We all know someone who used to light up a room—who once dreamed big, laughed loudly, and talked about plans with a spark in her eye.
But somewhere along the way, something changed.
Maybe you’ve noticed the smile is still there, but it doesn’t reach the eyes.
The conversations are shorter, the laughter less spontaneous. It’s not that she’s miserable—it’s that she’s surviving.
Let’s get into the signs.
1. She goes through the motions, but nothing excites her anymore
You’ll see her checking off her to-do list: groceries, bills, work, dishes. But ask her what she’s excited about next week, and there’s a pause.
That pause says a lot.
There was a time she looked forward to things—weekends away, a new book, time with friends. Now? It all blends into a loop. She’s not unhappy exactly. But she’s not alive in the way she used to be, either.
2. She avoids talking about her future
I once met a woman at a local art class—sharp, funny, full of wit. Over coffee, I asked what she’d love to do if money and time weren’t an issue. She gave me a small smile and said, “I don’t think about that anymore.”
That answer stuck with me.
When someone stops imagining or even daydreaming about what’s possible, it’s often because they’ve been let down so many times they’ve stopped allowing themselves to hope. That’s not living—it’s enduring.
3. She keeps people at a polite distance
There’s a difference between being private and being emotionally barricaded.
You can still laugh at someone’s joke, ask about their weekend, and chit-chat over coffee—but never actually let them in. I’ve mentioned this before in another post, but emotional withdrawal can look deceptively functional on the outside.
She might still show up for others, but she’s stopped expecting anyone to show up for her. That’s not bitterness—it’s self-protection.
4. Her self-care has turned into maintenance
There was a time when a bubble bath felt indulgent, or a walk in the park felt grounding. Now, it’s just routine. Something to tick off because she knows she should.
If you’ve ever gone through a rough patch yourself, you know how this feels. I remember a period in my early 50s when I was still working full-time.
I’d get home, eat the same dinner every night, walk Lottie (my dog), then collapse into bed. I was functioning. But I wasn’t really present.
That’s the trap: the outer world sees consistency. But the inner world? It’s on autopilot.
5. She hesitates to express her real emotions
Maybe it’s fear of burdening others. Maybe it’s just fatigue.
She might say “I’m fine” even when she isn’t, or brush off concerns with a joke. You ask how she’s doing and she gives a vague answer, changes the subject.
One of the women in our community garden once said to me, “I used to cry in the shower just so my kids wouldn’t see.” That sort of quiet suppression doesn’t mean she’s weak. It means she doesn’t feel safe enough to unravel.
And I’ll never forget something that happened a few years ago. I was out walking Lottie when I ran into a woman I used to work with—sharp as a tack, always dressed to the nines, the type who made everything look easy.
We sat on a bench for a bit, talking about retirement and kids.
At one point, she went quiet, looked down at her hands and said, “I don’t really talk to anyone anymore—not really.”
Then she shrugged and smiled like it was nothing. But I could see the weight behind those words. That kind of silence doesn’t come from nowhere.
6. Her passions have been replaced with obligations
She used to paint. Now she organizes the PTA fundraiser. She loved hiking. Now she sticks to errands and housework.
It’s not that responsibilities are wrong—they’re part of life. But when they take over completely, the things that once brought joy quietly slip out the back door.
The saddest part? She might not even notice it happening.
7. She avoids deep conversations
Not because she’s not capable—but because she doesn’t have the emotional reserves anymore.
When life becomes about survival, even connection can feel like work. It’s easier to talk about the weather than to explore why she hasn’t felt truly happy in years.
I remember once trying to get my neighbor to open up. Her husband had just passed and she was barely eating. I asked if she wanted to talk, and she smiled gently and said, “Maybe another time.” But that time never came.
8. She constantly says “It’s not a big deal”
Her boundaries are blurred. Her needs are silenced. Her disappointments are swept under the rug with practiced ease.
She doesn’t want to cause trouble. She doesn’t want to be seen as needy. So she minimizes everything—from how tired she is to how much she’s carrying.
But just because someone isn’t shouting for help doesn’t mean they don’t need it.
9. She takes pride in being low-maintenance—but it’s become a shield
There’s nothing wrong with being easygoing. But there’s a difference between flexibility and invisibility.
She might say, “I don’t need anything,” or “I’m used to doing things on my own.” And while that sounds like independence, sometimes it’s actually resignation.
A woman who’s truly at peace still welcomes care, even if she doesn’t demand it. But when she actively rejects it? That’s a sign she’s learned to survive without expecting much from others.
10. She can’t remember the last time she laughed freely
Not just a chuckle. I mean a full-body, tear-streaming, gut-hurting kind of laugh.
That kind of laughter isn’t just about humor—it’s about safety, release, connection.
If she hasn’t felt that in a long time, it may be because joy no longer feels accessible to her. And that’s one of the clearest signs she’s no longer seeking happiness—she’s just moving through the days.
Final thoughts
I can’t tell you I have all the answers, but I’ve met a lot of strong, capable women in my time—women who held families together, communities together, sometimes entire households together. And often, those were the women who forgot how to hold themselves.
If someone came to mind while reading this—check in on them.
And if this sounded a little too familiar?
Just know this: surviving isn’t the end of your story. You still have time to come back to yourself.
The world may not always make space for your happiness—but you can.
So here’s my question for you:
What small moment of joy are you willing to reclaim today?
