
Let’s face it, one of the favorite words of our time is “toxic.”
We apply this label to people who annoy us (“my ex is toxic”), to jobs we don’t feel comfortable in (“that company has a toxic culture”), to family members who don’t live up to our expectations (“my mother is toxic”), and even to opinions that differ from our own.
What if the word “toxic” had become a catchall we used left and right to justify our intolerance of discomfort? What if we were using that word as an emotional shield to avoid what challenges us, frustrates us, or we simply don’t like?
The universalization of the toxic
Years ago, when we talked about a toxic relationship, we were referring to real dynamics of damage: control, emotional abuse, manipulation, violence, unhealthy jealousy, emotional blackmail, contempt … Behaviors that eroded the mental health of the other and made one thing clear: the bond was destroying you.
Today, we no longer need someone to yell at us, insult us, or try to manipulate us to set off all the alarm bells. Sometimes, all it takes is for someone to make us uncomfortable, question us, or fail to validate our emotions at the right moment. Then the label “toxic” appears, a word cloaked in supposed emotional wisdom to free us from having to dialogue, tolerate, or even rethink our role and responsibility in the relationship.
The problem with living in the age of hyper-positivity is that anything that makes us feel bad is automatically disposable, despicable, and “toxic.” But life doesn’t work that way. Human relationships involve friction, disagreements, and difficult moments. If we label everything that doesn’t fit our comfort zone “toxic,” we’ll end up isolated in a bubble of confirmation.
And it is that:
- A demanding boss isn’t necessarily “toxic,” perhaps he/she is right.
- A friend who contradicts you isn’t “toxic”; they could be preventing you from living in a bubble.
- A relationship with conflict is not automatically “toxic”; perhaps it is just necessary to learn to dialogue and compromise.
- A different opinion isn’t “toxic,” it could simply be reflecting another perspective.
Labeling uncomfortable things as toxic has benefits (apparently)
Why do we tend to label everything we don’t want to deal with as toxic? The simple answer: because it offers us very interesting emotional benefits, at least in the short term:
- It places us as victims of the bond. If the other person is “toxic,” we are automatically the “wounded” or “victim.” We are freed from the need to examine our responsibility in the dynamic.
- It justifies our escape. “I’m not walking away because I don’t know how to deal with discomfort; I’m walking away because I’m taking care of myself, ” is the implicit message behind labeling a situation as toxic. However, it can also be an elegant excuse to escape from what we don’t know how to deal with or don’t want to deal with.
- It exempts us from dialogue or reparation. “I’m not going to talk to someone toxic .” Period. That exempts us from making the effort to put ourselves in their shoes or reach an agreement. We simply dismiss what makes us uncomfortable and doesn’t fit us.
Discomfort is not always aggression
Sometimes discomfort and unease are signs that something isn’t right. However, we must also remember that in human relationships, discomfort is inevitable. And often even necessary.
It’s going to hurt when a friend tells you you’re being selfish. It’s going to bother you when your partner tells you you tend to play the victim. It’s going to annoy you when your boss demands more commitment from you.
That doesn’t make them toxic. They’re challenging you. They’re setting boundaries. Or they’re inviting you (perhaps awkwardly) to grow. But if you label any discomfort as “toxic,” you won’t have relationships that are truly worthwhile.
And be careful: that doesn’t mean tolerating anything. There are relationships that are truly destructive. But if everything seems destructive to you, perhaps the problem isn’t external, but rather in the way you see the world and relate to others.
The danger of trivializing the toxic
When we call something simply uncomfortable “toxic,” we trivialize experiences that are truly harmful. We diminish the burden on those who are victims of truly abusive relationships. If everything is toxic, nothing is. We lose the ability to distinguish between a demanding relationship and a destructive one.
Furthermore, we end up living in an impoverished emotional universe because when we try to isolate ourselves from conflicts and frictions, we also close the door to that valuable learning space that occurs when two different perspectives constructively disagree.
An emotional world where only what is comfortable, soft, and validating fits in can end up being, paradoxically, more dangerous than any tense bond because it makes us emotionally fragile.
Perhaps we’re unwittingly falling into an emotionally infantile way of interpreting reality: anything I don’t like is bad. Anything that makes me uncomfortable is violent. Anything that confronts me is toxic.
Where has the ability to sustain tensions gone? To disagree without canceling? To recognize that sometimes discomfort is a sign that we’re growing, not that we’re being attacked?
What we call “toxic” is sometimes simply something or someone who doesn’t fit our emotional script. But instead of revising that script, we focus on trying to “edit” others or the world. However, we must remember that we are all toxic at some point.
In short, not everything that makes you uncomfortable is toxic. Not everything that doesn’t validate you is abuse. Not everything that hurts you is a red flag. Sometimes it’s just someone being human, awkward, limited, different…
If we want to maintain real, mature, and complex relationships, we have to be prepared for disagreements. Because worthwhile relationships also come with a healthy dose of conflict. They also shake us up. And that doesn’t mean we should run away or dismiss them as toxic. Sometimes, we have to stay, look inward, and grow.
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