+
A PERSONAL MESSAGE FROM UPWORTHY
We are a small, independent media company on a mission to share the best of humanity with the world.
If you think the work we do matters, pre-ordering a copy of our first book would make a huge difference in helping us succeed.
GOOD PEOPLE Book
upworthy

social media

Health

Please read this before you post another RIP on social media

There is a hierarchy of grief and it's important to know where you fall on it before posting about someone's death.

Image from GOOD.

Working through grief is a community thing.


Grieving in the technology age is uncharted territory.

I'll take you back to Saturday, June 9, 2012. At 8:20 a.m., my 36-year-old husband was pronounced dead at a hospital just outside Washington, D.C.

By 9:20 a.m., my cellphone would not stop ringing or text-alerting me long enough for me to make the necessary calls that I needed to make: people like immediate family, primary-care doctors to discuss death certificates and autopsies, funeral homes to discuss picking him up, and so on. Real things, important things, time-sensitive, urgent things.

At 9:47 a.m., while speaking to a police officer (because yes, when your spouse dies, you must be questioned by the police immediately), one call did make it through. I didn't recognize the number. But in those moments, I knew I should break my normal rule and answer all calls. "He's dead??? Oh my God. Who's with you? Are you OK? Why am I reading this on Facebook? Taya, what the heck is going on?"

Facebook? I was confused. I hadn't been on Facebook since the day before, so I certainly hadn't taken the time in the last 90 minutes to peek at the site.

"I'll call you back", I screamed and hung up. I called my best friend and asked her to search for anything someone might have written and to contact them immediately and demand they delete it. I still hadn't spoken to his best friend, or his godsister, or our godchild's parents, or a million other people! Why would someone post it to Facebook SO FAST?

While I can in no way speak for the entire planet, I certainly feel qualified to propose some suggestions — or, dare I say, rules — for social media grieving.

How many RIPs have you seen floating through your social media stream over the last month? Probably a few. Death is a fate that we will each meet at some point. The Information Age has changed the ways in which we live and communicate daily, yet there are still large voids in universally accepted norms.

This next statement is something that is impossible to understand unless you've been through it:

There is a hierarchy of grief.

Yes, a hierarchy. It's something people either don't understand or understand but don't want to think or talk about — yet we must.

There is a hierarchy of grief.

Hierarchy is defined as:

  1. a system or organization in which people or groups are ranked one above the other according to status or authority, and
  2. an arrangement or classification of things according to relative importance or inclusiveness.

What does this mean as it relates to grief? Let me explain. When someone dies — whether suddenly or after a prolonged illness, via natural causes or an unnatural fate, a young person in their prime or an elderly person with more memories behind them than ahead — there is one universal truth : The ripples of people who are affected is vast and, at times, largely unknown to all other parties.

A death is always a gut punch with varying degrees of force and a reminder of our own mortality. Most people are moved to express their love for the deceased by showing their support to the family and friends left behind.

In the days before social media, these expressions came in the form of phone calls, voicemail messages, and floral deliveries.

If you were lucky enough to be in close proximity to the family of the newly deceased, there were visits that came wrapped with hugs and tears, and deliveries of food and beverages to feed all the weary souls.

Insert social media. All of those courtesies still occur, but there is a new layer of grief expression — the online tribute in the form of Facebook posts, Instagram photo collages, and short tweets.

What's the problem with that? Shouldn't people be allowed to express their love, care, concern, support, and prayers for the soul of the recently deceased and for their family?

Yes.

And no.

Why? Because there are no established "rules," and people have adopted their own. This isn't breaking news, and you're not trying to scoop TMZ. Listen, I know you're hurt. Guess what? Me too. I know you're shocked. Guess what? Me too. Your social media is an extension of who you are. I get it. You "need" to express your pain, acknowledge your relationship with the deceased, and pray for the family.

Yes.

However...

Please give us a minute.

We are shocked.

We are heartbroken.

Give the immediate family or circle a little time to handle the immediate and time-sensitive "business" related to death. In the minutes and early hours after someone passes away, social media is most likely the last thing on their minds. And even if it does cross their mind, my earlier statement comes into play here.

There is a hierarchy of grief.

Please pause and consider your role and relationship to the newly deceased. Remember, hierarchy refers to your status and your relative importance to the deceased. I caution you to wait and then wait a little longer before posting anything. This may seem trivial, silly, and not worth talking about, but I promise you it isn't.

If the person is married, let the spouse post first.

If the person is "young" and single, let the partner, parents, or siblings post first.

If the person is "old" and single, let the children post first.

If you can't identify the family/inner circle of the person, you probably shouldn't be posting at all.

Do you get where I'm going with this?

In theory, we should never compare grief levels, cast the grief-stricken survivors into roles, or use words like status and importance. But maybe we need to at this moment (and for the next few weeks and months).

The "RIP" posts started hitting my timeline about an hour after my husband's death, and I certainly didn't start them. This created a sense of confusion, fear, anxiety, panic, dread, and shock for the people who knew me, too. What's wrong? Who are we praying for? Did something happen? Did someone pass? Why are there RIPs on your wall and I can't reach you? Call me please! What's going on?

That's a small sample of messages on my voicemail and text inbox. I had to take a minute in the midst of it all to ask a friend to post a status to my Facebook page on my behalf.

Your love and expressions of support are appreciated and needed, but they can also be ill-timed and create unintended additional stress.

The person is no less dead and your sympathy no less heartfelt if your post, photo, or tweet is delayed by a few hours. Honestly, the first couple of hours are shocking, and many things are a blur. Most bereaved people will be able to truly appreciate your love, concern, prayers, and gestures after the first 24 hours.

I've learned this from the inside — twice within the last four years. And I assure you that if we each adopted a little patience and restraint in this area, we would help those who are in the darkest hours of their lives by not adding an unnecessary layer of stress.

A few extra hours could make all the difference.


This article originally appeared on 05.07.19

From Your Site Articles
culture
Joy

Two strangers sharing opposite regrets over a puffin sweater led to a delightful exchange

What are the chances?!?

Celia Robbins/X (used with permission)

Celia Robbins regretted not buying a puffin sweater in Iceland three years ago.

We all know that social media has its pitfalls. In fact, the U.S. surgeon general even wants to put a warning label on social media apps to alert us to the health danger it poses, especially to young people.

However, social media has also connected people around the world in a way that humanity has never seen before. That can be both good and bad, but when it's good, it can delight and inspire people around the globe.

That's where an Icelandic puffin sweater comes in.

Celia Robbins shared a post on X explaining that her 14-year-old daughter had asked her if she ever has any regrets.

"While I know she was asking this question on a philosophical level, my mind immediately went to this puffin sweater I saw in Iceland," she wrote. "It's been 3 years since I saw it in a shop there, & I still regret not buying it."

Three years may seem like a long time to be pining for a sweater, but non-buyer's remorse is a real thing, especially when you can't just hop online and order something. Robbins really loves puffins, but the sweater was too expensive for her buy at the time, and when she went back to Iceland in 2022, she couldn't find it again.

Fortunately—but unexpectedly—a random stranger who lives 4,000 miles away had the exact opposite regret about exactly the same sweater.

David Wiskus, who is the CEO of Nebula and lives in New York, shared that his regret was that he bought that puffin sweater for his wife two years ago on a trip to Iceland.

"She has worn it zero times," he wrote. "I'm in NYC. Cover shipping and it's yours."

Robbins was incredulous, but Wiskus was serious. "I would never joke about a puffin sweater," he wrote.

The people of X became invested in the puffin sweater exchange. What are the chances, after all?

But sure enough, 10 days after Robbins posted the photo of the sweater she wished she'd bought, it arrived at her home in Berlin, Germany. Wiskus even covered the shipping and expedited it, despite Robbins offering to pay for it.

And wouldn't you know, it fits her perfectly.

Robbins told TODAY.com she almost started crying when she received the package.

“I don’t know how else to explain it, but it’s like a tiny little moment where the universe cared about me," she said. “I’m living in a new country. We’ve only been in Berlin for like 11 months, and sometimes life is really hard. I don’t speak German. I thankfully have a job where I get to speak English, but this was just the universe being like, ‘Hey, I care about you and what you want.’”

Wiskus told TODAY.com that he was on a work trip to Amsterdam when he happened to come across Robbins' tweet and immediately recognized the sweater. It still had the tags on it in his wife's closet.

“I was sincere. I would happily get rid of that sweater,” he said. “I didn’t realize so many people on the internet would be that excited about it.”

“I can’t stress enough, I really thought this was just, like, doing a funny bit with a random stranger on (X) and it’s just turned into this other thing," he added. "But the sincerity of it is what I find so charming.”

How does his wife feel about him giving away her sweater? She's okay with it, he said, but she did tell him, “you’re going to have to take me to Iceland so I can get another sweater.”

People have loved the story on Upworthy's Instagram page, celebrating the internet being utilized for something so wholesome and magical:

"This is ABSOLUTELY what the internet is for. Nothing more. Nothing less."

"This is what I had hoped the internet and social media would partly be, connecting people around the world in really zany but loving ways. Keeping hope alive."

"Stories like these keep me coming back to the internet 😍👏🐧"

"This is the best damn use of the internet—more like this story!"

Who knew it a puffin sweater would bring people together to gush over the positive side of social media.

From Your Site Articles
joy
Pop Culture

People are busting out calculators to check this seemingly impossible math equation

This math isn't mathing.

Photo credit: Canva

It's math that's simple enough for a third grader, but it seems wrong no matter how you calculate it.

Time is a strange phenomenon. It speeds up when we want it to slow down and drags when we wish it would go by faster. Sometimes it feels like we blink and a decade has gone by. Cue "the days are long, but the years are short," "time flies when you're having fun," and all the other time cliches that feel 100% true.

Of course, those truisms are all about our perception of time, not time itself. Time ticks by in a never-changing rhythm of seconds, minutes, hours, days and years, perfectly metered and measured. But it sure doesn't feel that way, which is why a simple math equation an average third grader can do has grown adults pulling out their calculators to make sure it's correct.

The equation in question comes from meme that reads "1981 and 2024 are as far apart as 1981 and 1938."

Yep, it's correct. The math checks out, no matter how many times you plug the numbers into the calculator. So why does it feel so wrong?

Again, time is a tricky thing. Those of us who were alive in 1981 remember how far back 1938 seemed to us at that time, and there's simply no way that distance is what 1981 is to us now. It seems impossible.

Part of the problem is that, at least for the middle-agers among us, the 80s still feels like they happened 20 years ago, not 43. That's simply how time perception works as we age.

But that's not all of it. As some people have pointed out, there were certainly major changes in both time periods, but the hugely significant cultural changes from 1938 to 1981 were more visible in many ways than most changes we've seen since then. Yes, technology exploded near the turn of the millennium, but once the internet and laptops and smartphones hit the scene, tech advancements have mostly been a matter of degree—better, smaller, lighter, faster, more efficient, more intuitive—in fairly steady increments and not so much dramatic jumps.

From 1938 to 1981, we saw huge leaps, from tiny black-and-white television to full-color cable television, from the first transatlantic passenger flight to sending humans to the moon on space shuttles, from switchboards and party lines to cell phone technology, from human computers to PCs.

We also saw clothing styles change drastically from one decade to the next during that time period in a way that we haven’t really seen in the past 40 years. Same with architecture and home designs. The mid-20th century saw the birth of rock n' roll, the Civil Rights Movement and the shift to women into the workforce. Again, huge leaps.

Wars also defined generations more in the mid-20th century than in the decades since, from WWII to the Vietnam War to the Cold War. It’s not that we haven’t had wars since 1981, but the direct impact of those wars on American life has not been as notable as those previous wars were.

Then again, it’s possible that much of the difference in feel is simply our perception of life now vs. then. Do the years since 1981 seem shorter simply because we’ve lived them, whereas most of us weren’t alive for a good chunk of the 1938 to 1981 time period and only learned it as “history”?

Hard to say, but one thing that’s clear is that people do not like the way this math feels, as evidenced by the comments people left on the post.

“Fitz is cancelled. Feeling triggered here. Lol”

“I did the math too many times because I don’t want to believe this.”

“As someone born in 1981 I really dislike this.”

“Shut your mouth. Those are fighting words! “

“I honestly did nothing to you! Like why?”

“They're not far apart. You're far apart."

It certainly will be interesting to see how the next 43 years feel for the people who live through it vs. 1981 until now.

From Your Site Articles
time
Pop Culture

Does everyone think your hobby should be a side hustle? Here's why they're probably wrong.

Can’t we just enjoy the things we love instead of turning them into a business?

Scott Beale / Laughing Squid and Flickr

A tour of Etsy, the online marketplace for handmade goods.

When someone possesses a unique talent, people react in two ways: They either encourage them to turn it into a career, while others caution that commercializing their hobby might strip away the joy they find in it.

Understandably, someone with a knack for arts and crafts would probably want to make money selling their wares. Because, as the saying goes, when you do what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life. Plus, setting up an Etsy shop and social media accounts and starting a small business is easy.

Further, in a world dominated by hustle culture, it’s almost expected that someone will try to monetize their hobby instead of doing it for the pure joy of doing it.

However, when your hobby becomes your job —whether that’s weaving blankets, making pizza, or creating a podcast—you now become pressured to do what you used to enjoy in your leisure time. That blanket becomes a product. Your pizza becomes foodstuff and your podcasts are now content.

Now, instead of baking that white pie because you like the taste, you add sausage and Canadian bacon to satisfy the market. The blankets you once made with high-end yarn are now being woven with the cheaper stuff to increase your margin.

Instead of taking a week off of your podcast because you don’t have an intriguing guest or topic, you’re forcing yourself to produce 45 minutes of content you would never listen to.

The topic has been a hot-button issue on Reddit, and many warn against turning one’s passion into a product. “I turned my hobby into a side hustle for a while. I realized it wasn’t worth it when my husband reminded me that the whole reason I started the hobby was to relieve stress from my job, but somehow, my stress relief had morphed into a second job. Haven’t done an art market since then,” SquishySquishy333 wrote.

“Turning a hobby into a business is a great way to turn something you love to do into something you hate,” Slumminwhitey added.

It’s easy to see why people would love a hobby to be their job because it seems a lot more fulfilling than working one that you’re not passionate about. But Robin Moriarty, a global business executive and former Forbes contributor, asks why people feel they need to be fulfilled by their career. Why not work for money and find fulfillment when you’re off the clock?

“In the U.S., our culture is very focused on achieving and accomplishing. Our identities are often wrapped up in our job, our title, our salary, and our promotions. Just go to any cocktail party and the first question is, ‘What do you do?’ which implies that what you do is an indicator of who you are,” Moriarty writes in Forbes. Work can be something you do to pay your bills so that you can go get your fulfillment elsewhere — from family, from spirituality, from friends, from volunteering, from hobbies, from taking classes, from sports. Where you choose to seek fulfillment is your choice.”

Ultimately, people should be able to follow their passions and use their talents as they see fit. But they should be aware that if they turn their hobby into a job, it’s going to be a lot less fun than doing it for pleasure. Plus, in a world where everything seems to be motivated by economic forces, doing something for the pure joy of it seems like a revolutionary act.

From Your Site Articles
hobbies
Trending Stories