FunctionalRox

I’m all for positivity. Truly. I am everyone’s biggest hype woman. You did something fun, new, exciting? I’m going to be happy for you. You accomplished a milestone or did something you’re really proud of? Well, I’m really proud of you too. I love positivity and what it can offer to ourselves and others. It uplifts people. It creates connection. It builds community.

With that being said, I do believe there is such a thing as toxic positivity.

It sounds like such a weird term, almost like an oxymoron, but it’s real, it exists, and I’m not a fan.

In my eyes, toxic positivity shows up when someone opens up about a hard time in their life looking to be seen, heard, validated, and met exactly where they are and the response they receive is to be grateful or to look on the bright side. While those comments are often well intended, they can miss the mark entirely.

In smaller, more surface level situations, like losing an earring or something not being in stock, I can understand those responses. They can be brushed off or even laughed about. But when people are experiencing real trauma, real heartbreak, real pain, they aren’t looking to be reframed. They aren’t looking for silver linings.

They’re looking for empathy.

The push toward positivity in those moments can feel tone deaf and, at times, insensitive. It can unintentionally communicate that someone’s pain is uncomfortable and should be moved past. Even when that is not the intention, that is often how it lands.

What people need in those moments isn’t fixing or forced optimism. It is presence. Someone to listen. Someone to sit with the discomfort. Someone to say, “That sounds really hard,” and mean it.

Validation doesn’t trap people in negativity. Allowing someone to feel their pain doesn’t keep them stuck. It often helps them move through it. Positivity is powerful, but it tends to land best after someone feels seen and heard, not before.

There is space for hope, gratitude, and optimism. There is also space for grief, anger, sadness, and confusion. Both can exist. One doesn’t cancel out the other.

Sometimes, the most supportive thing you can offer isn’t a positive spin at all. Sometimes it’s simply sitting beside someone and saying, “I’m here with you.”

And that, in itself, can be healing.