The dark side of ‘brightsiding’: Why you should avoid toxic positivity in times of crisis
Thousands of structures have been damaged in the fires that have besieged Los Angeles. Which means you likely know someone (or several people) who has experienced the loss of their home and beloved possessions. Your instinct is to reach out — and you should. But too often, we hear phrases like:
“Things are replaceable.”
“Look on the bright side — at least you’re safe!”
“It’s just stuff.”
Or, perhaps worst of all: “You should make a gratitude list.”
This is toxic positivity, and according to Yvonne Thomas, a Los Angeles-based psychologist specializing in grief and loss, it is an act that “interferes in an artificial way with a person being able to genuinely be in touch and feel their feelings, even if those feelings are not so pleasant but appropriate to the given moment.”
It’s a tendency to put a ceaselessly positive spin on everything, even when it’s not called for. For example, telling someone who has just lost their home, “At least you’re alive,” can feel dismissive and invalidate their pain. Similarly, assuring someone who has lost a home or a loved one that “everything happens for a reason” can make them feel pressured to suppress their grief rather than process it naturally.
Experts in processing grief and trauma say there’s no right way to comfort a friend during a time of devastation. The most important thing is that you reach out.
It can worsen things when someone uses these phrases during a time of loss. In a disaster zone, like the unprecedented fires in L.A., it can be overwhelming. Avoid saying things like, “Don’t worry. Things can only get better,” “You’ll get back on your feet in no time,” or “At least you still have each other.”
When you’re offering condolences, it’s important to remember to let the person who is feeling the trauma find those moments of positivity for themselves.
“If someone’s lost their home, they’re having flurries of emotion,” says Thomas. “Let them tell you, ‘Oh, at least I was able to save my cat,’ but don’t say that for them.”
When Christina Glabas lost everything in a house fire in Portland, Ore., in 2018, her mother immediately told her that everything would be fine, that she was strong and she’d land on her feet.
“I found that so alienating,” says Glabas. “I never said that I would be OK.”
For Glabas, people assuming how she was feeling was stressful and even harmful to her.
“Doing things that are not helpful in this situation can actually push people over the edge,” she says. “Now, I’ve got to lie to you to make you feel better about what you said.”
And, Glabas says, it’s important to remember that people will need support — both materially and emotionally — for years after the tragedy. She remembers a period of post-traumatic stress when the fire was the only thing she could talk about.
“Remember that this will be their lives for the next three to five years,” she says. “They’re going to be talking about that — and maybe only that — for years, and that needs a lot of patience. A lot of people are gathering for support in the days after, but where’s the help a year later?”
Still, Thomas says it’s important to remember that there’s a fine line between toxic positivity and just plain toxic negativity.
“You don’t want to sugarcoat, overlook and not acknowledge what has happened,” she says, “but you also don’t want to be so demoralizing and feeling so upset yourself that that’s going to add more upset to the other person. It can make the other person depressed, so they don’t even hear your condolences.”
The havoc caused by the blazes — more than 28,000 acres have been scorched — necessitates immediate and long-term relief.
In the wake of a disaster, a whirlwind of emotions can arise, often catching people off guard. Among these feelings is a complex blend of resentment and jealousy, even toward those who have lost everything. This emotional turmoil is compounded by an overwhelming sense of empathy and overidentification with the victims, which, paradoxically, can lead to harmful consequences.
“Many individuals are experiencing survivor’s guilt,” explains Thomas, highlighting a common yet deeply unsettling reaction. This guilt can manifest in various ways, from questioning why they were spared to feeling undeserving of their safety, which further complicates the healing process for both survivors and bystanders alike.
The best thing to do, she says, is to keep it simple.
“People don’t know how to say, ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’” she says. “It’s one of the hardest things to do.”
Often, the most meaningful gesture is to keep it simple and sincere: “I’m sorry for your loss.” Offering a listening ear or a comforting presence can speak volumes when words feel inadequate.
And for those navigating pain and loss, it can be helpful to allow others to offer support, even if they stumble in their efforts. Open the door to connection, express your needs clearly and remember that vulnerability can foster deeper understanding and healing. Let people be there for you, don’t bury your feelings, but make it clear how you’d like to talk about your loss.
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