Thread by @gregmepstein, GRIEF. After I put my son to bed for the 366th time [...]

GRIEF. After I put my son to bed for the 366th time this crazy year, & before time with my wife, I'm doing a

on grief. Grieving loss of life—but also loss of hope, of relationships, or parts of ourselves. Bc it's clear a lot of us are struggling w/the concept. See you in a bit.

One of the most profound things I learned as a young chaplain is that when you don't know what to say, you can just say, "I don't know what to say."

I'm not the expert on grief. What I do know is that too many of us are feeling it as this fucking year ends, and we have so little common language to describe our feelings to one another. So let's talk.

What sparked me on the subject of grief is the death of the 25 year-old son of one of the men I admire most. Jamie Raskin and his family: people who've truly dedicated their lives to others. Tommy Raskin, a young man @AOC called "an incredible beam of light." No words. Just pain.

I want to TALK about that wordless pain of grief, however, 1st because I'm privileged to be able to. I've only suffered indirect losses this year; I'm lucky enough to have a clear enough head in this moment. If your head and heart are a fog, it's FINE. Please let them be for now.

We're taught so much about how to be strong. We're taught how to win. How to be great. If you're reading this, you're probably great. You're at LEAST great *enough.* But we are NOT taught HOW to be in pain. Which sucks because it's one of the most important life skills.

I don't know how to be in pain. But I know this: it hurts worse, for longer, when I allow my sadness, anger, and fear to stay beneath the surface, where part of my brain still feels them but not the part I tell myself — and others —is "me." Let them bubble up. Let them overflow.

Here's my greatest teacher, Sherwin Wine, a rabbi and a humanist—which I hope is fitting for Jamie Raskin and his family of Jewish freethinkers—on grieving death:

"Death needs courage. It is so overwhelmingly final that it fills our lives with dread and anxious fear..."

"...Sometimes it arrives at the end of a long life when we're waiting for it. But sometimes when it comes too soon, interrupting young lives and wasting hopes and dreams, it adds anger to our fear. We cry out at the injustice of destiny, wait f/answers that never seem to come..."

"Courage is loving life even in the face of death. It is sharing our strength with others even when we feel weak. It is embracing our family and friends even when we fear to lose them. It is opening ourselves to love, even for the last time." - @humanisticjews founder Sherwin Wine

"...When a family member or intimate friend dies, sadness and despair are normal responses. Two people can't share the best & worst of life in mutual experience & find that absence is trivial. The tribute of love is the pain of separation." –Sherwin Wine

Gets me. every. time.

But the really

thing about grief: you're probably feeling it now. Your subconscious mind might be *overwhelmed* by it even if you haven't lost a precious loved one. Because grief is ALSO a kind of profound disappointment. A way of comparing this world to the one we can imagine.

How do we avoid our feelings of grief? Let me count the ways. We accomplish. We compete. We compare ourselves. We resent. We do whatever the thing is that turns off some part of us that knows how to hint, "I'm feeling right now. Listen." Whatever our drug is. But it doesn't work.

I'm not saying never avoid feelings. Of everything I could say that'd be the most hypocritical.

But ask yourself sometimes: is this *necessary?* What if I just sat down and...felt? What would happen?

It wouldn't bring them back, right the wrong. It might bring YOU back.

Grief should not be borne alone—but grieving can feel like you MUST be alone, because a HUGE grief-avoidance method is telling ourselves, "they can't see me like this." They can. Maybe they can't see THEMSELVES like this. Maybe your sadness will trigger them! But it's OK. Try.

Not even quite done with this thread, and others are already adding their thoughts, which I love. What are you learning about grief right now? What do you not know that you wish you did? https://twitter.com/OgTeabelly/status/1344840078347145217

https://twitter.com/OgTeabelly/status/1344840078347145217

Normalize grief. Don't treat it as something so sacred, separate, that you need a death or breakdown to feel it. That's not the way to honor those like Jamie Raskin's family, who're going through its most profound painful form. Let's grieve our own losses, big and small—together

Maybe you're not as angry as you think. Maybe you're not as weak as you think, or as strong as you've been flailing to prove you are. Maybe what happened long ago wouldn't have to be so overwhelming anymore—if you could grieve it. If you could let yourself see how sad it made you

Again, I'm not the expert on grief. If I've said anything wrong here, you can ignore me or correct me or whatever. It's all good. I just know what I see in myself, in too many of my friends, in too many of us.

We're so sad, yet sometimes we're not sad enough. Because numbness prevents joy too.

If you want to connect with someone in grief, or if you want to show someone your own, and you don't know what to say, just try starting with: "I don't know what to say." A little truth, a little silence. See what flows. Maybe ironic to suggest that on Twitter? But even here.

Happy New Year? Or: may you grieve *more* in 2021. But more openly, with more acceptance, more togetherness. (Keeping safe physical distance until that vaccine kicks in of course). May we spend 2021 recognizing one another's grief more, so we can all have more joy in 2022.

End! Thanks so much for reading!

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