When positivity masks pain, it can come at a heavy price

Alpine sliding down the longest track in Europe sounded incredibly exciting. So when I was lucky enough to spend a few days in Switzerland with my siblings a few summers ago, and they suggested Alpine sliding, I was all in.

I stood on top of the mountain, the overpriced, yellow souvenir sunglasses I’d bought to protect my eyes from the sun sliding off my nose, and looked down as people got in their cars and zoomed down.

Then it was our turn.

I got in, pressed on the pedal, and haltingly inched along the track. I was petrified.

My brother, riding in the car behind me, felt responsible to make sure I didn’t hold up everyone on the track, and kept yelling, “Chani, go, go!” With no choice, I went.

There I was, going faster than my comfort level dictated, when the track simply became vertical. The only way out is through, I told myself, my heart in my stomach.

A few heart-stopping minutes later, I was finally safely at the bottom. I decided I’d enjoy the Swiss Alps more with my feet firmly on the ground.

“The only way out is through” is a maxim that holds true for many situations in life, some decidedly less glamorous and more painful than vacationing in the Alps. But what happens when we think we can get around it? What happens when we prefer putting on rose-colored glasses and looking past the darker parts of life? Here, we explore this phenomenon of toxic positivity, examine the toll it exacts, and suggest healthier alternatives.