I put on the happy face because sometimes I can’t deal with you on top of dealing with my grief.
That’s the truth.
I don’t always have the strength to show up exactly as I am.
Because exactly as I am might be quiet.
It might be sad.
It might be irritated.
It might be distracted.
It might be me sitting there with absolutely nothing to say.
And somehow, when I show up that way, I can feel like I’ve done something wrong.
I can feel the discomfort.
I can feel people trying to pull me out of it.
Come on. Have some fun.
You need to get out.
It’s good to see you smiling.
You seem like you’re doing so much better.
And suddenly I’m not only dealing with how I feel.
I’m dealing with how you feel about how I feel.
That’s what I don’t have the energy for.
So sometimes I decide before I even walk through the door that I’m going to be okay.
Or at least look like I am.
I put the smile on.
I make myself talk.
I make myself participate.
I make sure nobody has to wonder what to do with me.
And the entire time, I know how hard I’m working just to look okay.
That’s the worst part.
Because I know I’m not being myself.
I know I’m pretending.
I know I’m spending energy I don’t have convincing everyone around me that I’m okay enough for them to relax.
And I resent it.
I resent feeling like my sadness needs to stay home.
I resent feeling like being quiet needs an explanation.
I resent feeling like I have to reassure people when I’m the one who lost someone.
I resent that sometimes it feels safer to lie with a smile than to tell the truth with my face.
Because I’ve learned that showing people how I really feel can leave me feeling worse than I did before.
One comment can do it.
One look.
One attempt to tell me what I should be doing by now.
One reminder of everything people still don’t understand about grief.
I don’t want to come home replaying what someone said to me.
I don’t want to wonder if I’m grieving too much for everyone.
I don’t want to defend why I’m still sad.
I don’t want to feel ashamed because I couldn’t be who everyone wanted me to be that day.
So yes, sometimes I put on the happy face.
Part of it is for you.
But a lot of it is for me.
Because I’m already exhausted from my grief. I don’t have the energy to deal with anyone making it harder.
And that’s what makes this so messed up.
The smile costs me.
Pretending costs me.
Holding it all in costs me.
But sometimes letting you see the truth costs me more.
I shouldn’t have to choose which one is going to hurt me less just to be around other people.
If these words connected with you, you’ll find many more like them in What Remains. It’s a collection of the writings I’ve shared over the years, bringing together reflections on grief, love, loss, and the connections that continue long after someone is gone.
I hope it brings you comfort, understanding, and the reminder that you’re not alone.
If you’d like to read more, you can find the book here
Available now on Amazon