Cake and Empathy

I either wrote this last year, or the year before that- I'm guessing 2013 but I really have to start including the dates in these! I'm also including my side notes at the end.

Cake and Empathy

A mini explosion took place in NYC College of Technology's Learning Center one afternoon. Apparently, some students messed up on one of their electrical engineering devices they were working on.  Dr. W, a tall, gray, thin, mild-mannered, Russian-Jewish professor was working with them, putting in hours at the center as some of the professors did. He took care of it somehow, shaking his head, laughing in a defeatist way saying kind of to himself, kind of to me, “this is not a college, it's a circus!”

I was one of the writing tutors so fortunately I didn’t have direct contact with scientific contraptions that had the potential to blow up or bust. Worst that could happen in that respect would be overflowing pen ink.

One time Dr. W brought cake and in the back room office, offered me some. As I accepted with a smile and a "thank you", he sighed and gently declared, “sometimes I just want to end my life, things get so difficult." This was in earnest, not a casual exaggeration of, “Ohh this job is killing me, I want to die!” complaint. He really meant it. I was filled with such an instant compassion for him because I too, have felt this way. At 15, I came this close to actually ending my own life and told no one about it beforehand. I put aside my shock and thrown-off feeling and just focused on what he was saying, face value. I nodded and listened. I didn’t act surprised or weirded out, I responded as if it were the most normal thing to say at work. As if we were old friends, picking up where we left off in conversation.

“Yes it gets hard, but there are things to look forward to,” I offered.

He told me about his wife who recently committed suicide and their 16 year old daughter who had Down Syndrome. He had a hard time caring for her because it seemed as though she couldn’t do anything for herself. Whether that was due to her disability or the way she was raised, I don’t know. He just seemed to be at his wits end- but in a sad, slow way. Never lashing out at anyone, but unraveling from within.

What made him confide in me? I must have said some friendly hellos and/or see you tomorrows to him. Maybe he was just so desperate and at the breaking point at that point. It felt so random like, "Here have some cake, and by the way, I feel like ending my life sometimes because it is just too sad to live." I don't clearly remember how our dynamic was before, but ever since then, I always made a point to say hello, to ask him how he is doing and listen.

My pregnancy with Alex was approaching full term and so was my maternity leave. We spoke a little bit about my future baby and I remember beaming with a joy that I could not hide. But I was always mindful when conversing with him to keep my reveling to a minimum.

In her book, Women Who Run with the Wolves, Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés points out that, “there is probably nothing a woman wants more from a man than for him to dissolve his own projections and face his own wound.” (p.165). Dr. W acknowledging his own wound so candidly really made my fondness for him grow.

Maybe he found me attractive. I was young and walked around with a bright, cheery disposition for the most part. Maybe he sensed in me intelligence,  sensitivity, or sweetness.  Maybe he just saw a like-minded soul who also struggled/s with depression, the way thieves in the night recognize each other or some shit, I don’t know. But I never forgot him. And I really hope that wherever he is now, that he is well. Whether he is alive and perhaps happily retired, away from "the circus", or has met his Maker and at true peace in the afterlife- but not in the way that had him filled with so much despair and disregard for his own life;  a life that I glimpsed a flicker of and grew fond enough of to want him to stay.

*Vincent encourages me to tell my “other side” story because it would help others. Sometimes I feel as though I am on the other side and sometimes I feel like I am still in it, like an alcoholic is still one even after years of sobriety. And I don’t know if I would have much to say or offer to those still on the brink or tipping point. Like, “yeah um I know how it feels to be in that much pain and I don’t blame you for wanting ‘out’”. And that’s not helpful. One argument for me is, well there is the possibility of light at the end of the tunnel, whatever that means to you, but it is a possibility, not a guarantee. What story do I tell? What is my take on it? I’m not sure I have one yet, not one fully formed or developed or ready to help others yet. But I’m considering what he is saying to me.