Toxic Positivity: What’s Hiding Behind My Smile

PSA: If you are offended by foul language, you probably want to skip this post.

I have always smiled—a lot.

Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it. My face just naturally settles into a smile. Some people suffer from RBF (Resting Bitch Face). I guess I was blessed with RNF (Resting Nice Face).

Most of the time, I’m genuinely happy, and my smile isn’t forced. But there are other times when I’m smiling despite feeling incredibly sad, angry, disappointed, frustrated, or just plain exhausted.

Lately, those times seem to be happening more often.

It is really hard for me to separate what is happening to me physically from what is happening to me emotionally. I still have to function in my roles as a wife, mom, friend, employee, yadda, yadda, yadda. Life doesn’t stop because I’m having a bad day—or because my body isn’t cooperating.

So most days, when I’m angry because I need help just getting out of bed, or I’m sad because I can’t participate in everyday activities, I plaster a smile on my face and tell myself to “fake it until I make it.”

There are plenty of reasons I do this:

• It isn’t exactly socially acceptable to walk around screaming, crying, or having a meltdown.
• People are naturally attracted to and like being around happy people.
• I genuinely believe that positive energy matters and that what we focus on influences our experience of life.
• I live with three males who love me and try their best, but who struggle when their wife/mom is crying or angry.
• Sometimes I’m afraid of where my mind will take me if I let myself go too far down the rabbit hole of negativity.
• And honestly, I want to be happy. I want my smile to be genuine. So sometimes I try to force myself toward that feeling.

But there is a problem with constantly forcing yourself to be positive:

Eventually, something has to give.

I’ve written before about how, since my MS diagnosis, I have been perpetually moving through different stages of grief—the loss of function, the fear of future disability, the things I can no longer do, and the uncertainty of what comes next.

I spent many years in denial. I have experienced acceptance of some of my limitations, and that actually feels like a good place to be.

I’m still doing Dr. Joe’s work. I still meditate every day. I still believe healing is possible. I still believe that our thoughts, emotions, energy, and beliefs matter.

But lately, I have felt stuck.

I have been struggling to maintain the positive outlook that has helped carry me through so much of my life.

I know, intellectually, that anything is possible. I know what I believe about positive energy, heart-brain coherence, and creating the life I want.

But knowing something intellectually doesn’t mean my nervous system is always on board.

Lately, fear, anger, sadness, frustration, and resentment have been showing up throughout my days. These emotions are a normal part of being human. The difference is that I’m experiencing them at a level that I haven’t been able to manage on my own.

Antidepressants were helpful when what I was dealing with felt more chemical. I’ve been off antidepressants for two years, and meditation has genuinely helped me redirect many of the thoughts and emotions I once considered “negative.”

But lately, meditation hasn’t been enough.

I’ve been having more and more episodes of depression and anger.

And the truth is…

I’m fucking sick of putting on a happy face.

This shit is hard.

Every. Fucking. Second. Of. Every. Fucking. Day.

I’m not asking for pity. I’m not looking for anyone to feel sorry for me.

I just want people to understand that sometimes there is a LOT more happening behind this smile than you realize.

There is a shitload of anger.

And I’m giving myself permission to have a fucking temper tantrum.

As the reader, you have the luxury of tuning this out. You can stop reading and go on with your day.

I don’t have that luxury.

I can’t just stop reading the thoughts in my own head.

I have to live with them.

And I’ve realized something important: I don’t have to be positive every second of the day in order to be a spiritual person. I don’t have to suppress anger in order to believe in healing. I don’t have to pretend I’m okay in order to be grateful for the things that are good in my life.

I can be angry and grateful.

I can be devastated and hopeful.

I can be pissed off at my circumstances and believe that healing is possible.

Maybe those things aren’t opposites after all.

My anger and depression are rooted in my current physical reality. I am so fucking pissed that I’m confined to a wheelchair. I’m pissed that I need help with things I used to do without thinking. I’m pissed that my body has become something I have to constantly negotiate with.

And I’m pissed because this doesn’t just affect me.

Jeremy is amazing. He does so much for me, and my physical limitations affect his life in ways that are completely different from how they affect mine. I know the last thing he needs is to constantly deal with me crying, raging, or being angry about a situation that neither of us asked for.

So I needed to find somewhere for all of this anger to go.

I needed a safe outlet.

Finding a Different Way to Feel

That realization led me to explore some alternative therapies.

In January, I started seeing an Ayurvedic/Eden Energy practitioner for energy work, and she introduced me to tapping.

Tapping, or Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT), involves lightly tapping specific points on the face and upper body while focusing on emotions, thoughts, or physical sensations. It’s sometimes compared to acupuncture, but instead of needles, you use your fingertips.

I’d actually had friends who work in therapy suggest tapping to me in the past. In February, I purchased Nick Ortner’s book, The Tapping Solution for Manifesting Your Greatest Self: 21 Days to Releasing Self-Doubt, Cultivating Inner Peace, and Creating a Life You Love.

I read the book and tapped through my emotions almost every day.

But honestly?

I wasn’t really feeling much benefit.

The tapping felt almost mechanical. I was saying the words, doing the motions, checking the box.

Then, a couple of months ago, Jeremy asked me how I felt about seeing a hypnotist.

The next day, I Googled “hypnotist in Bloomington” and found a hypnotherapist, Nell Weatherwax, whose website immediately struck a chord with me.

So I scheduled an appointment.

When Nell called me beforehand to ask some general questions and just chat, I felt an instant connection.

Then I showed up for my first appointment in March, not really knowing what to expect.

The first thing Nell said to me after we introduced ourselves was:

“Wow, your smile lights up a room!”

My smile precedes me.

After we talked about my situation, she introduced me to several techniques for processing the emotions that had become so overwhelming.

One of those techniques was tapping.

But this time, it was completely different.

Before, when I tapped through my emotions, it had felt like a rote exercise. I was going through the motions without really feeling anything.

Nell encouraged me to put the actual emotion behind the words.

So we tapped.

And tapped.

And tapped.

And for a long time, we allowed some pretty fucking powerful emotions to come to the surface.

I cried.

I screamed.

I cussed.

I felt rage.

I felt grief.

And when we finished, I felt an enormous sense of relief.

It was completely different from anything I had experienced tapping on my own.

Nell also guided me through some self-hypnosis sessions.

After that first appointment, I was mentally exhausted.

And for good reason.

I’ve been doing mind/body work for two years, but I think this was the first time I truly allowed myself to authentically feel a lot of the emotions I had labeled as “negative.”

And that was when I started to understand something I hadn’t fully understood before.

Toxic Positivity

Nell told me that I had been experiencing what is often called toxic positivity—the tendency to apply an overly optimistic perspective to every situation in a way that denies, minimizes, or invalidates genuine emotions.

I immediately knew she was right.

I’ve been saying more and more lately that I don’t want to look happy.

I want to actually feel happy.

I want to smile because I’m happy—not because I think everyone else needs me to be.

And I want to make something very clear: I know I have a TON to be happy about.

I have beautiful people in my life. I have moments of genuine joy. I laugh. I experience gratitude. I still believe in possibility. I still believe in healing.

This isn’t about dismissing any of that.

It’s about making room for the other stuff, too.

Living with a neurological disease creates emotions that are outside anything I could have imagined before experiencing it myself.

Since being introduced to Dr. Joe and other mind/body techniques, I’ve honestly been afraid to let those emotions out.

I thought that if I gave my anger attention, I would create more anger.

If I focused on negativity, I would attract more negativity.

If I allowed myself to feel hopeless, I would somehow become hopeless.

Boy, was I wrong.

Pushing those emotions down didn’t make them disappear.

It made them stronger.

They accumulated.

They waited.

And every few months, they would eventually explode into an angry, hateful, pessimistic outburst that felt almost impossible to control.

Those emotions didn’t need to be eliminated.

They needed to be felt.

And thankfully, I have found a way to feel them without allowing them to completely overwhelm me.

I’ve seen Nell three times so far, and I plan to continue seeing her as needed.

I am incredibly grateful that Jeremy suggested hypnosis.

I’m grateful that I was willing to try something different.

And I’m grateful that, somehow, the universe led me to Nell at exactly the right time.

I am learning that healing isn’t always about becoming more positive.

Sometimes healing means becoming more honest.

Sometimes it means allowing yourself to be angry.

Sometimes it means screaming and crying and cussing and admitting, “This fucking sucks.”

And then, once you’ve finally allowed yourself to feel it, you can let it move through you instead of carrying it around inside you.

I don’t have all of this figured out.

This is a new chapter in my healing journey, and I’m sure there will be plenty more to learn.

But for now, I have something I didn’t have before:

permission to feel everything.

So please don’t mistake my smile for evidence that everything is okay.

Sometimes it means I’m genuinely happy.

Sometimes it means I’m choosing joy.

Sometimes it means I’m trying to get through the day.

And sometimes, there is a whole lot of fucking rage sitting right behind it.

I’m learning that all of those versions of me can exist at the same time.

And maybe that’s what authentic healing actually looks like.

Fill Your Bucket