950, but income has stagnated—unless you’re just looking at the rich, who’ve become a great deal richer. The value from that extra productivity, after all, has to go somewhere.
— Who stole the four-hour workday?

I’m working more and longer hours but not seeing any more money for it. I’m working for health insurance, since one illness could derail my entire life into bankruptcy. Even with insurance, this is still a threat.

I have very little time off which means I savor it, and spend it sparingly. I don’t schedule doctor or dentist visits because it would mean losing hours of paid leave.

Even when I’m not at work, I’m tethered to my digital leash of email and cellular technology. I’m expected to be available or to perform work on my time with my equipment. I’m expected to jump when the company says to and gleefully reply, How high?

Without time off, we lack free time and before long, I find my lifestyle has already been designed for me.

The ultimate tool for corporations to sustain a culture of this sort is to develop the 40-hour workweek as the normal lifestyle. Under these working conditions people have to build a life in the evenings and on weekends. This arrangement makes us naturally more inclined to spend heavily on entertainment and conveniences because our free time is so scarce.

I’ve only been back at work for a few days, but already I’m noticing that the more wholesome activities are quickly dropping out of my life: walking, exercising, reading, meditating, and extra writing.

The one conspicuous similarity between these activities is that they cost little or no money, but they take time.

Time is the only resource we can’t get back. Our time is finite and there’s no amount of paying, praying or begging that will make more time.

There can always be more money. There can never be more time. By spending 8 hours a day working, we lose our time. Often to things that aren’t worth the investment.

And that’s only the workday. My commute is an hour each way, if I’m lucky. So there’s another 2 hours I’ve lost getting to and from a job.

I savor my evenings, weekend and the rare holiday like I do my accrued time off. But I spend it less carefully.

Weekend are usually time to sleep. And repair myself. To try to bring some balance to a life that’s far off-kilter.

I try to regain some of my humanity before Monday and the grind starts again. As the weeks go on, I am worn down and I make worse choices. I spent more, I try to find entertainment and happiness in things and not experiences or people who bring more and longer-lasting joy.

The Gamble

By

On August 6, 2014

In Observations

The local casino is giving away $25 per week for the month of August. Annie and I went last night and brought no cash. We decided to spend our 25 free dollars and cash out anything we won.

Upon arriving and sliding my player’s card into the slot to redeem my promo dollars, I learned I had $35, Annie had $40. (The night’s first win.)

Normally, I do poorly. I win a little but here and there. I won $60 once. That’s my biggest win that I walked out with.

Last night was different. Playing Let’s Make a Deal I won a spin on the big wheel. And while I did not win the $8,000 jackpot, I did win a series of spins.

First win

$59.91. $82.24.

Second win

It was a good night for me. We walked out with $227.35 in our pockets. And the moment our promotional dollars were gone, we left.

I look forward to returning next week. Even if I walk out with $10, it is more than I had before.

Having the discipline to pocket the money and walk away is the biggest win of all.

Spy Dead Drop

By

On August 2, 2014

In Observations

Backstory: The International Spy Museum in DC is giving away tickets to celebrate its 12th anniversary. I love a good game, especially when prizes are involved so I was excited to play along. I work a few blocks from the Spy Museum so I am in the right part of town to chase down their clues as soon as they were announced.

They are doing this spy style and leaving dead drops around the city. They are not being very spy-like by announcing the locations on Twitter. I have been on the hunt since Monday when I learned about it. Tuesday, I tracked the spy to the carousel on the National Mall but was too late. Wednesday’s drop was too far away from work, in the Congressional Cemetery so I missed it. Thursday was at Shake Shack next to the museum. Despite being there minutes later, it too was gone. Friday’s was at the National Portrait Museum near the portrait of George Washington. I found out about it as I was walking along the National Mall after work on my way to the Metro Center Metro.

When the Tweet came out, I was notified by text message and I raced back to the Portrait Gallery. I was determined to find it first, yet sure someone else would best me to it. If not another Agent, then a visitor at the museum. Upon arriving, I wasted no time and asked the woman at the front desk where the portrait of George Washington was.

Second floor second room on the right.

So I raced up the stairs. Turning the corner, I saw the portrait and braced myself for disappointment.
But today would not be a repeat of yesterday. It is a new day and 25 minutes after the dead drop was left, I retrieved it.

Delighted, I stuffed the envelope into my bag, making sure to carefully close it to secure the prize. I then casually made my way to the Metro and made my way home. On the way, I texted my wife I DID IT!!!!!!! I was so excited to have made it to the dead drop in time. As I entered the room and claimed the tickets, an older couple was looking at me like I was nuts.

The man said, “Are you part of a game or something?” I said, “Yes. The Spy Museum is doing a promotion where they drop tickets randomly around the city and announce the location on Twitter.” He said, “We were wondering, we saw someone put it there but wasn’t sure what it was.”

I silently thanked him for not picking up the envelope before I arrived. In the back of my head, I also wondered if he was with the Spy Museum and was placed there to watch over the tickets. But maybe I’m paranoid.

Or maybe I’m not.

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