They say a picture is worth a thousand words—but sometimes, it’s the silence behind the smile that says the most.

I recently sat down with my grandchildren as we flipped through old photo albums. Their curious fingers pointed at one man—always present, always central—but never smiling. “Why does he always look so sad?” they asked, puzzled. “Wasn’t he the one who wanted to get married?”

Yes, he was. And yet, in every photograph, his expression remained frozen in stoicism or masked dissatisfaction. No joy, no softness. Just presence.

It’s a strange thing to reflect on—how someone can want something so badly, even pursue it relentlessly, and yet seem perpetually discontent when they have it. From a psychological perspective, this paradox isn’t uncommon. In fact, it speaks volumes about the complex interplay between unmet emotional needs, identity, and unresolved trauma.

When the Outside Doesn’t Match the Inside

There’s a concept in psychology called cognitive dissonance—the internal conflict that arises when our actions don’t align with our true feelings or beliefs. He may have wanted to get married, or at least thought he did, because that’s what society, family, or tradition told him happiness looked like. But the truth is, wanting the idea of something and having the capacity to embrace it emotionally are two very different things.

If someone carries unresolved emotional pain or childhood trauma, they may struggle to access joy—even when life seemingly hands it to them. They go through the motions, show up for the photos, wear the suit, say the vows… but inside, they remain untouched by the moment.

And children notice. Oh, how they notice. Their innocent questions often slice through the facade and get straight to the heart of things we adults have spent years trying to ignore.

Unhappiness Has a Language Too

Unhappiness doesn’t always shout. Sometimes it sits in the background, lingering quietly in the curve of a mouth that never quite turns up, or in eyes that refuse to meet the camera. It seeps into the atmosphere of family events and casts a shadow that others often feel but can’t name.

And for those of us who were once in that frame, trying to make that person smile, trying to earn a flicker of warmth—there comes a day when we realize: it wasn’t us. It was never about us. It was about their inner world, a place they may never have fully explored, let alone healed.

A Message to the Ones Still Trying

To anyone out there still trying to make someone smile, still tying yourself in emotional knots to bring joy to someone perpetually unhappy—please know this: your love, your presence, and your light are valuable. But you are not responsible for another person’s emotional healing.

Some people will never be happy, not because happiness isn’t available to them, but because they’ve built emotional walls too high to see over. And sometimes, the greatest act of love—for them and for ourselves—is letting go of the illusion that we can change that.

The Grandchildren Get It

Children understand authenticity in a way that puts adults to shame. They don’t ask why someone got married or what their intentions were. They ask why he never smiled. Because they instinctively know that happiness isn’t in the wedding vows or the family portraits—it’s in the quiet, consistent presence of joy. And when it’s missing, they see it.

And so, I answered them honestly.

“Maybe he was never really happy. And that’s not your fault, or mine. It just is.”

Let that truth settle gently in your heart if you need to hear it. Let it free you from guilt, confusion, or the endless need to rewrite the past. We all deserve to be in pictures where the smiles are real.

— Linda C J Turner

Trauma Therapist | Neuroscience & Emotional Intelligence Practitioner | Advocate for Women’s Empowerment