The Truth Behind "Bitchy Resting Face"

 So, the first time we went to Ireland, we chose to spend our first night in Limerick. We had bought vouchers to use at bed and breakfasts throughout Ireland, and the package stipulated that you had to have your first night booked. Limerick isn't too far out of the way from the airport in Shannon, and with its tie to author Frank McCourt, we felt we couldn't go wrong.

It was our first trip overseas, and we'd been advised to just keep going after we got there because it would help us get through the jet lag. We spent most of the day wandering around like aimless zombies, just trying to get our bearings. We went to a mall, and we ended up at a McDonald's. Not the quintessential first day in Ireland either one of us had imagined.

We should have remembered that McCourt's poignant memoir about his childhood was wrought with despair, and devastating greyness so profound that it could splay your heart wide open. I don't want to say that Limerick was that bad, but the shades of green weren't exactly obvious.

We were so exhausted that by the end of the afternoon, we nearly begged our hostess at the B&B to let us check in early so we could sleep for a few hours. We were not in our right minds.

Sometimes, when you're not in your right mind, you react poorly or even bizarrely to situations that seem benign.

After we were seated at the Unicorn Restaurant for dinner, the waiter stepped in to take our drink orders. I requested iced tea.

Tea

That's right. Iced tea. Even in America, where iced tea could make sense, it's rarely my first choice of beverage. Twelve years later, I am still clueless as to why it would be my first choice in a country where tea comes in a pot and is served with milk.

It was a total disconnect. But there are lots of ways in which the things we do, say or seem like communicate things that don't make sense together.

I recently heard of a video circulating around about women with "bitchy resting face." It's a comical short produced by the fine folks at "Funny or Die."

I remember at a very early age, my step-father used to look at me with consternation and annoyance and command me to smile, or wipe that dirty look off my face. Ninety percent of the time, I was oblivious that I had any sort of look on my face that was communicating anything to anyone. So, I suppose I suffer from "bitchy resting face."

I admit that until recently, I didn't really care about it. When someone had mentioned it to me, I hadn't watched the video, and I only remarked that maybe the people who have this look about them really are in a place of struggle and turmoil, and they just can't communicate it.

In recent years, many companies have started to teach leaders about the warm-fuzzy, and sometimes, prickly and sticky ways of interpreting what their direct reports are communicating without saying a word. And many times, the things they learn are spot on. We all say so many things without ever opening our mouths. It's amazing sometimes how whole conversations can be had in complete silence.

Sometimes, even the strongest people cave in on themselves.

A dear friend of mine is being let go from her job, at least in part, because she doesn't seem happy. She doesn't smile when at rest. I'm sure there are other things that aren't working, but I think it's difficult for anyone who works really, really hard and has been committed passionately to the company for which they work to accept that one of the skill sets they lack is a look of serenity and contentment.

I don't smile at rest. Most of the time, I don't realize that failing to smile at rest communicates anything. And up until the last year, it didn't mean anything at all. I have always spent a great deal of time wandering around in my head. I write, so mentally, I'm writing most of the time. But now, it does mean something.  My little family has hit upon some really hard times in the last year or so, and right now, when I walk around in my brain, there are a lot of things that are really hard to see staring back at me.

I'm not writing about this because I'm offended by the "bitchy resting face" video. I'm writing about it to say what I can't say everyday to the people who see me unable to smile while I am at rest. At any given moment, I might be processing an unimaginable set of things that threaten to drive me to tears, or even self-destruction. It might just take "one more thing" to provide the final push. It may be that everyone around me is lucky that I am maintaining "bitchy resting face," because when I fail, it becomes "incoherent, snot-sobbing, wailing" face. I have a small modicum of pride, and while I frequently can't get past "bitchy resting face" to smile, I at least try to take a stab at avoiding the more embarrassing faces that often are just below the surface.

Not surprising that it eventually slid off.

I am not the first person to suffer trials. I won't be the last. I also remind myself, sardonically, that things could be worse--then I cringe, just in case. And though I don't believe it right now, I know that someday, all that I see when I wander around in this brain that I don't want to, will be a distant memory. I don't see myself going all Virginia Woolf, and loading up my overcoat pockets with stones before I walk into a river, but I understand better than I'd like the comfort of a stone in my hand right now.

So, I find myself locking arms symbolically and in solidarity with anyone who does not smile at rest. I know that for most of us, it means nothing. It's not symbolic of some deep-seated inner dismay. But for a small handful of us, it may be the best we can do at the moment. It may be the way we manage to maintain what little dignity we feel in ourselves the right to ask. 

That first night in Limerick, I probably didn't want iced tea at all. At the end of the long trip to get to that table, I just couldn't communicate that I was completely spent, and the Coca-Cola actually on the menu would probably suit me better.

Black and White--Sarah McLachlan

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