There is a wave of commentary on social media at the moment insisting that we need to Stay Positive. “Stop being so negative! You should enjoy this time with your kids!” “I’m sick of negativity, post some happy pictures!” “Let’s talk about how many people have recovered from the virus, instead of how many have died!” “You can do anything with a positive attitude!” “I’m going to create my Best Career/Body/Life Ever during this quarantine!” “I’m being sooo productive!” By themselves, these posts are all well and good. It’s great to look at the good things, to be grateful for what we have, to keep moving forward. But as these part-chirpy, part-scolding, Relentless Positivity posts accumulate, they’re starting to do more harm than good, and here’s why: they’re trying to skip over our pain and go straight to I’M GOING TO DANCE IN THE RAIN GODDAMN IT AND I’M FINE. I’M NOT SAD, I’M NOT SCARED, I’M FINE I’M FINE I’M FINE. AND YOU SHOULD BE FINE TOO, BECAUSE YOUR NOT-FINE UPSETS ME BEING FINE.
Author Glennon Doyle said the other day that our entire nation is grieving right now: grieving lost loved ones, grieving others’ loss, grieving loss of jobs, loss of contact with friends and family, grieving the loss of our old lives. Grief is hard. We’re afraid. Fear is hard. We’re angry. Anger is hard. But hard doesn’t mean bad, and to quote Glennon again, together we can do hard things.
It’s so tempting to skip over our painful feelings, to chirp “Stay positive!”, because it gives us hope that if we just stay positive, we won’t have to feel any of the painful feelings. This is a great idea—zillions of books have been written about this very thing—except it never, ever works. Feelings—pleasant ones and painful ones—are there to tell us important things. Grief tells us we’ve lost something precious. Fear tells us we need to be careful, we’re in danger. Anger tells us that something unjust is happening. If we skip over these feelings, stuff them into a dark closet and ignore them, they pound on the door until they get free, and then they attack us with a vengeance. What you resist, persists. Even more problematic is that when we tell others to stay positive while they’re in grief or frustration or fear, we tell them that their feelings are wrong and they should hide them. Those people end up feeling ashamed and isolated, right when they need someone to say, “Me, too. I feel that too.”
Feelings, by their nature, are temporary events: they wash over us, run their course, and move on. Sometimes there are many waves, but there are always waves. If we allow our (and others’) sad, fearful, angry, frustrated emotions to happen, they will wash over us and move on—leaving the opportunity for true positivity. A true positive attitude doesn’t deny painful feelings; it says, “This sucks. This hurts. This is effing awful. Okay, now what do I have control over? What can I do in this moment to make it a little better? What’s the next right thing to do?” True positivity doesn’t deny pain; it transforms it. It’s not so much making lemonade out of lemons as it is making a diamond out of hard, cold, dirty coal: it’s not a pretty process, and it takes pressure and time.
We’re all feeling different things at different moments. Today, I’m pretty upbeat—it’s sunny out, I have things to do, and I have some new ideas I want to follow. Yesterday, all I felt was heaviness. I was sad for individuals and sad for the whole planet. A few days ago, an acquaintance posted that her children, both saddled with traumatic pasts before she adopted them, were regressing to some dark, awful places, and her house was an agonizing place to be. Yesterday, things were better. If someone had told her to “Be Positive! Enjoy These Moments!” on that dark day, she probably would have wanted to scream. She rode it out, let it be awful for awhile, and things got better. For now.
We’re all living one day at a time right now. We have no road map for how to do this. Everyone is almost always doing the best they can at any given moment. Sometimes the kind thing to do is not to try to cheer someone up, but to just acknowledge their pain. “I see you. I’m here with you.” That’s all. It’s hard. But we can do hard things. And that truth is sometimes the most positive thing of all. Hang in there, everybody.
PC Taylor Mohr
