I don’t have resting bitch face as often as I have resting depressed face. RDF rings klaxon alarm bells with my husband. When he sees it, all common sense of what to say to someone gifted with roller coaster serotonin is replaced by a desperate survival instinct.
“Did you take your meds? Don’t let it ruin your day. Chin up. Try having a good attitude. PLEASE GOD DON’T SINK INTO THE UTTER BLACKNESS OF DEATH KNELL DESPAIR I SEE COMING!”
Lovingly.
Being called out on resting depressed face used to bug me big time. I’ve never been one to blithely (outwardly) embrace another person’s judgement of what they think is my ‘apparent’ state of mind. Instead, I would vehemently defend the right for my face to look any way it wanted to look and who are you to judge and here’s this kitchen sink while we’re at it.
(Truth: I would snarl, sink it in, let it stew, build major resentment, and then explode at a totally inappropriate moment and manner years later. But, that’s another story.)
Ideally, there’s a blend. How very reasonable of me. Here’s how it goes: You shut the hell up and get over it while I consider that maybe, just maybe, I’m giving off an unwarranted high level of dark.
Or…
You kindly say with sweet concern, “Is there anything wrong?”
“No. Why?”
“You look like you’re thinking deep and not altogether happy thoughts.”
“Oh? Do I have resting depressed face?”
“Why, yes. Now that YOU mention it.”
And, we point out something humorous or adorable the dog is doing and my face magically transforms. My soul notices a lightening and I embrace it as the person I’d really like to show the world. RDF is gently replaced by Resting Peaceful Face.
Or…
I just say, “Oh? Sorry. Not depressed. Just thinking hard. Look at the dog!”
Neither of us ever knows with certainty which way it will go but, more often than not, I no longer bite your head off and store resentments. Yay mindfulness mediation and Cognitive Behavioral Therapy at work.
One does know with certainty that it’s another entry in the ‘Joys of Living With Me’ category.
Susan Scot Fry is the author of “A Year of Significance” which has morphed into “A Life of Significance: Adventures in Oversharing” when it turned out she wasn’t done living after that first year but had developed a taste for saying too much.
A Year of Significance 