You Want Positivity? The Most Subtle Form of Workplace Bullying

During that period, I was not in a good state.

It wasn't that something specific had collapsed, but that even tiny fluctuations would get me stuck:
a message with an ambiguous tone, a meeting where I had no chance to speak, even a "read" without a like in return.

I tried mentioning it to people around me, saying "I've been pretty anxious lately," and the responses were almost identical:
"Don't overthink it, stay positive."
"Don't get stuck in a rut, you're fine."
"Learn to handle pressure, it's part of growing."

I know they meant well. But that day I really couldn't hold it in anymore, and I shot back: "I'm already compressed into a lump of coal, and you want me to handle even more pressure?"

They froze, and so did I.
I suddenly realized this wasn't the first time I'd been positivity-PUA'd in the workplace.

Many people talk about staying away from negative energy,
but few remind you: the person who is "always positive" might be the one who crushes you the most.

Positivity isn't wrong, but when it becomes a suppression mechanism, it creates emotional drain

Brené Brown's book The Gifts of Imperfection has a line:

"We cannot selectively numb emotions; when we numb the painful emotions, we also numb the positive emotions."

This quote exposes a common misconception: that not showing emotions is a sign of maturity and professionalism.

But look back, and you'll see that truly effective leaders are never expressionless, unflappable people.
They are people who can make clear decisions even while experiencing emotions.

Why are we trained in the workplace to become more and more like emotional robots?
Because "stable," "sunny," and "resilient under pressure" are over-praised.
But the cost is that we become increasingly afraid to admit our exhaustion, anger, and uncertainty.

I've even seen scenes like this:

The project was a mess, no one wanted to tell the truth,
and someone in the group was still posting "Go team, we're the best!" emojis.
If you pointed out problems, they'd say you were being too gloomy and should look at the bright side.

That kind of atmosphere isn't unity; it's collective numbness.

Accepting emotions doesn't mean being emotional; truly mature people can translate emotions into information

So how did I get out of it?

There wasn't any earth-shattering epiphany. I just started practicing one habit:

When I begin to feel emotionally drained, instead of rushing to deny the emotion, I ask myself: What does this represent that I care about?

For example: anger at being ignored in a meeting means I want to be heard, not that I'm trying to cause drama; frustration because a proposal was shelved means I'm invested in the outcome, not that I care too much about appearances; annoyance at being interrupted in public means I value respect, not that I'm overly sensitive.

The motivations behind these are actually values, not negative energy.

Brené Brown wrote an article titled Clear is kind. Unclear is unkind. The core idea is that clearly expressing your expectations and feedback is a form of true kindness; being vague is what actually hurts people.

Often we aren't even clear about our own emotions, which is why we get stuck in the shame of feeling like everyone else is fine and only I am suffering.
But if we can clearly tell ourselves: "I'm upset right now because I care about being respected,"
then we are no longer slaves to our emotions, but people who are beginning to build a self-support system.

Three pillars of my emotional resilience system

My approach isn't about clocking in for meditation or writing a daily gratitude journal.
It's something I figured out after repeatedly hitting emotional walls. It's not a cure-all, but it's practical. And I'm still refining it.

First, identify the situational patterns that easily trigger emotions.
For example, there was a time when just hearing someone say "you're overthinking it" would instantly max out my emotions.
Later I realized that was actually a habitual defense against frustrated expression: one sentence from someone else would make me subconsciously negate myself, and the urge to speak would die out.
So I started deliberately practicing: even if I freeze up in the moment, I first try to paraphrase what the other person said, then express my own reaction.
Slowly, some emotions became like false positives in debugging—once you see them clearly, they dissipate.

Second, I don't rush to control my emotions; instead, I name them first.
Rather than forcing myself to feel better quickly, I prefer to first admit: I am indeed feeling wronged, tired, and a bit defeated.
Just like in debugging, the first step isn't fixing the bug, but reproducing it.
Emotions are the same: label them first, understand them, and only then can you truly process them.
This isn't being melodramatic; it's honesty and respect toward yourself.
And emotions aren't the problem themselves; avoidance is.

Third, I learned to choose the people I can review emotions with.
Not everyone can walk with us through the valleys of emotion.
But there are a few people who, when I'm a complete mess, don't rush to give advice or tell me not to overthink, but instead help me scoop out the contents of the pot together.
Real support isn't about immediately extinguishing emotions, but having someone who can first help you recognize and sort them out.
Only after that do we have the energy to do something else.

What drains a person most in the workplace is never negative emotions, but the inability to have emotions

Have you noticed that the more you're labeled as someone who "can handle things," the less anyone asks "Are you okay?"

We've been praised for being "stable" and "rational" for so long that we actually believe we're not allowed to have emotions.
But in the end, what breaks us is precisely these emotions that never got a chance to be digested,
and the people who keep telling you "you're fine."

Brené Brown offers a more powerful perspective:

Vulnerability is not weakness; it's our greatest measure of courage.

I increasingly believe this:

Truly mature people in the workplace are not those without emotions, but those who can stay clear-headed and keep moving forward even in the midst of emotions.

So, if next time someone says to you: "Don't overthink it, stay positive,"
you can gently but firmly reply:

"I'm not being negative, I'm just being a little real."

Finally, a note about Brené Brown, who is mentioned in this article. She is a researcher who is very good at speaking plainly.

Her research topics sound a bit different—things like "shame," "vulnerability," "emotional resilience"... But she always manages to say them in the gentlest yet most piercing way, leaving people nodding silently: yes, that's exactly me.

She gave a TED talk on the power of vulnerability and has written several books, including Dare to Lead and The Gifts of Imperfection. More importantly, she says the things many people are afraid to say.

Her most famous quote is the one cited above:

Clear is kind. Unclear is unkind.

In her books and podcasts, she consistently conveys one message: courage is not pretending to be fearless, but knowing you will be afraid and vulnerable, yet still choosing to face it.

So, when you have those moments in the workplace—the ones where you can't speak up, you've been hurt a little, and you still have to pretend everything is fine—or when you're being positivity-PUA'd, Brené's words might be exactly what you need right now.