She’s Not Smiling — And It’s Breaking Me

By Yaacov Weiss, LCSW

He walked into my office with shoulders slumped, shirt slightly untucked and his eyes downcast. Normally, he came in much more composed. Today, he barely sat down before quietly saying, “I hope you don’t mind, but I might end up crying.”

That was new.

“I don’t know what to do,” he continued hesitantly. “I feel so lost.” And then the tears came.

His wife had recently given birth to their first child. It should have been a joyful time. And in some ways, it was. But he was also carrying a burden— something deeper than just lack of sleep or first-time-parent stress. The weeks after birth had been somewhat manageable — they had temporarily moved in with her parents, where the busy household offered a sense of distraction, structure, and space. But now, they were back in their own apartment, just the two of them and a newborn, and everything had come crashing down for him.

“She’s always nervous about the baby,” he explained. “She wants me near her constantly. I can’t sleep, I can’t learn, I can’t even think straight. I’m overwhelmed.”

But what really hurt him — what brought him to tears — was something else.

“She doesn’t smile anymore,” he said. “I’ll ask her to, just to reassure myself. She tries. But it’s forced. Fake. And that makes me feel worse.”

He described sitting at the table with her and feeling like strangers. No conversation. No spark. Just silence. And underneath it all, a growing fear: Is our marriage okay? Are we okay?

It wasn’t just about the smile or lack thereof. It was about the emotional pressure he felt — the belief that unless she was happy and chirpy, they weren't okay.

What he was experiencing is something I see often — especially with newly married sensitive husbands. The need to know that their wife is happy at all times. If she’s happy, then I can breathe. But if she’s not — well what does that say about me?

So we talked about it. I asked him softly, “Can you control your wife’s mood?”

“Obviously not,” he said shaking his head.

“Right. What about your own mood? Can you control that?”

He hesitated. “I wish, but not really.”

“Right,” I said again. “We can influence how we feel — but we can’t actually control it. How much less can we control someone else?”

We began to explore what he could control: namely his thoughts, his words, and his actions. That’s it. That’s all any of us ever really have. That is where our power and our free will lies. The rest is beyond us. I told him, “You’re quite powerful in these three areas and at the same time powerless over everything else."

"When we embrace this reality, we let go of trying to control the things we cannot control and become focused on what we can. Your power is in using your words and actions to try to be the best husband, father and person you can be. Once you've done that, you've done everything you can or need to do. If her mood is out of your control then by extension, it is also not your responsibility.” He needed to digest that.

We used the rest of the session to discuss ways he might engage her in a warm, gentle way — not to force a smile out of her, but rather for him to be the warm and caring person he truly is. “Invite her to play a game. Ask about something she enjoys. Show interest in her world. But do it simply as an offer to connect, which she has permission to take it or leave it. You're commitment to yourself is to make do with and accept whatever she chooses.

Here’s the truth: The more we try to control the things we cannot, the more elusive they become and the more anxious we become. But the moment we release what’s not ours and embrace what is — that’s when peace begins.

He left the session calmer. Not because his wife suddenly smiled. But because he stopped clinging to things he can't change.

And sometimes, that’s where real change begins.