TheWRITEaddiction.com

I suffer from a chronic condition.  Unlike many chronic conditions, this one is not easy to hide.  People are always asking me, “Are you okay?” Worse than that are the people who whisper to one another.  “What’s wrong with her?” or “Why does she look like that?”

My condition, though I have likely had it all my life, was only recently diagnosed.  It’s clinical name tells you everything you need to know about this deceptive disease,RBF, or Resting Bitch Face.

I first realized my condition a few years ago.  I was asked to participate in a praise dance at church and the choreographer asked me why I looked like that.  I thought my face was a blank canvas.   Near the same time frame, the pastor asked me why I was so angry all the time.

I was confused.  I don’t have any more anger than the average person. I eat pretty well.  My bills are paid. I have a good man and gorgeous kids.  I am black, so maybe society as a whole assigns a certain amount of anger to me based on that alone.

But truthfully, my anger is minimal.  I love to laugh and be silly.  I dance and sing until my hearts content and my kids roll their eyes. I have an immense love for my family. I am always hopeful. My cup overflows.  I’ve got joy in my heart.  But somebody forgot to tell my face.

RBF has its advantages. We are very unlikely to be approached with office gossip.  And no matter how many times the pastor tells you to turn to your neighbors, people avoid looking at us at all costs.

There are other hidden joys, too, like watching other people trying to figure out what we’re thinking.  Or watching the shock and awe in your face, when we let out a jolly chuckle or open our arms wide for a hug.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that joy isn’t always leaping and dancing.  Euphoric tears are not a requirement.  Sometimes joy is the girl sitting in the corner, with her headphones seemingly unaffected by all the jubilation around her.  Sometimes joy is just beyond the surface.   While real joy can never be hidden, it isn’t always apparent either.

Mama Radford