Non-Toxic Positivity, Revisited

I don’t know about you, but my inbox is full of bad news these days. There’s so much happening that is genuinely frightening. This timeline doesn’t just suck, it seems to be getting worse. We know that things will look the most bleak before a breakthrough, “darkest before the dawn,” as they say, but it’s hard to cling to that hope. This is real life. Death lurks for all of us, individually and collectively.

I could go on and on about what's going on. The fascism, the climate, the struggle to resist. But right now I want to offer something different. Not just a trite “it’ll be okay” maxim that rings hollow. Toxic positivity can add insult to injury. It’s so painful that for a long time, I didn’t trust positivity at all. It has taken a lot of work for me to differentiate the toxic positivity from the non-toxic positivity. The stuff that holds truth, and looks my depression in the face. It doesn’t insist that I pretend everything is fine.

A few years ago, I wrote a blog post called Non-Toxic Positivity, and I shared about my journey in mental health recovery. Believe it or not, my outlook is more positive now than it used to be. This is because I’ve learned a lot about coping in a healthy way. It’s not about living in denial of what’s going on, and just acting like everything is fine. At the same time, it’s not about bleeding everywhere because your wounds are on display for anyone and everyone (ask me how I know, ha).

So I’ve made a little list of five things that help me when I’m feeling so hopeless that I can’t seem to grasp perspective. Here they are.

1.      Check in on the basics.

If all I can do right now is get up and refill my water bottle, that is the one thing I can focus on doing. Maybe while I’m in the kitchen, I can glance around for a snack that requires zero prep. Am I in pain? I often am. Well, the pain increases and decreases, but it never drops to zero. Chronic pain spoonies know that it’s hard to remember to take our medications, to use our ice and/or heat packs, our topical salves. Lately I’ve been using a roll-on Biofreeze with lavender in it (not a sponsor) for stiff and sore muscles. When the pain is really bad, I may need to see my doctor about it. Doing my physical therapy exercises may be the last thing I feel like doing, but it does help to roll out my yoga mat and stretch. What the basics look like are different for everyone, which brings me to the second thing…

2.      What works for me might not be the same thing that works for you.

For example, I like lotion. My partner hates the feel of the stuff. I have a few lotions that I really like, and there’s a hint of indulgence in paying attention to how it feels on my skin, how it smells, how it soothes the dryness. When I’m feeling particularly numb and lost, it can help me reconnect to being in my body and giving myself some compassionate care. So if you like lotion, it’s okay to get one you like. If you’re not a fan of lotion, there’s a long list of things that might be a better fit for your personal idea of comfort. Maybe it’s hugging a plushie, or wrapping yourself in a fleece blanket, or petting your cat or dog, or having a cup of your beverage of choice… you know you best. For me, it’s hard to think of these things in the moment of need, because my brain feels like it’s trudging through sludge. So I pay attention when I’m enjoying a thing, and then I put it within reach for a darker day.

3.      We feel deeply because we care.

A lot of people refuse to pay attention to what is happening, but that’s not us. If things look hopeless, it’s probably because you’re not reading the mainstream news anymore. Personally, I’m subscribed to a variety of less-popular newsletters that keep me (relatively) up to date on the underbelly of this empire. The systemic injustice has its tendrils in every detail of our lives, and it’s global. If you don’t care, you probably haven’t read this far. If you do care, things look pretty damn terrifying in the world right now. It’s overwhelming because it seems like too much. It’s not the kind of positivity that says “it’ll be fine, chin up!” In fact, this reminder sometimes make me feel pretty snarky: “Yeah, I care! And it fucking sucks!” The fact remains that if you are feeling intensely, it’s because in a world of people who pretend everything is fine, you do care.

4.      Depression tells lies in hyperbolic statements.

Hyperbole exaggerates. It often uses the terms “always,” or “never.” It says things like, “Things will never get better.” I struggle a lot with hyperbole when I’m feeling particularly hopeless and distressed. My brain favors hyperbolic statements like this one: “Life is nothing but struggling to survive until the day you fail to survive, a.k.a. die.” It’s a broad, sweeping statement, and that is not grounded in the complexity of reality. I don’t like checking facts against my emotions, to be honest. It’s difficult, and it feels invalidating. My feelings like to think they are very important, and they can be downright obstinate about it. If it feels like everything is horrible, I know that my brain is running around in circles, and it’s lying to me. Maybe a LOT of things are horrible, but not EVERYTHING. Sometimes all I can do is put on headphones and wrap myself in a blanket, playing music or meditations that help me ride the waves.

5.      Courage feels like fear.

I hate this one, to be quite honest. I wish I felt brave and strong whenever I do something that takes guts, but the truth is that I feel small, vulnerable, and a little bit ridiculous. My brain and body are filled with jitters and second-guessing. But like I said earlier, this is real life. We are not guaranteed victory in this moment. What we need is to act courageously, in whatever small ways we can. Things look bleak because it has taken so long for us to rise up in the face of fascism. Whether you’re donating, spreading the word, standing in a crowd of protesters, or taking any other action to contribute to the resistance, it’s not going to feel powerful. It’s not going to feel like enough. That’s okay. It doesn’t have to feel like it’s going to work, because we won’t know until the results are in.

It’s hard to exist as a caring person right now. It’s also hard to exist with chronic illness, disability, and mental illness. We must not look away, and we must validate our feelings without being defeated. It’s okay to be full of fear, as long as you’re doing your best to take care of yourself and those within your capacity to reach. That’s the most any of us can do, and we need as many of us as possible to be courageous.

Several of the ideas in this post came from Kate Swoboda, whose meditations on Insight Timer have been very helpful to me. Here are links to those:

Depression Lies. So Does Anxiety.

Letting Go of What Other People Think

For more helpful tips, I highly recommend the blog Liberation Toolbox.