I clearly remember my father taking me to the funeral. It was in the chapel of First Baptist Church one weekday afternoon. This boy I knew little about despite the fact that he'd been a part of my cub scout troop years prior. As a teen, he was very quiet despite his dashing good looks.
As a sidenote, it's important that you know that my dad had a stellar experience as a cub / boy scout as a Mississippi Delta youth, therefore despite my lackluster interest in scouting as his son, he held sway to the natural comradery and subsequent respect for any kid who'd given it a chance.
Regarding suicide, I learned quickly that it begs the question of cause of death, and that oftentimes firearms are involved in those answers.
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Yesterday, YouTube's algorithm recommended a Darrin Patrick video to me, and I clicked. The video was of Pastor Darrin preaching on the topic of "Did Jesus Have A Best Friend?". It was a wonderful sermon to take in.
From there, I did a search on Pastor Darrin and that's when I saw it.
The headline stating that Darrin had killed himself last Thursday. He was 49. Just one year older than Rob.
I was flabbergasted. From there, I stood up from my desk and grabbed the sides of my head as the room began to spin. I moaned as I held my skull in my hands and peered down at the floor for all of five minutes.
All I could think about was Darrin's family, but especially his 13-year old son. Then immediately following, I thought about Darrin's recent pastoral recovery / reconciliation that's been so well documented. And finally this morning, I began to think about what may have been going on under the surface within Darrin's life that obviously was too much for him to bear.
When I lost my job back in 2013, the trauma that ensued relative to how that termination was handled, amounted to me being emotionally raped and subsequently impregnated with a massive sense of worthlessness. From there, I developed PTSD 3 to 4 months after, and it was then that I began to hear voices inside my head. Really nasty voices.
They would ask, "Why don't you kill yourself?". It sure as hell seemed to be a worthwhile suggestion at the time. I cannot underestimate to you, dear reader, how overwhelmingly intense the emotional pain was. And there seemed to be no end in sight. It was as if my heart had been removed from my chest and immersed in acid.
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By God's grace, one morning I awoke and realized the suicidal harbinger had left me. I again could see life with clarity, therefore it obviously had moved on. And ever since then, by God's grace, it's never returned.
What I realized, thanks to that experience, was despite this horrific state of mind I was having to manage day to day, my life / my responsibilities didn't cease. There were expectations to be met even though I wasn't at all emotionally up to the task. In the end, it's a head game that's terribly, terribly isolating in and of itself.
The very best thing I did do through all of this was tell my wife what was going in inside my head. From there, she encouraged me to talk to my father. And, as has always been the case, my father sought out professional help for his son. That help came in the form of Mr. Don Waller, and from there, I was ushered into the Samson Society group he facilitated at First Baptist Church.
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Having dealt with my sexual identity issues throughout my life with a certain degree of aplomb, I never imagined me being vulnerable to this. But the truth is, given the right circumstances, everyone is. Our emotional core is perfectly suited to traumatic impacts given the right circumstances / timing. And overall, this life we live as men - particularly if we're also husbands / fathers is very, very challenging indeed.
Though I'd never met you, Pastor Darrin Patrick, I will miss you. Today, my heart aches over this horrible loss. It has definitely pushed me backwards into that place where my scars are well visible.
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