Photo by Sara Kurfeß

In Donald Marcus Welch’s two-part dramatic series, The Love I Thought I Knew, readers are taken through the intimate unraveling of a marriage. Its bond is torn apart by the usual suspects of mistrust, emotional misfires, and misunderstood intentions.

Beneath the surface of Karen and Calvin’s troubled relationship lies a deeper truth many can relate to: the emotional masks we wear. Like a good self-help book, Welch’s work invites us to question why we fake joy and what it costs us to pretend everything is okay. The script serves as a call to reflect on prevalent emotional habits that affect many people today.

The Pressure to Be Okay All the Time

For the last 50 years, society has often taught us to keep it together. Older generations have passed on a mindset where showing sadness, fear, or anxiety makes others uncomfortable.

As a result, many today learn to smile, nod, and brush off pain with a “I’m fine.” This habit becomes so routine that it often feels automatic. But why we fake joy isn’t just about avoiding difficult moments.

This has been documented as a psychological survival mechanism. Whether it’s at work, in relationships, or among friends, there’s a shared understanding that vulnerability can be risky.

In Welch’s story, Karen repeatedly puts on a brave face while quietly unraveling inside. Her suspicions, insecurity, and emotional strain are masked by the polished exterior of a professional chef and responsible sister.

Calvin, too, remains composed even as the accusations wear him down. Their dynamic illustrates how emotional concealment suffocates. It starts with undermining communication, and then begins choking the whole relationship. By pretending everything is fine, they delay the real conversations that could have brought clarity or healing.

We’re conditioned to believe that resilience means never breaking down, but that belief can break us just as easily. The truth is, faking joy hardly guarantees invincibility.

At worst, it can even isolate people. The more that is hidden, the less seen we feel. Is it any surprise that it then becomes difficult to reconnect? What good is masking inner struggles when it ends with those closest to us missing the signs of distress?

Why We Fake Joy and Resort to Performative Happiness

Photo by Cristiano Firmani

Many have heard this mantra before: to be successful, you need to be upbeat and not weigh down others with your problems.

Social media, as always, exemplifies this. How many times have you heard of people curate highlight reels while hiding the mess behind the scenes?

That story has been told one too many times, yet its moral remains true. This kind of performative happiness can become exhausting. And yet, we keep doing it because we’ll be killing everyone’s vibe otherwise.

In The Love I Thought I Knew, both Karen and Calvin play out a similar script. Karen suppresses her doubts and suspicions until they explode. Calvin, despite his frustration, keeps playing the role of the loyal husband. Neither wants to be the one who “fails” at marriage. Instead of expressing fears and insecurities openly, they each retreat into a private narrative, believing that strength means silence.

So why we fake joy becomes clearer: we think it’s the price of acceptance. Some of us even get paid more for it! Cultural messages around “being strong” or “keeping it together” tell us that expressing fear or sadness is weakness. It’s no wonder that so many people end up smiling through the pain just to get through another day.

This pressure to be emotionally composed affects different people in different ways. Women get the typical pressures to always be nurturing, submissive, and calm. Men, in turn, get bullied unless they’re stoic and unemotional.

Either way, the outcome is the same: bottled-up emotions, unspoken needs, and unresolved pain.

When Healing Begins with Honesty

Logically, the solution to all these problems is the opposite: emotional honesty.

But while it can be the start of true healing, getting there requires something that society is very uncomfortable with: an admission of weakness.

This does not help those who fear abandonment or have deep-rooted pain from past betrayal. Emotions don’t disappear just because we pretend they don’t exist.

On the other hand, perhaps what is truly needed is the time to take off the mask of fake joy. In the second half of The Love I Thought I Knew, Karen comes to terms with the consequences of suppressing her guilt (for better or worse). Meanwhile, Calvin is in a healthier relationship and able to let go of resentment. He’s no longer forced to put up a front just to prove his worth. Both of them begin to shed the emotional masks they wore for so long.

So, the reasons why we fake joy may be understandable, but it’s not sustainable. There’s a difference between keeping things private and suppressing the truth. If the latter is constantly hidden, the emotional toll it takes will strain the vessel. If we want genuine connections and real healing, then we have to free up the painful truths inside.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is say, “I’m not okay.” And that’s not a weakness. You are opening the door and standing as a pioneer of honesty. Only then is change possible.

This is what will allow us to face cultural expectations and emotions, and ask: who benefits when we pretend to be fine?

Often, it’s the oppressive systems and faceless interests that prefer comfort over truth. But real relationships, like the one Calvin eventually finds, are built on truth instead of maintained lies.

In some places, it might take decades before the societal pressure to be happy in superficial ways is replaced by something healthier. That should not discourage those who know better. There are just as many people who already recognize that it takes strength to be honest and vulnerable. Whether you’re struggling to let go of regrets or learning to reclaim peace, the journey starts when the mask comes off.

Steps for Moving Beyond the Mask

The next time you feel tempted to smile just to make others comfortable, ask yourself—why we fake joy? Is it helping you? If not, then who are you helping? Are they worth the pain, or is it possible to let them know the truth?

Emotional concealment can feel safe, but it’s not freedom. True freedom begins with self-honesty and the courage to share it with people you trust.

If works like The Love I Thought I Knew teaches anything, it’s that prolonged pretensions eventually collapse under the weight of their own lies. It’s a common plot in most broken marriages and mental health breakdowns alike.

Like many emotional walls, masking pain only exhausts us because it demands further maintenance and protection. But no matter how strong those walls feel, they also make it harder to build bridges that will let in those who can help.

We fake joy for acceptance and other benefits. But when these things are no longer enough, then it is time for honesty. Start with your truth. And from there, start living without the mask.

No person should be forced to grin and bear just to see the next day. We all deserve to be understood, heard, and loved as our full selves. That begins the moment you stop faking joy.

Want to learn a little more about how faking joy and other emotional masks lead to harm? There are plenty of good lessons in The Love I Thought I Knew. You can get a copy straight from Amazon.