Please Don’t Tell Me to Look on the Bright Side

When being told to ‘stay positive’ only makes it lonelier.

When I was younger, I believed that positivity was the answer to everything. Keep smiling, stay grateful, push through. No matter what life threw at me, I was supposed to find the silver lining, to turn every setback into a lesson, every pain into growth.

It worked - until it didn’t.

I remember a time when I was struggling with anxiety so intense it felt like my body was rebelling against me. I told myself I just needed to think happy thoughts. Other people had it worse. I should be grateful. And when that didn’t work, I felt like I was failing at my own emotions. If positivity was the cure, why wasn’t I getting better?

That’s the problem with toxic positivity - it masquerades as kindness, but in reality, it shuts down real feelings. It tells us that sadness, anger, grief - anything uncomfortable should be buried under forced optimism. It leaves no space for struggle, only for a performance of resilience.

I used to think strength meant pushing through, smiling anyway. Now I know real strength looks different. Sometimes, it means admitting that things are hard. That you’re tired. That you don’t have a bright side to offer today.

Not every moment needs to be reframed into something inspirational. Some things just hurt. Some days are just heavy. And that is absolutely okay.

There’s a difference between hope and denial. Between encouragement and dismissal. Telling someone to “stay positive” when they’re in pain doesn’t help them - it isolates them. Because when your world is falling apart, nothing feels lonelier than being told you should be happy anyway.

We don’t heal by ignoring our emotions. We heal by allowing them. By giving ourselves permission to sit with them, to process them, to exist in the in-between without pressure to move on too quickly.

So, if toxic positivity isn’t the answer, what is? How do we make space for real emotions without getting stuck in them?

Here’s what helps:

1. Replace Positivity With Validation

Instead of forcing yourself (or someone else) to “look on the bright side,” try acknowledging what’s actually happening. “This is really hard. I can see why you feel this way.” Those words carry far more comfort than “At least it’s not worse.”

Self-validation is just as important. When difficult emotions come up, instead of pushing them away, practice saying: “It makes sense that I feel this way. This feeling is real, and it’s okay to sit with it.”

2. Allow Yourself to Feel Without Judgment

Sadness isn’t a failure. Anger isn’t something to be ashamed of. Frustration, grief, loneliness - these emotions aren’t problems to fix, they’re signals. They tell us something isn’t right, that we need rest, comfort, or change. Let yourself feel without immediately trying to “solve” the feeling.

One simple way to practice this is through journaling. Instead of writing about how you should feel, write about how you actually feel. No filters, no forced gratitude, just honesty.

3. Stop Shoulding Yourself Into Happiness

Ever caught yourself thinking, I should be over this by now. I should be grateful. I should just let it go? That’s toxic positivity sneaking in, convincing you that you’re wrong for feeling what you feel.

Instead of “shoulding” yourself into happiness, try shifting your language:

• Instead of “I should be grateful,” try “I can hold gratitude and pain at the same time.”

• Instead of “I should be over this,” try “Healing takes time, and I’m allowed to move at my own pace.”

4. Surround Yourself With People Who Make Space for All of You

Some people can only handle the version of you that’s smiling. They mean well, but they rush to cheer you up because your sadness makes them uncomfortable.

Seek out the ones who sit with you in the messy, unfiltered, not okay moments. The ones who don’t try to fix you, but instead say: “I’m here.” Those people are gold.

And if you don’t have them yet? Be that person for yourself.

5. Redefine What It Means to Be Strong

Strength isn’t pretending everything is fine. It’s feeling deeply and still moving forward, even if that movement is slow. It’s asking for help. It’s allowing yourself to rest. It’s knowing that some days, getting out of bed is enough.

There’s nothing wrong with hope. There’s nothing wrong with finding meaning in struggle. But positivity should never be used as a weapon against reality. You don’t have to rush to make things okay.

You are allowed to feel. To grieve. To have bad days without immediately searching for a lesson in them. You don’t have to turn everything painful into something pretty.

Some things just are. And that’s okay.

But it takes time to believe that especially if you were raised on a steady diet of “it could be worse” and “just stay positive.” Especially if you’ve been praised for being strong, for being the one who never complains, for always smiling even when your world was burning quietly in the background.

We internalise those expectations. They become the voice in our head that says, Don’t break down. Don’t make a scene. Don’t be a burden. And so we learn to filter our feelings until even we forget what they sound like without the mask.

But unlearning that voice is part of healing, too.

There’s nothing noble about pretending to be okay when you’re not.
There’s nothing weak about being honest about your pain.

Letting yourself feel what’s true is one of the most courageous things you can do. And it’s not always graceful. Sometimes it looks like crying in the car. Cancelling plans. Letting the dishes pile up. It looks like silence. Like softness. Like staying in bed and not apologising for it.

It looks like telling the truth - first to yourself, and then, maybe, to someone safe.

You don’t need to carry sunshine in your pockets for other people while your own sky is storming. You are not a failure for feeling the weight of being alive.

You’re a human being. And that’s more than enough.

So if today feels heavy, let it.
If you’re tired, rest.
If you’re hurting, speak it. Or write it. Or simply let it be known to yourself.

This isn’t about giving up. It’s about giving yourself space.

And that, too, is healing.

You don’t have to carry light to be worthy of love.
You don’t have to make sense of the pain while you're still in it.
You’re allowed to just be - raw, real, and resting.

With love.

Salwa

I write Quietly Becoming for those who crave honest, raw reflections on growth, boundaries, and mental well-being. If you found this helpful, join the subscriber community for exclusive deep dives, personal insights, and practical tools to support your own journey.

With love, Salwa