Toxic Positivity: Healthy Negativity

The circumstances of 2020 have brought us many new buzzwords:  unprecedented, adaptive pause, pivot, and, my favorite, toxic positivity.  As a self-described pessimist, I am absolutely fascinated by toxic positivity.  According to The Psychology Group, “We define toxic positivity as the excessive and ineffective overgeneralization of a happy, optimistic state across all situations. The process of toxic positivity results in the denial, minimization, and invalidation of the authentic human emotional experience.” (2019).  This seems to be the idea that it is painful and destructive to counsel or support or collaborate with people going through difficult challenges with platitudes.  For example, when a friend is in crisis, it can be less-than-helpful to say, “look on the bright side”, or “be grateful for what you have”.  To this new idea of toxic positivity, I want to say, “Well, duh…”  

From my personal experience, I know that when a person is experiencing grief, pain, loss, or despair, exhorting them to “cheer up” and “make the best of it” is just dumb.  When my father died after enduring cancer treatments for years, there were a few well-meaning people who said things like, “He is at peace now”.  Not helpful.  That man was at peace every day of his well-lived, well-loved life.  I missed my father.  My soul cried out against the idea of a world without him.  My heart hurt--literally.  I could point to the place in my chest where my grief lived.  It still has a home there, after fifteen years.  If I had tried to put on a happy face, I would have never healed.  Instead, my wise Uncle Dan (an Episcopal priest) gave me some of the best pastoral advice I’ve ever received, “Linda, sometimes, things just suck.”

I needed to be allowed to let things suck for just a little while.  Not to wallow, but to feel and explore the pain.  To dive into the suckiness and swim around a bit. Since then, this simple statement, “Sometimes things just suck” has seen my friends and I through grief and pain many times.  When my dear friend’s sister was killed in a car crash, she said, “You know, you’re right, Linda, sometimes things just suck”.  When another dear friend’s baby was born stilborn, acknowledging the suckiness of it all was the only comfort I could offer.  We acknowledged the pain and sat together while we felt it.  Sometimes we need someone to crawl into our hole with us so that we can find our way into the light.

It’s 2020 and let’s be honest:  things pretty much suck.  We are in a global pandemic, when people are losing their jobs and incomes, and when people are being asked to put their own health at risk to earn their living.  Wallowing in self-pity won’t help us.  But pretending to be happy about things won’t help either.  We need to find a healthy balance of admitting that things do suck and getting on with the important work that lies ahead.  As a person who has little patience with pretentiousness and inauthenticity, toxic positivity just isn’t a trap into which I will fall.  I tend to lean more towards the “healthy negativity”.  It stands to reason that if too much positivity can be toxic, then a certain amount of negativity can be healthy.  

Of course we want to celebrate all the hard-working health-care workers, essential labor, educators, and other professionals who are going above and beyond during these challenging times.  We call them heroes and we make memes about how hard they work.  We tell them they can solve the world’s problems, that “we are in this together”, and that “we can do anything”.  We should celebrate them--we need them and we love them.  It is natural to want to prop our people up and put on a brave face.  However, at the heart of this problem is a very sucky situation.  We are in a global pandemic, when people are losing their jobs and incomes, and when people are being asked to put their own health at risk to earn their living. 

Sometimes, things just suck.  And we get up every day and do our very best.  Sometimes, we need to dive right into the suckiness of it and swim around for a while.  And, then, we have to go to work.  Because, things will always suck from time to time.  Life isn’t fair and (many times) it isn’t fun either.  But things can get better.  We are in this sucky world together.  We can do anything when we help our neighbors.  We are heroes.  So, rather than shielding ourselves with positivity, maybe we could wrap ourselves with healthy realism.  That might help us to get down to the work of making things suck just a little bit less.

References:  

The Psychology Group Fort Lauderdale.  (2019).  Toxic Positivity:  The Dark Side of Positive Vibes.  The Psychology Group. https://thepsychologygroup.com/toxic-positivity/#:~:text=We%20define%20toxic%20positivity%20as,the%20authentic%20human%20emotional%20experience.

Easter--Where Everybody Knows your Name

Easter is different this year. In the midst of the COVID-19 quarantine, I attended a few virtual church services.  Honestly, on the first Easter of no church for me in the last twelve years, I probably had more church than on most other Sundays.  I read several sermons and “attended” a few Easter services on-line.  In the midst of all that listening and watching, the theme of relationship rose anew for me.  It’s nothing new to discuss the relationship of Christ, or the concept of seeing Christ in others, or the idea that one cannot be a Christian by ourselves.  However, relationships can be frustrating and surprising.  Church community is a prime example of surprising frustrations.  We might want to be Christians all on our own, especially during times of social distancing, when we are afraid of other people.  We cannot come within six feet of another person without worrying for our own safety.  

It is tempting to want to separate even further and to stay in my own virtual community of choice.  I wonder if that’s what Mary was thinking as she went--alone--to the tomb that morning.  She must have been terrified, grief-stricken, frustrated.  I wonder if she went alone so she could be safe in her own grief, or maybe because she just needed a break from the community.  She gets up alone and goes alone to the tomb.  And she finds, in shock, that it’s empty.  The angels don’t comfort her; she doesn’t understand what they're talking about.  She’s annoyed by the random gardener talking to her.  She is lost--until someone says her name.

Mary mistakes Jesus for the gardener--until he calls her by name.  She misunderstands the mystery--until it becomes personal.  Our names are perhaps the most personal aspect of ourselves.  Some stories tell that to know the name of someone gives power over that person.  New parents argue and agonize over names for their babies.  When we are confirmed in the church, we take new names.  When we are married, we often take new names.  When Jesus adopted some of his disciples, he gave them new names.  One of the first things you do when you worship in a new church is shake hands and exchange names.  

I’ve been a little apathetic towards my church community for the last few years.  Initially, I dove into the Episcopal church with vigor and commitment.  Within a few months of my first church service, I was leading projects, serving on committees, and taking charge of things.  I felt special--respected.  Our church relationship was going along just fine.  But, as most relationships go, there are bumps in the road.  As is inevitable in any true community, I was disappointed and dismayed at certain decisions that the community made.  Things didn’t always go the way I wished they would.  Due to a few different conflicts, clergy changes, and general shift in priorities in life, I have stepped back from church leadership.  I have begun to doubt whether I should remain in this particular community, or look for a new church. In my head, I know that trials and tribulations will follow me through the doors of a new church; I will only find new conflicts and new compromises with new people.  In my heart, I wonder if I need a change and new inspiration to waken the earlier passion I felt for community life.

One benefit of the COVID-19 quarantine is that I don’t have to make a decision now.  Nothing can be done right now--churches are closed.  I can shop around and attend any on-line service that I can find.  But there are no new people to meet in real life.  I won’t be shaking new hands and telling new people my name.  However, whether or not I find a new church, I need a church.  Just like Mary mistaking Jesus when she saw him, I mistake God in my daily life--all the time.   I miss the sight of Jesus in others and I miss my chance to be grateful and to worship and to serve.  Those chances come clear to me when someone speaks my name.  Mary responded to Jesus because he KNEW her.  You see, when Mary was alone, she saw the risen Lord, but she didn’t recognize him until she recognized the relationship between them.  Spending time alone can keep us safe, it can restore us, and it can heal us.  But the mystery of Christ happens when we are in relationship with others--others who know our names. The miracle was personal to her.  She didn’t understand the angels, she only understood the man who called her by name.  

God happens to us, within us, around us.  We recognize God when God calls our name, in the voice of a person standing in front of us.  The God incarnate, human divine speaks to us through our fellow humans.  During this time of separation, personal connection is even more important.  Virtual church comforts the mind; our fellowship comforts the soul.  I am finding fellowship through group texts, Zoom chats with friends, Facebook Live services with friends separated by miles.  When we are “set free” from this quarantine, I will find God again in a church community.  Like the old tv show, Cheers, I will find the place where everyone knows my name.

Wherever I worship, I will find people and I will relate to them.  We will know the mystery of Christ when we call each other by name.