hollombe@ttidca.TTI.COM (The Polymath) (01/17/90)
The door opens and the Polymath walks in from a rainy night. His posture
seems set against more than the weather. The scars seem to cut deeper
tonight. He looks weary, his shoulders slouched with the weight of the
world.
"Mulled ale, Mike. I've a chill on my soul."
Dollar and drink change hands and he walks to the line and sips.
"I want to toast everyone here tonight, for being who and what you are.
It's a great thing to know that others are there to pass the torch --
people who care and empathize and want to help. It gives me some hope for
the world.
"It's important to me, because I dropped the torch some years ago and I
think I've lost the ability to carry it further.
"I think I grew up a sensitive and slowly learned to be an empath. I
cared for people, listened to their troubles and did what I could to help.
Eventually I decided I might as well learn the rules and do for a living
what I was doing anyway. That's when I earned the master's in clinical
psychology.
"There's a few stories to go with that, but the important one tonight is
about my internship. I spent four years at the Los Angeles Suicide
Prevention Center, first as a crisis telephone counselor, then shift
supervisor and several other related things (trainer, counselor, group
facilitator, project administrator, statistician).
"Not everyone can handle the suicide lines. Some of the stories and
situations are so tragic ... and there's so little you can do to help ...
and death is always part of the background. I saw licensed pshrinks quit
after as little as three weeks, never to be seen again.
"For a number of reasons, I always worked the late-night shifts. I'd come
in around midnight or 4 a.m. and work 'til 4 or 8. The SPC always had
trouble staffing those hours. A lot of nights it was just me and a 5 line
phone in the whole building ... and the phone would ring ... and Ring ...
and RING ...
"For four hours or so at a time I _was_ the SPC and much of the misery and
desperation of the dark hours in Greater L.A. and beyond came funneling
through that phone to me. I did what I could. A few times I think I
fought death to a standstill. Once or twice I lost. Most of the time I
never knew. (But I know what a close-range gunshot sounds like over a
telephone).
"I think it was Jilara who remarked about Atlas wanting someone to take
the world from his shoulders for a while. Atlas owes me.
"Somewhere along there I got involved in what was to be the most
disastrous relationship of my life to date. She was a suicidal alcoholic,
but I didn't find that out 'til much too late. Three years of nightmare,
punctuated by visits to detox wards and driving to her place to take
loaded guns out of her hand, ended when I walked out to save my own
sanity. It was 18 months before the thought of looking for another
relationship didn't leave me shaking.
"By then I'd completed my degree, quit the SPC and taken a job with a
software house to build up some cash while I considered Ph.D. programs.
After a while, I stopped considering them. I found I didn't want to
listen to people's problems any more. I'd meet someone and they'd start
pouring their heart out to me, as usual, and after about 10 minutes I
wanted to strangle them. I'd completely burned out.
"So, ten years go by and I find myself in Callahan's. All my old helping
instincts get triggered. 'Maybe the burnout's healed,' I think. 'Maybe I
can help again.' I listen and I try to help a few people. ... ~sigh~ ...
If only good intentions were enough ... What skills I had seem to have
rusted away. They were never geared to such a limited medium, anyway.
"It takes a few weeks this time, instead of 10 minutes, but I'm not
healed. I find myself skimming instead of reading, then skipping whole
articles. Not listening.
Along with my old helping instincts, many painful memories have been
brought up. I have too many immediate concerns in my life right now. I
don't have the energy to deal with them and work through all the old pain
again.
"And so, after all that, I come to my toast:
"To youth and enthusiasm and caring people. <CRASH!> I pass the torch to
you.
"I may drop in from time to time with a long winded story or curmudgeonly
advice, but I have to attend to my life and those closest to me. As I
said, it heartens me to know this place exists. Whether I come here or
not, having Callahan's in the world makes it easier to carry on. For
that, I thank you all. If I've hurt or offended anyone with inept
remarks, here or in e-mail, my apologies. Certainly, there's no one here
I'd harm intentionally.
For now, I think I'll sit in my usual corner (was I the first to claim
one? I don't remember) and have one more drink with you. Then it'll be
time to quietly fade out.
"Give me another, Mike, and make it _hot_ this time. I'm still cold ..."
P.S.: I posted two longish articles on December 19th. Judging from the
lack of response, I suspect they may have vanished into the vacation
hiatus, expiring before most people got a chance to read them. I thought
they were worth posting at the time. If anyone missed them and is
interested, I'll repost. They contained, respectively, curmudgeonly
advice and a long winded story. (-;
--
The Polymath (aka: Jerry Hollombe, hollombe@ttidca.tti.com) Illegitimis non
Citicorp(+)TTI Carborundum
3100 Ocean Park Blvd. (213) 450-9111, x2483
Santa Monica, CA 90405 {csun | philabs | psivax}!ttidca!hollombelewandow@sabertooth.cs.wisc.edu (Gary Lewandowski (TA of Doom)) (01/20/90)
Jerry made the comment that he thinks his empathic skills have rusted. I
would like to express the thought that I believe the 'problem' may be a
number of other things.
Like him, I've worked on a hotline, and I'm currently looking for a new one
to join. For awhile I thought Callahan's would be the sort of medium which
was an electronic hotline. But I find that when I read someone's article
I can't here the pauses, the non-expressed emotions; can't get immediate
clarification on what I didn't quite understand; worse of all, for me, no one
can hear my little noises.
Sometimes I can click right off with an article and I think I understand the
emotions and I can empathize, but even then that doesn't mean I can help
the poster work through the problem. It's hard to post an article that I
think will really help or really express my empathy, and that's the frustration
I have in reading callahans, and why I don't post much.
Another aspect of the problem (for someone used to a phone line) is that you
get to see a large number of problems simultaneously, as well as other people's
responses to that problem. Volume makes it hard to respond as well.
Well, I'm not giving up yet. I'm going to think about a way to really be
useful through posting, and I'm trying email for the more personal contact I
think I need to really empathize with people.
Other thoughts on this?
p.s. I'd also like to echo the plea for less repetition of previously posted
articles when you respond. The sheer length makes it hard to read.
--
gary
lewandow@cs.wisc.edu
"It's too late to correct it," said the Red Queen.