The Secret Battle Behind My Smile

Have you ever felt like you were putting on the performance of a lifetime, except the only audience member was yourself? For years, I was the star of my own one-woman show: Ebony Has It All Together. From the outside, I was the definition of polished—successful career, a lively social life, and that Texan charm my grandma always said could smooth over the sharpest edges. But behind the confident smiles and perfectly curated Instagram posts was a secret battle I didn’t dare admit, not even to those closest to me: loneliness.

I know, it sounds dramatic—cue the tiny violins and the opening of a Nicholas Sparks adaptation—but loneliness has a sneaky way of creeping in no matter how accomplished you are or how many people text you “wyd” on a Saturday night. My battle with loneliness was a quiet storm, one I fought behind closed doors. And like many battles, it wasn’t won with one sweeping victory but through quiet decisions, awkward moments, and small changes that added up to something big.

The Mask We All Wear (And Why It’s Exhausting)

Growing up in a family that championed excellence, I learned early on to keep my vulnerabilities under lock and key. Vulnerabilities, my dad would say, were like wearing white shoes before Memorial Day—it just wasn’t done. So, I excelled. Academics? Check. Career? Double-check. Relationships? Oh, you mean my ability to list off every character flaw of my potential partners and call it “standards”? Triple-check.

But what I didn’t realize was that wearing the “I’m fine” mask came with a price. It left no space to say, “Actually, I’m not fine, and I think binge-watching Insecure at 2 a.m. for the third night in a row wasn’t Exhibit A of my thriving social life.” It was a juggling act that left no time for self-reflection because, let’s face it, who has time for that when you have dinner parties to host and deadlines to hit?

My breaking point came during a particularly stormy night in Dallas. I was standing in my kitchen in silk pajamas (because, of course, I was going to be lonely stylishly), absently eating crackers over the sink. It was the kind of cinematic moment that screamed, “This is where you figure stuff out, girl.” And it hit me—the life I had built looked great from the outside, but it felt paper-thin on the inside. Fake it 'til you make it? Honey, I was all fake and nowhere close to making it.

Step One: Admitting There’s a Problem (To Yourself)

The first—and hardest—step was admitting that something was off. I never wanted to acknowledge my loneliness because I thought it meant I was doing something wrong. After all, how could I, Ebony Lancaster—degree-holding, career-smashing, brunch-hosting Ebony—not have it all together?

Here's the truth: loneliness doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care about your title at work or how much you tip the valet. For me, a huge part of that loneliness was wrapped up in an unwillingness to be vulnerable with myself. So, I started small. One quiet night, I made a list of all the feelings I’d been avoiding—resentment over old friendships that faded, fear of being “too much” in romantic relationships, and the ever-present worry of not meeting the expectations I’d set for myself. I called it my “get-real list,” and while it wasn’t pretty, it was necessary.

Step Two: Choosing Connection Over Curation

The world tells us that the key to connection is to be interesting: dress better, talk smarter, and share the right photos with the best lighting. But what I learned is that being interested is far more powerful than being interesting.

Instead of curating the perfect Ebony Experience™ for new relationships, I shifted my focus outward. I started making authentic efforts to connect with people—really connect. That meant being the first to text when I thought of someone instead of playing the cool waiting game, saying “yes” to gatherings even when I'd rather stay inside with a Toni Morrison book and a scented candle, and guzzling the vulnerability juice when needed.

I’ll never forget one particular dinner with a friend who asked how I was doing. Normally, I’d respond with the greatest hits playlist of my recent accomplishments. Instead, I took a breath and said, “Honestly? I feel a little lonely these days.” What followed was an honest conversation about how we both felt disconnected at times, and it turned what could’ve been a polite meal into a moment of real connection. Vulnerability, my friends, is a wild, scary ride—but the view is worth it.

Step Three: Cultivating Joy in the Unlikely Places

You know those Pinterest-perfect listicles about “finding happiness”? Yeah, this isn’t that kind of section. Cultivating joy didn’t mean skydiving or running a feel-good marathon while Beyoncé’s “Run the World” pulsed in my ears. It meant taking a closer look at my day-to-day life and carving out tiny moments that made me, well, feel more like me.

For me, that looked like dusting off my old vinyl collection and letting Aretha’s voice fill my house as I danced (badly) in my living room. It meant finally joining a book club full of unapologetically opinionated women who made me laugh until my jaw hurt. And, yes, it involved talking to my therapist who gently guided me toward practices that could pull me out of my overthinking spiral and into the present moment.

I also revisited an old hobby I’d forgotten about in the hustle of life: journaling. The act of putting pen to paper wasn’t just cathartic; it reminded me of a more tender version of myself—the dreamer who once wrote poems about cherry blossoms in her Howard dorm room and believed words could change the world. That spark grew into something brighter with time.

Step Four: Letting Yourself Be Seen

Of all the steps I took, this was the most transformative. I had to let people see the messy, uncertain parts of me instead of just the polished highlights. Slowly, I unlearned the idea that success and relationships are about being perfect—or pretending to be. Instead, I learned that you don’t have to be everyone’s cup of tea; you just have to find the ones who love you, flaws and all.

I also started treasure-hunting for small, everyday connections. Whether it was a quick laugh with my barista or a long chat with old college friends, I let people into my world more freely. And, no surprise, they welcomed me just as freely in return.

Embracing the New Rhythm

Today, my life still looks polished from the outside—let’s not pretend I don’t love hosting a perfectly themed wine night—but the difference is on the inside. I no longer feel like I’m staging a performance. My smile isn’t a shield; it’s a reflection of the peace I’ve found.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned through this battle, it’s this: Loneliness isn’t failure. It’s simply a signal that something needs to shift. And once you let go of the facade, you open yourself up to the kind of connection that fills the quiet spaces in your life with warmth and love. It’s not easy, and some days you’ll still struggle, but trust me—you’re worth the effort.

Because, as Aretha herself said, “What you want, baby, I got it.” And what you deserve are connections that feel like home.