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The danger of the "it gets better" and "positive thinking" mentalities. . .
or "Why grumpy cat is so popular: sometimes you can't 'out think' bad days"
Now I know that "Grumpy Cat," a lovely little kitty named Tardar Sauce, isn't actually grumpy but simply has a face shape that looks that way. However she makes a wonderful stand-in for us on those bad, frustrating days where we just want to growl at everyone. In a culture that is constantly trying to tell us to "be happy," "smile," or "look on the bright side," it is important to remember that it is okay to be sad, be grumpy, be angry, or not feel good. We shouldn't have to maintain a happy front day in and day out regardless of how we feel. And while laughing and smiling can make you feel better, they need to be genuine in order to work. Forcing a smile or laugh just pisses you off all the more, and often makes you feel more brittle than you already felt.
The danger of telling someone that "it gets better" or "just think positively, if you put enough good energy out then good things will happen" is that it can lead to the mind-set that better equals perfect, and that thinking positively will prevent bad things from happening. This can lead to a very dangerous let down and a nasty guilt cycle where you think that 'if only I had just been more upbeat, more positive, then I would be happy."
We (Americans, as that is my main cultural framework, though I have a feeling this may apply to other cultures as well) are taught from infancy that we have to be happy (not just that we deserve to be happy), and our culture implies, and sometimes outright says, that happiness once achieved should not be lost. Happiness is not really shown as an emotion, something that naturally occurs in cycles and in relation to events, objects, people, etc. Instead it is shown as a period of time, as something we can achieve.
In a way it reminds me of the myths of adulthood. This idea that you turn 18 and suddenly understand the mysteries of adulthood. Suddenly you have all the answers. This is not the way it works. And holding onto these myths is dangerous because it encourages us to hate on ourselves when it never happens. Since we aren't really encouraged to talk about these things, we don't clue into the fact that others are having the exact same experience. So we continue on, hating ourselves for something that we can't control.
Happiness is not an object we can achieve, and not being happy all the time does not make us less of a person. It does not make us broken. It doesn't mean we are inadequate. It most definitely doesn't mean we are bad. It is a fact of life. Happiness is an emotion, like sadness, like grief, like love. It can be triggered by certain things, it can be spontaneous, it can be connected to other emotions, it can be long lasting, and it can be fleeting.
Often life does get better, but it never gets perfect. It can't get perfect. We live in an imperfect world. Happiness cannot last forever. We wouldn't likely wouldn't recognize it if it did.
Instead we learn to recognize those moments when happiness might be able to flourish, to look for things that we can do that will encourage that emotion in us. We learn better coping skills to deal with problems that arise, and hopefully learn to seek out support from others when we need to. These are the things that make life better.
And one of the biggest things we can do is talk to each other. Talk honestly and openly about our lives, our hopes, our dreams, and our disasters. By doing this we build networks, we share skills, and we help others find the resources they might need to improve some facet of their lives. It may be possible to survive alone in this world, but as a community we can thrive. And it is in thriving that we find more opportunities to be happy.
That said, there are always going to be bad days. And after a period of happiness, after a longer length of time when things are better, there is nothing more frustrating than to have a period of bad days. Sometimes the better things have been, the harder it is to cope with the bad days.
One of the hardest things I am finding myself dealing with during Lyme treatment is this very thing, this roller coaster of improvements followed by bad days, especially when I am finally at a point in treatment where I am starting to realize just what healthy might possibly feel like. It is heartbreakingly aggravating to go from being able to dance and being pain free, to having trouble walking up stairs and hurting, which is what happened when I got a cold on top of a herxheimer reaction. I was too foggy to realize that it wasn't just a herx and so didn't think to skip my antibiotic and give myself a chance to recover until much later in the week.
Our bodies and minds are primed to forget pain and gloss over bad memories. After a good period, and this had been one of my longer good periods, I have trouble remembering just how bad I can feel sometimes, and just how much it sucks. I found that I was angry at myself, and at the world. I'm doing all the right things, my mind screamed, why do I feel this way again!
So I hid from the world, which is my fall back coping strategy when I get overwhelmed. I went to class and tried to keep up with my work, but came home immediately after. I slept as much as I could, which was what my body needed, but was equally frustrated by that need. I avoided social events, and stayed off social media for the most part.
I didn't want to blog about how I was feeling because I had been doing so well. Part of me felt like it was a let down to post about a bad week when I had just posted about doing better. A large part of me felt like folks would think that I was seeking attention or sympathy when really that was the last thing on my mind. I worried that people might start saying things like "why can't she post about happy things," "she's so negative all the time," "all she does is whines."
My confidence is usually shattered on bad days. I have trouble thinking clearly. I feel that people are going to look at me and just know that I barely got out of bed that morning, that a strong wind could knock me off balance, and that if they hugged me I might scream.
But the thing is, they can't. Most people are caught up in their own heads and own worlds. They aren't even looking for these things. They might notice I looked a little more zombie like, that I wasn't as chipper as I can be on the good days. By now my friends know that this means an increase in antibiotics and are usually kind and understanding.
But I'm so unused to this understanding that I never expect it. I'm still training myself out of the "you have to be upbeat all the time" mentality. I find it hard to lean on others when I need the support, and during the bad weeks I do need the support badly. But as a little girl that care and support were missing or tainted, and I came to rely on myself more and more. I do have those I will reach out to, but even then sometimes they have to remind me that I can. I do know that without them I would not have made it this far through treatment.
But sometimes on the worst days I long for my mother. Not the one who raised me, but the one who could have raised me. The mother I caught glimpses of beneath the lies and hate. Those are the days where I've usually awoken from intense and disturbing dreams, achy and tired, disconcerted. Those are the days I'm most likely to hide from everyone as much as possible.
I've heard similar things from friends on and offline. And today in class we discussed an excerpt of Covering by Kenji Yoshino, which deals with the process of downplaying a disfavored trait. These two things combined in my head and resulted in this ridiculously long post.
I essentially realized three things: 1) I shouldn't be mad at myself for being human and having bad days, weeks or months; 2) these are issues that should be discussed and others probably feel the same way, and 3) those days that I feel most like hiding are the days I really need to reach out to others. And so this blog post was born.
Blessings and love.
Now I know that "Grumpy Cat," a lovely little kitty named Tardar Sauce, isn't actually grumpy but simply has a face shape that looks that way. However she makes a wonderful stand-in for us on those bad, frustrating days where we just want to growl at everyone. In a culture that is constantly trying to tell us to "be happy," "smile," or "look on the bright side," it is important to remember that it is okay to be sad, be grumpy, be angry, or not feel good. We shouldn't have to maintain a happy front day in and day out regardless of how we feel. And while laughing and smiling can make you feel better, they need to be genuine in order to work. Forcing a smile or laugh just pisses you off all the more, and often makes you feel more brittle than you already felt.
The danger of telling someone that "it gets better" or "just think positively, if you put enough good energy out then good things will happen" is that it can lead to the mind-set that better equals perfect, and that thinking positively will prevent bad things from happening. This can lead to a very dangerous let down and a nasty guilt cycle where you think that 'if only I had just been more upbeat, more positive, then I would be happy."
We (Americans, as that is my main cultural framework, though I have a feeling this may apply to other cultures as well) are taught from infancy that we have to be happy (not just that we deserve to be happy), and our culture implies, and sometimes outright says, that happiness once achieved should not be lost. Happiness is not really shown as an emotion, something that naturally occurs in cycles and in relation to events, objects, people, etc. Instead it is shown as a period of time, as something we can achieve.
In a way it reminds me of the myths of adulthood. This idea that you turn 18 and suddenly understand the mysteries of adulthood. Suddenly you have all the answers. This is not the way it works. And holding onto these myths is dangerous because it encourages us to hate on ourselves when it never happens. Since we aren't really encouraged to talk about these things, we don't clue into the fact that others are having the exact same experience. So we continue on, hating ourselves for something that we can't control.
Happiness is not an object we can achieve, and not being happy all the time does not make us less of a person. It does not make us broken. It doesn't mean we are inadequate. It most definitely doesn't mean we are bad. It is a fact of life. Happiness is an emotion, like sadness, like grief, like love. It can be triggered by certain things, it can be spontaneous, it can be connected to other emotions, it can be long lasting, and it can be fleeting.
Often life does get better, but it never gets perfect. It can't get perfect. We live in an imperfect world. Happiness cannot last forever. We wouldn't likely wouldn't recognize it if it did.
Instead we learn to recognize those moments when happiness might be able to flourish, to look for things that we can do that will encourage that emotion in us. We learn better coping skills to deal with problems that arise, and hopefully learn to seek out support from others when we need to. These are the things that make life better.
And one of the biggest things we can do is talk to each other. Talk honestly and openly about our lives, our hopes, our dreams, and our disasters. By doing this we build networks, we share skills, and we help others find the resources they might need to improve some facet of their lives. It may be possible to survive alone in this world, but as a community we can thrive. And it is in thriving that we find more opportunities to be happy.
That said, there are always going to be bad days. And after a period of happiness, after a longer length of time when things are better, there is nothing more frustrating than to have a period of bad days. Sometimes the better things have been, the harder it is to cope with the bad days.
One of the hardest things I am finding myself dealing with during Lyme treatment is this very thing, this roller coaster of improvements followed by bad days, especially when I am finally at a point in treatment where I am starting to realize just what healthy might possibly feel like. It is heartbreakingly aggravating to go from being able to dance and being pain free, to having trouble walking up stairs and hurting, which is what happened when I got a cold on top of a herxheimer reaction. I was too foggy to realize that it wasn't just a herx and so didn't think to skip my antibiotic and give myself a chance to recover until much later in the week.
Our bodies and minds are primed to forget pain and gloss over bad memories. After a good period, and this had been one of my longer good periods, I have trouble remembering just how bad I can feel sometimes, and just how much it sucks. I found that I was angry at myself, and at the world. I'm doing all the right things, my mind screamed, why do I feel this way again!
So I hid from the world, which is my fall back coping strategy when I get overwhelmed. I went to class and tried to keep up with my work, but came home immediately after. I slept as much as I could, which was what my body needed, but was equally frustrated by that need. I avoided social events, and stayed off social media for the most part.
I didn't want to blog about how I was feeling because I had been doing so well. Part of me felt like it was a let down to post about a bad week when I had just posted about doing better. A large part of me felt like folks would think that I was seeking attention or sympathy when really that was the last thing on my mind. I worried that people might start saying things like "why can't she post about happy things," "she's so negative all the time," "all she does is whines."
My confidence is usually shattered on bad days. I have trouble thinking clearly. I feel that people are going to look at me and just know that I barely got out of bed that morning, that a strong wind could knock me off balance, and that if they hugged me I might scream.
But the thing is, they can't. Most people are caught up in their own heads and own worlds. They aren't even looking for these things. They might notice I looked a little more zombie like, that I wasn't as chipper as I can be on the good days. By now my friends know that this means an increase in antibiotics and are usually kind and understanding.
But I'm so unused to this understanding that I never expect it. I'm still training myself out of the "you have to be upbeat all the time" mentality. I find it hard to lean on others when I need the support, and during the bad weeks I do need the support badly. But as a little girl that care and support were missing or tainted, and I came to rely on myself more and more. I do have those I will reach out to, but even then sometimes they have to remind me that I can. I do know that without them I would not have made it this far through treatment.
But sometimes on the worst days I long for my mother. Not the one who raised me, but the one who could have raised me. The mother I caught glimpses of beneath the lies and hate. Those are the days where I've usually awoken from intense and disturbing dreams, achy and tired, disconcerted. Those are the days I'm most likely to hide from everyone as much as possible.
I've heard similar things from friends on and offline. And today in class we discussed an excerpt of Covering by Kenji Yoshino, which deals with the process of downplaying a disfavored trait. These two things combined in my head and resulted in this ridiculously long post.
I essentially realized three things: 1) I shouldn't be mad at myself for being human and having bad days, weeks or months; 2) these are issues that should be discussed and others probably feel the same way, and 3) those days that I feel most like hiding are the days I really need to reach out to others. And so this blog post was born.
Blessings and love.