Growing up, I heard a lot about perspective.
Over the years, my mom and I have talked quite a bit about the role that perspective has played in my life. Initially, those conversations were driven by her and her desire to have me learn that my own problems were relative to the bigger ones that others were inevitably experiencing. Mom never told me not to feel my feelings or implied that my challenges were small, but once I’d been given the space to express myself, there was a pretty consistent refrain in our household of “Keep it in perspective.”
In the second half of my life, many of the conversations we’ve had about perspective have been driven by me. In my personal journey with mental health and coming of age in the world of self-help Instagram accounts and podcasts, I've questioned how this emphasis on perspective has embedded itself into my brain. There are two main reasons for this:
Therapy. Every therapist I’ve ever had will tell you that I have a habit of introducing any and every problem or stress with something along the lines of “I know this probably isn’t that big of a deal” or “Other people deal with stuff that’s way more complicated.” In response, every therapist I’ve ever had has invited me to stop using those caveats, encouraging me instead to face a challenge from exactly where I am and to resist the temptation to judge myself for how I feel about it.
The fairly recent conversations we are now hearing around a little something called toxic positivity. I know you’ve heard or read about it. Mental health experts (and “experts”) the internet over have weighed in on this concept over the last few years. We’ll get into some definitions shortly, but for now, I can tell you that it clicked with me almost immediately. I’ll go ahead and say it: I do think toxic positivity is a real thing. And a bad thing.
For the record, I don’t begrudge my mother’s decision to double down on perspective as she was parenting me. While I can’t help but wonder now if it’s set me up to do a little extra unpacking, I’m also confident that it built in me a resilience that’s served me well as an adult. Other people face challenges equal to and more intense than my own… and they still manage to get up and start again the next day. I can do that, too! Plus, let’s be real: while I did deal with some real adversity as a kid, I’m sure I did a fair bit of complaining about trivial stuff, too. Of course my mom told me to get a grip. There are bigger things happening in the world, kid!
Like everyone, it’s now up to me to sort through what I was taught when I was growing up and to determine what pieces of it serve and what pieces of it don’t. As I mentioned above, I’ve been pretty clear about my feelings on toxic positivity since I first learned the phrase a couple of years ago.
But here’s the thing: my opinion about toxic positivity may have changed since I’ve become a parent.
As promised, let’s do a little level-setting. I’m going to go ahead and quote an article from Verywell Mind, which (I think) gives a nice definition while also summarizing some of the concerns that come with toxic positivity.
Toxic positivity is the belief that people should maintain a positive mindset no matter how dire or difficult a situation is. While there are benefits to being optimistic and engaging in positive thinking, toxic positivity rejects all difficult emotions in favor of a cheerful and often falsely positive façade.
Having a positive outlook on life is good for your mental well-being.1 The problem is that life isn't always positive. We all have painful emotions and experiences. While often unpleasant, those emotions need to be felt and dealt with openly and honestly to achieve acceptance and greater psychological health.2
Toxic positivity takes positive thinking to an overgeneralized extreme. This attitude doesn't just stress the importance of optimism—it also minimizes and even denies any trace of human emotions that are not strictly happy or positive.
As a result of the discourse around toxic positivity, I’ve grown increasingly skeptcial about conversations regarding perspective. I’m sure it helps plenty of people untangle their feelings, but it’s just not it for me.
Then again, I have a new theory to test—or (at the very least) a new question to ask…
Is there such a thing as toxic positivity in parenting?
It kind of pains me to say it, but my hypothesis is that… there might not be.'
Even the skeptic in me kind of thinks that your positivity can’t be too big or too much to be toxic in parenting, especially in these early stages when a single day can stretch on for years and make you feel truly beaten to a pulp. (Or so I’ve heard.)
Currently Reading: Colton Gentry’s Third Act by Jeff Zentner
No offense to you (who I’m currently writing this for) or my child (who I am currently—and basically always—tending to), but I would really just rather be reading this book right now. It initially came to me because Jeff’s and my mutual editor wanted me to take some cues from the format of Colton Gentry as I work on edits for my novel, but now I just want to get lost in the story. I’m sure I’ll have lots more to say soon!
The exact same behaviors that I might identify as toxic positivity in other areas of life might be described very differently when it comes to caretaking—and all of those names might feel a whole lot less icky, at least to me. I was discussing this theory with my therapist this morning, and she offered up these phrases as alternatives: hopefulness, optimism, and resilience.
I do believe that these three words have played a major role in my experience with parenthood so far, but for me, they’re all wrapped up in a bigger package that does feel a whole lot like what I would consider toxic positivity.
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