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Positivity Sucks

I read a great article today about positivity, and how it’s pervasive and aggressive smear campaign is garbage.

Honestly, I was all at once struck at how much relief I felt that I wasn’t alone in feeling that way. I’m generally a pretty nice person. I try and be kind, in all things. Which should not be confused with positivity. There’s a huge difference in being nice and being positive. There are huge differences in two. I can be kind to you, show you love and be a friend without always being positive.

Forced positivity is gross. Every time someone tells me to “just be positive!” I want to punch them in the mouth. It’s so unhelpful. How is stuffing my feelings and replacing it with just “positivity” going to help me in anyway-whatsoever?

Let me feel my rage. Let me feel my sads. Let me feel my grief.

Instead of covering it in fake positive vibes, ignoring your feelings – come and sit with me and acknowledge your feelings.

Where does your body feel hot? Hurting? Tune into what you want to say, but don’t. Just sit with your thoughts. That might make you uncomfortable. But you know what? It’s not fake. You aren’t pretending to be positive when you aren’t really feeling it.


Loving yourself first.

If there’s something that’s become increasingly more obvious to me as I’ve become older and more mature is that to deal with life’s challenges and be a better more whole person is that we have to heal ourselves and learn to love ourselves first, before we can be loved and be of true use to the world.

Not to say we can’t be loved and be useful to others without it – but I’ve come to a certain understanding slowly over the last few years.

I really don’t like myself.
I don’t think I deserve love. I don’t think I deserve happiness.

I do an awful lot to purposefully sabotage great things that are placed in front of me. Yes, purposefully. Why? That’s what therapy is for.

I am pretty sure it has something to do with deep-seated low self-esteem brought on by years of tormenting by bullies in grade school, sexual assault in my college years, and a challenging upbringing where I was not ever really held accountable for my actions.

When I begin to find myself comfortable or challenged I pick at the wound, like a scab. I do things unconsciously, railroading relationships and engaging in behaviors that cause my life to sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly careen off the tracks.

You would think by this point in my life I would have it in me to figure out how to stop it. Acknowledging and trying to do something about it is where I am right now, hoping that I can find a way to make the crazy train stop before it hits the next station, and heal enough that someday I’ll be able to really feel worthy.