Hi:) Trying something new.
You might know that I send out a weekly email as a free subscription.
It's been several years now, and I had thought that I might want to compile the series for a book (or 3 at this point). But I haven't gotten around to it so far, and so I have all this content, just sitting in my drafts, and the far back inboxes of readers. I was thinking of reposting some older ones in keeping with the weekly Torah portions that inspired them. They're all in English and a Jewish background is not necessary to understand them. Hoping that sharing a bit more Torah and light can add a few more drops into the bucket of light, hope, and merit that we need more than ever.
So I'm gonna try it this week, and if it seems like there's interest in more based on feedback, I can continue. This one is from 3 years ago, and it's a heavy subject, dealing with loss. I have another one from 4 years ago that's lighter, which I hope to post as well:
Have you ever thought or expressed something like the following:
"It's not that I want to die, or harm myself in any way, but at the moment, I don't have so much motivation for living."
Because if you've had moments, or even stretches of time like that, you should know it's not only you.
A few years ago, I was listening to an interview with a grief counselor. He was talking specifically about the tragedy of parents who'd lost children. And he said he'd never met a parent whose child had died, who didn't at some point wish that they could die too. Not that they were suicidal - but the pain of living with that kind of loss made them all question whether they could tolerate it or wanted to.
While very few experiences can compare to the pain of parental bereavement, I've heard people who were suffering from other forms of physical, psychological, or situational pain express a similar sentiment.
"It's not that I want to die, but I don't particularly want to live right now either."
I've learned that the will to live is not a binary- yes or no, black and white feeling. But like many feelings, exists along a spectrum.
At one extreme is the love of life, a passion for existence. Many of us are fortunate to have felt moments or seasons in that headspace: joy and purpose that make you jump out of bed in the morning with a sense of meaning and drive.
At the far other extreme is suicidality. This is when the existential pain becomes so strong as to feel intolerable, not worth the burden. Most of us spend most of the time sliding around various points in the middle, ranging from "ugh I just can't today" to "I feel excited and happy for today." This is part of the human condition.
In this week's Torah portion, the Jewish nation suffers the loss of two leaders: Miriam and Aharon. Miriam's death, and with it the disappearance of the water well that had been in her merit, threw the people into a grief-based trauma response.
They panicked and complained to Moses/ Moshe saying: "If only we had died the way our brothers died!"
Not just "we're thirsty, we'd like some water please."
But: "Forget it- this is too hard. We wish we weren't here."
Moshe himself was freshly mourning the loss of his beloved sister, and was deeply upset by the people's response. He uncharacteristically berated them, and then he erred, famously hitting the rock that G-d had told him to speak to, thereby diminishing the potential miracle of "water out of a rock." Loss and trauma temporarily take us away from the integrity of our own selves.
Miriam had not only gifted the people water, but also a model of faith. She was the one who led the women out of Egypt with musical instruments, singing and dancing with the confidence that miracles would happen, that there would be life after slavery, that there would be reason to celebrate. Once she was gone, there was a void of that kind of faith and energy, and the collective will to live temporarily diminished. This is a natural response to loss and scarcity. The antidote is nourishment- they needed water to live, reassurance to go on. These agonizing episodes are canonized in the Torah, because they are part of what we need to know- not stigmatized or divorced from holiness or relating to G-d.
The existential exhaustion from the pain of living, loving, and loss is part of the spectrum of emotional experience. However, if you ever experience an urge to harm yourself or anyone else, please reach out for professional help immediately- 911 the national suicide prevention helpline or, any other emergency intervention organization.
Wishing anyone who is working at healing from loss, depression, or grief the will and strength to keep going, and the hope to see light again.
Today's schmoozeletter thought is in memory of Batya Gittel the daughter of Moshe Aharon, a beautiful soul whose yartzeit (date of passing) is upcoming. With love to her family, our dear friends.
If you relate to any of what's written above, I hope it makes you feel less alone, and gives you some validation and hope. If you don't relate to any of it, then consider that one more thing to appreciate in your life, and hoping it stays that way for you:)
*I haven't published a Torah portion book yet, but I have published this one: Find Your Horizon of Healthy Thinking
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