His Name Was Patrick

Solomon, A. (2001). The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression. New York: Scribner
Durkheim, E., & Spaulding, J. (2002). Suicide: A Study in Sociology. London: Routledge

   Someone recently inquired how I would spend my last remaining days of [f]unemployment before returning back to the work force. Though the unusually low gas prices tempted me to travel, I knew how I should [and wanted to] spend this time. 
   My days became occupied by researching as much as I could on the subject of depression and suicide. In preparation for my position, I spent hours reading over case studies, personal accounts, and research statistics. In various coffee shops, my illumination would transition from sunlight to readings lamps as they passed over my pages. I am by no means a fast reader, so finishing 500+ page books was a time consuming and emotionally taxing endeavor.

   As I finished up my last chapter, I was reminded of my time at Degage Ministries as the kitchen manager. This memory was surprisingly of a co-worker, not of a patron. 

   Shortly after I started working there, following years of volunteering, they hired in a new head of maintenance as well. His name was Patrick. Aside from naturally bonding over having an awesome name, Patrick would stop by the kitchen to hang out and joke around when I was there in the mornings. I would later come to find out Patrick would get in trouble for how much time he spent in the kitchen when he should have been doing... like ... maintenance. Still, I usually didn't remind him to go back to work, as I enjoyed his company.

   Occasionally we would talk about our lives: how we both grew up in the Irish Catholic tradition, what brought us to this job, and what was currently happening outside of work. Patrick, though only a little older than I was, had been married and had two kids. Patrick would sometimes share his disappointment in not always being there for his kids, and in not trying harder to save his marriage from divorce. Though a seemingly upbeat guy, he would often drift into self-abasing and listless talk.
   One morning, Patrick stopped by looking particularly down. You could almost see it hanging off his bones. He was starting to rip into himself again when I responded by offering some honest praise. At one point, I remember presenting one of his self-diagnosed flaws in a way that I believed it to be a strength. After a brief pause, I saw his face light up and I remember him saying "you make me feel nice". I am experienced in having a fragile self-concept, and I find it difficult to view myself in high esteem. Because of this, I enjoy taking time to affirm others.

  If circumstances were different, perhaps I would not have remembered that conversation. As it was, Patrick was eventually let go from his position at Degage. All those times in the kitchen and being inconsistent in completing his tasks caught up with him and he was asked to step down from the position. There were no hard feelings, though I was unable to get a hold of him after he left. It wasn't until several months later that I heard he had committed suicide. Amidst the many thoughts in my head, that conversation we had all that time ago came racing back, and I felt sorry for Patrick. Not only in his death did I feel sorry, but also in his life leading up to it. I didn't know if certain aspects of his life had improved or not. Even so, his suicide may have been unrelated to them. What I did know was that Patrick's response to my words of affirmation was "you make me feel nice". The reason I felt sorry was that while I could make him feel nice, I would guess he wasn't able to do the same for himself.

  While it may not always be clear whether a suicide can be considered 'rational' or 'irrational', it is always tragic. I don't know what precipitated Patrick taking his own life. If we are not able to find worth in ourselves and in living, we risk feelings of fatalism that may end in tragedy. For me, this worth has been found in my faith in Christ and God. In the pictured book above, Andrew Solomon acknowledges the worth of this existentialism. 

"...the refocusing of energy outside the self, the discovery of self-regard, the patience, the breadth of understanding. Faith is a great gift. It provides many of the advantages of intimacy without being contingent on the whim of a person." (Solomon, 2001, pg. 130)

  The many people I will come into contact with at my new position may be searching for this purpose to suffering, as many of us are, and I hope everything I remember will help me serve these people when they can't seem to find an answer.
  To quote a priest Mr. Solomon brings up in his book when asked 'how we could put something like this [suffering] in God's hands?'

"There's no 'put'. That's just where it is."