Living on Empty: What It Feels Like to Not Be Okay for So Long

This isn’t one of those cheerful posts with a neat ending. It’s not about silver linings or quick fixes. It’s me admitting something I’ve carried quietly for a long time: I haven’t been okay for a very long time.

On the outside, I keep moving. I show up at work, take care of my kids, manage the house, and smile when I need to. People see the functioning version of me. But deep down, I know I’m running on autopilot. And while I’ve gotten very good at being “fine,” the truth is that fine is not the same as okay.

Carrying Sadness Quietly

My sadness doesn’t look like crying every day or staying in bed all week. It looks like showing up, but feeling heavy. It looks like keeping conversations light because I don’t want to “burden” anyone. It looks like laughing at jokes while silently counting how many times I’ve been disappointed by people I trusted.

After a while, I stopped expecting too much from anyone. I learned to detach, to depend only on myself, to let people go before they had a chance to leave. In some ways, it’s made me strong. In other ways, it’s left me lonely.

Thinking About Therapy

I’ve thought about therapy more times than I can count. But every time, I stop myself because I don’t know how to talk about my feelings without sounding like I’m whining. How do you sit in front of someone and explain years of sadness, mistrust, and survival without feeling like you’re wasting their time?

I know therapy could help. I know having a safe space to unpack this would matter. But the part of me that’s so used to carrying everything alone still whispers, “Don’t bother anyone. Just keep moving.”

Trust Doesn’t Come Easy Anymore

I’ve been let down too many times to trust easily. People I believed in have disappointed me in ways that cut deep. And after a while, I stopped giving second chances. It became easier to detach than to stay and risk being hurt again.

But here’s the thing: protecting yourself this way also means you keep everyone at a distance. You stop letting people in. You live strong on the outside, but a little lonely on the inside.

Why I’m Writing This

I’m writing this here because this blog is the one place where I can be honest without fear of judgment. I don’t have to sugarcoat or make my feelings palatable. I can just say it: I’m tired, I’m sad, and I haven’t been okay for a long time.

Maybe someone reading this feels the same way. Maybe you’re also showing up every day, holding it together, and secretly wondering how long you can keep doing it. If that’s you, I hope this post feels like company.

Tiny Steps Forward

Even though this isn’t a “how to fix it” kind of post, I still believe in small steps. Here’s what I’m reminding myself lately:

• It’s okay to admit you’re not okay.
• Therapy isn’t whining — it’s brave.
• Asking for help doesn’t mean you’re weak.
• Detaching has protected me, but letting the right people in might heal me.

I’m not there yet. But writing this is a step.

Final Thoughts

So here I am, saying it out loud: I haven’t been okay for a very long time. I don’t have all the answers. I don’t even have a plan. But I do know this: keeping it bottled up hasn’t worked, and pretending to be fine hasn’t made me fine.

This post is my way of starting to release some of the weight. It’s not neat or polished. But it’s honest. And maybe, for today, honest is enough.

No one sees me cry!!

MentalHealthJourney #HonestReflections #ItsOkayNotToBeOkay