This ticks me off. The thing that sucks is that this jackass was me. I didn’t really internalize how very unhelpful comments like this were until I had kids with my husband and they got old enough to fail at things. If one of our children didn’t do well in school, I always saw it as a learning opportunity. My husband saw (and still sees) it as proof that the kids will fail in school, so they won’t get into college; if they don’t get into college, they’ll wind up poor, addicted to drugs and living in a flophouse somewhere where they’ll die young and stupid.
That was pretty much drummed into him for his entire childhood by his dad and his grandparents and he has a really hard time of controlling it. And it comes from the right place - he loves our kids, wants the best for them and is absolutely terrified that if he doesn’t push and push, they won’t do it themselves. I didn’t get until a few years ago that rolling my eyes and being all Pollyanna-ish was not only unhelpful but incredibly insulting. We’ve learned to compromise: I don’t let crap like that come out of my mouth anymore, he tries to assess worst case vs. likelihood whenever the anxiety monster kicks in.
Thank goodness for compassionate and honest family therapists.
This was in the late eighties/early nineties. She recommended Tom Robbins’s novels to me. Even at the time they struck me as Reaganomics dressed up in hippie clothing. This sort of personal responsibility uber alles, suggesting that anything that happens is your choice even on a cosmic level, shows up in a lot of new age authors, going back an age or two.
Back in May when I was diagnosed with cancer, I called my mother to let her know. Immediately she launched into a sermon about the importance of staying positive and not falling into despair. I stopped her before she could go much further and I told her to not give me any of that bullshit (yes, I said “bullshit” to my mother and the sky did not fall somehow). I had just gotten the worst news of my life. I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t suicidal. I wasn’t desparing. But hell yes, I was sad and freaking out. Why wouldn’t I be? I told her that if she was expecting me to put on a fake-happy face for the next six months, well, I didn’t want her to come visit me or even talk to me. Because I wasn’t going to swallow my emotions like that. She was quiet for a little bit and then said “OK”.
Fast forward a month and half. She calls me up in the midst of her COVID19 illness practically screaming because she’s in so much pain and misery. My mind immediately flashed to the “stay positive!” pep talk she had given me. But the memory was only a flash because I felt so bad for her. I had no advice to give her and it was awful.
I do think my mother has learned from both of our suffering since she has stopped saying all that “stay positive!” stuff. I think she’s still believer in the bullshit notion that positive thoughts make for positive outcomes. But she now understands that it is terrible thing to say to someone when they are going through a horrible situation they’ve never had to deal with before.
Exactly. Telling someone that they can control how they feel basically says, “If this is making you feel bad, that’s a character failing and you should feel bad about it.” It’s not the world’s best message.
My dad used to tell us kids “Grow up or blow up” whenever we were sad about anything. So I quickly learned that I could never be sad…around my parents. I would tell my teachers when I was sad because at least they tried to care. I feel bad for kids who don’t have anyone to turn to.
Toxic positivity seems especially pervasive with cancer. It just seems like so many people believe that positive thinking will literally save you, more so than with other diseases or problems.
My grandfather and one of my parents’ business partners both died of cancer and were both fully convinced they were going to make it right up until they didn’t. They were also both into alternative therapies, for whatever that’s worth. I guess it’s at least some comfort that they didn’t see the train coming and that the toxic positivity was something they embraced rather than another external source of misery.
Hope you’re doing well these days. It’s an especially scary time to be less than 100%.
Another poor effect of “just stay positive” just played out with Chadwick Boseman, and before that Aretha Franklin. Both died intestate because they were convinced they had it beat.
I’ve seen little change in the amount of toxic positivity over the decades, except for protest periods in the '60s. Try watching a movie from the '40s or '50’s. If anything, it was worse.
Oh geeze, I had the reverse of that. In first grade, my previously sweet teacher finally snapped one day when I was (quietly) crying in class because I missed my recently deceased grandmother. Yep, yelling at me in front of the entire class to JUST STOP IT worked so well that, years later at my grandfather’s funeral, I tried extra hard to make sure I didn’t cry in public.
In second grade, my teacher repeatedly wrote me up for “lack of self control.” Having what would today be defined as a panic attack because you couldn’t complete the 100+ problem math quiz in five minutes? No self control. Sobbing because you got stuck trying to get off the little merry-go-round and ended up getting dragged through the gravel, tearing your legs up? No self control. (I have no idea why anyone thought gravel was an appropriate surface for a playground… It was under the swings too.)
On the plus side, when I ripped a bunch of blisters on my hands open while practicing pull-ups in high school, the coaches were very impressed that I wasn’t screaming about it.
Every time I opine on today’s weather, i.e. “boy it’s a hot one today”, my wife responds with "that’s because you’re wearing long pants (or sleeves, or whatever).
I don’t deny that I’m responsible for dressing to my own comfort level, however I should be able to observe that it’s a hot one today without putting on Bermuda shorts and a pith helmet.
Not to excuse what sounds like very obnoxious behavior, but that quote resembles a better-known and somewhat more-helpful Buddhist saying that “pain is inevitable, suffering is optional”.
That rings true to me. I can’t much control events that come my way, but I do have quite a bit of control over how I respond. Some of my responses will make me feel worse or increase the drama level, so I refrain from those. Usually.
Oh, I’ve got another one. When you’re caregiver for a family member in the middle of a crisis. “Don’t forget, self-care is so important! Make sure you take time out for yourself. Go for a run! Meditate and make sure you eat lots of veggies!”
When would I do that? When I’m sleeping at the hospital and feeding my mom ice chips, terrified out of my mind and exhausted? Or running from appointment to appointment with my equally-terrified mom? Oh, wait, when I’m working through various nightmare scenarios where she passes away or I have to find a decent assisted living facility for her and find thousands a month to shell out for her care because she’s been irresponsible with her money while simultaneously managing to work full time and manage my family?
Yes, self-care is extremely important right now, moreso than it was before, but I can’t think beyond what happens this afternoon, let alone contemplate when I’m going to set all these balls I’m juggling aside to go for a jog.
I have had clinical depression. Although I found this advice to be a tinge unhelpful or sympathetic when I heard it, I feel like it’s incredibly important.
Depression tricks you into thinking you have no control, agency, or psychological reserves to change your situation. So the first hard lesson is to understand that although I have no control over what the world sends me, I can learn to control my responses. I have to. Nobody else can do that for me. If I don’t learn to do it myself, then I’ll feel bad forever.
That’s why depression is hard. The advice you really need comes at a time when you are least able to accept it. But people do, so it’s important to keep trying.
When I became, by default, the primary caretaker for my father, who was slipping fast into dementia, at the same time he was losing his ability to walk, I heard this pretty fucking often. Including from my sister, who never did a damn thing to help (but definitely insisted in being in the loop on his financial matters and estate planning). She hasn’t visited our father in years.
And all this happened at the same time that I had three small children (I married and had children later in life than most people) and was working a full time job.
My sister, the above-mentioned sibling, responded to any claim by me that I didn’t have time for something, or that I was doing the absolute best I could, would always respond by saying “I raised two children [neither of whom ever visits their grandfather either, by the way], I know how it is, you can do it, just take care of yourself.”
Yes, she raised two children. When her father was twenty-something years younger and healthy. And she would skip over the fact that she never worked a day outside the home after she got married. Not one.
When I was 16, my parents were killed when a van fleeing a police chase hit their car broadside at 90 MPH. I was devestated. When I returned to school after two weeks, I was trying to find out what I missed. My English Lit teacher said, “Well, you have a lot of catching up to do, so you’ll just have to move past this.”
Really?! Thanks for the advice. I’ll have it “moved past” by tomorrow morning at the latest.
Damn, you’re powerful. I wish I could control the weather like that.
Yes and no. The most useful thing that a counselor ever said to me was: “Is that what you usually think about when you’re feeling down?” I thought about it over then next few weeks, and it sort of was. I learned to short circuit some of the bad self-talk when I was down. To make a note and come back to it when I felt better, to see if it was an actual problem or not. I didn’t feel better, I just wasn’t beating myself up when I was down.
Damn. If that’s the voice of a volunteer, great. If it isn’t - damn, that’s masturbatory advice.
When I tell someone in that situation to “take care of themself” I usually mean “don’t forget to eat at least sometimes and try to get some sleep in there” rather than a bunch of happy-woo. I’ll make a note to be careful how I phrase these things going forward.
