I’m not happy even though I’m always smiling

“When I Laugh Lightly, I Am Often Carrying the Heaviest Things.”

In May 2023, my husband walked out of our home.

No warnings. No real closure. Just a quiet kind of abandonment that left the air heavy and my heart in pieces.

Since then, I’ve been alone.

I went through all the classic stages — denial, numbness, seething rage, aching sadness, and that strange kind of empty clarity that comes after the storm.

✦ I began to understand human nature — and something changed

I started to see things more clearly. The way people love when they’re broken. The way they leave when they’re scared.

The way connections can be engineered. That awareness gave me strength. But it also made it nearly impossible to let anyone close again.

✦ I’ve been unable to trust or connect

I haven’t dated since. Not because I haven’t had the chance — but because I am unable to love or trust anyone. I don’t trust easily. Not because I’m bitter, but because I see through things too quickly now — the games, the projections, the emotional unavailability dressed as charm.

People try to get close, and I smile. I laugh. I make light of everything. But the truth is — I feel miles away from everyone.

Aloof, detached, quiet inside even when I seem warm on the outside.

It’s not because I don’t want love. It’s because I no longer know what to do with it when it comes without safety, without depth, without truth.

✦ My energy feels drained, and I don’t know why

Every day, I wake up feeling like I’ve already used up half my battery just surviving the emotional weight.

I try to meditate, but my body resists stillness. I sit down to focus, and my mind floats away.

There’s a restlessness in me — not dramatic, but persistent — like a soul that’s quietly exhausted. Not from doing too much, but from holding back too much for too long.

✦ I’m not in a good place — but I’m aware

There’s no happy ending in this post. No profound realization wrapped in a neat quote. But Bo wei has ripped the last bit hope of love out of me.

Just the honesty of where I am: Not broken, not lost, but deeply tired.

Tired from surviving.

Tired from being strong.

Tired from knowing too much about how people work, and too little about how to let someone in again.

“The more I understand people, the harder it is to let them close.” So if you see me laughing — it’s not that I’m carefree. It’s just that the laughter keeps me afloat when the truth gets too heavy.

And maybe that’s okay for now.