If I Hear “It Could Be Worse” One More Goddamn Time…
When my mom died, they said, “She’s in a better place.”
When my dad passed, I heard, “He lived a good life.”
When my best friend and life-partner died, it was the infamous, “Be grateful for the time you shared.”
When I lost dozens of friends before their time, I was met with, “There’s a lesson in everything.”
And when I lost over a hundred schoolmates before the age of 40, someone hit me with the famous, “You’ve got to find the silver lining.”
When I was barely holding on, I was told it could be worse.
Thanks.
I wasn’t aware.
My favorite was when someone suggested I ‘find gratitude’ – as if I wasn’t already clinging to every scrap of joy that made life bearable.
Each time someone fed me one of those lines, my nervous system flared with rage.
For years I took it with a quiet smile and clenched jaw… but not anymore.
I don’t know who needs to hear this, but sometimes the only thing holding a person together is their grief. In those moments, optimism isn’t comforting, it’s just a polite way of saying ‘shut the fuck up.’
Yeah, sure, maybe it could be worse… but it doesn’t mean your pain isn’t valid too.
Toxic Positivity: The Smile That Gaslights You
Let’s be honest: toxic positivity is emotional duct tape. It’s what people slap over your pain when they’re too uncomfortable to sit with it.
Positivity can look like empathy, but it’s nothing more than denial.
And it’s everywhere.
It shows up in every Facebook post that says “choose happiness” while someone’s planning a funeral. It’s in every therapy session where your rage gets “reframed” into a growth opportunity before you’ve even finished crying. It’s in every Hallmark card shoved into a casserole at your lowest moment.
And don’t get me wrong – casseroles are welcome.
I remember making some asshole Facebook post a couple of days after the COVID shutdown, saying it was actually kind of convenient that my father and ex-mother-in-law both decided to die the day the world closed its doors. Everyone else was scrambling for toilet paper and frozen pizza, and meanwhile, my freezer was stocked wall-to-wall with grief lasagna. It was morbidly perfect.
I was working in healthcare, raising three kids alone, unexpectedly fostering two more, and my best friend-slash-soulmate-slash-roommate was hiding in the attic post-chemo from a cancer that would kill her within the year.
So again, no shade to the casseroles. But the platitudes? The chirpy advice to “find the lesson” in all of it? That shit wasn’t helpful – especially when I spent most of my days fantasizing about someone placing their hands on my face just to keep my head from exploding… during a time when physical touch could literally kill you.
Grieving during a pandemic left us with only one thing to offer: words. And while some were truly kind, the empty positivity? The dismissive “look on the bright side” bullshit?
That will never be forgotten.
Toxic Positivity is Dangerous
Toxic positivity isn’t just annoying, it’s dangerous. It teaches people to ignore their internal alarms, distrust themselves, and see their suffering as a moral failure (instead of the deeply human response it actually is).
Because apparently, the real problem isn’t the endless amount of bullshit life throws at you – it’s you, failing to manifest hard enough.
And worst of all? It shuts down the conversation before it ever had a chance to get real.
What people should be doing is validating the pain first.
Showing actual empathy.
Prioritizing compassion before advice.
Because when someone’s hurting, they don’t need a checklist or a reframe – they need a safe space to fall apart.
Validation creates trust. It says, “I see you. I support you. You’re not alone.”
That’s what makes someone open to help later… not some imaginary silver lining.
I swear the most comforting thing I heard in the throes of grief was, “Oh fuck, that’s a lot.”
“Everything Happens for a Reason” (And Other Lies We Tell to Shut People Up)
I used to believe it. That line: Everything happens for a reason. It felt comforting. Neat. Like pain could be sorted into a file cabinet and labeled “meaningful.”
But then a friend of mine lost someone they loved, and I offered it up, all warm and gentle: “Maybe everything happens for a reason.”
He looked at me like I had just kicked his dog and said, “Or maybe it just fucking happens.”
And damn if that didn’t stick.
Because here’s the thing: not everything happens for a reason. A lot of things just happen. They’re chaotic and brutal and unfair. And we desperately try to create some meaning to make it feel survivable.
It’s not wisdom – it’s a coping mechanism.
It’s not that meaning doesn’t exist. But forcing someone to extract meaning while they’re actively hemorrhaging pain? That’s not support. That’s cruelty dressed in a TED Talk.
You’re Not Crazy – You’re In a System That Demands Your Silence
This goes deeper than a few bad Instagram quotes. The reason toxic positivity has such a death grip on us is because it serves a purpose – for the system.
A capitalist system thrives when we’re productive, not emotional. A patriarchal system thrives when we’re agreeable, not angry.
So guess what? The moment we start raising our voices, breaking down, or asking for help… we’re suddenly labeled: Emotional. Dramatic. Hysterical.
It’s a hell of a strategy. Gaslight people until they believe that their normal reaction to a cruel world is the real problem.
And then sell them a dozen ways to fix themselves.
Buy this journal. Read this affirmation. Take this class. Try this face cream. Manifest harder. Smile more. Meditate the rage away. Align your chakras until your grief feels like gratitude.
Meanwhile, nothing changes.
The system stays untouched while we exhaust ourselves trying to heal in the same environment that continuously breaks us.
You’re Not Broken. You’re Reacting Like a Human Being.
I’m not here to trash hope. Hope is beautiful. But it’s not something you can force-feed people just because you’re uncomfortable with their pain.
And grief? Grief isn’t negative energy that needs to be cleaned up with sage and good vibes. Grief is love with nowhere to go. Grief is loyalty in a world that keeps taking. Grief is a mind-body response to loss of any kind… and it deserves to be respected.
You don’t need to be grateful for pain in order to survive it. You don’t need to “reframe” your heartbreak to make it palatable. You don’t need to wring inspiration out of your trauma to earn the right to talk about it.
Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is feel it all — ugly, raw, and unfiltered.
Rage, weep, swear, and collapse… and make space for others to do the same.
Because not everything is a lesson.
Some things don’t happen for a reason.
Some things are just loss.
Some things are just… life.
Why is sitting with grief so taboo, when loss is the only thing we’re all guaranteed to experience?
The Real Silver Lining? You’re Not Alone.
If you’ve ever been told to smile through it, be strong, find the good, count your blessings, or “keep things in perspective” – I see you.
If you’ve ever felt like the only sane person in an emotionally bankrupt world – I’ve been there. Hell, I live there.
Here’s what I know:
You’re not too much.
You’re not broken.
You’re not weak for feeling wrecked.
You’re just a person. A gloriously messy, feeling, surviving, adapting, emotionally intelligent human trying to live in a world that keeps demanding you shut up and smile.
So don’t.
Don’t shut up.
Don’t sanitize your story.
Don’t shrink your humanity into something marketable.
And when someone encourages you to find the silver lining?
Let them know you prefer to color outside the lines.