I have what the white feminists call resting bitchy face. I look like I am sad or mad when I am not. I do not try to look irked; mostly my thoughts hit thousands of rpms, and my face reflects a try (and a fail) to concentrate on just one thing.
My entire life has been colored by the words, “What’s wrong with you?” As each birthday passed, I started to wonder myself if there WAS in fact something wrong with me until I began to believe that I had a problem. I spent years trying to figure out just what that problem might be.
I attributed it my father being missing, my stepdad being mean, my momma being tough, my husband not loving me enough, my need for attention, my fear of rejection, my high sex drive, my low-count friend’s list, my kids needing more than I could give, my job not being fulfilling…I tested reason after reason after hurtful, soul crushing reason.
And then one day it hit me. What if there is nothing wrong with me? What if the problem was that I had no problem and everyone thought that I should have one because I don’t walk around grinning like the village idiot and talking about nothing like a bored 6 year-old?
I am NOT a jolly soul. I am a pretty somber chick. It comes from being an Aquarius maybe? Or an intellectual badass? Or an introvert? Or a thinker? Or some combination thereof? I cannot say–but what I can say is that me NOT being a bubbly glass of giggles and winks does not automatically mean something is wrong with me.
I mean, I actually enjoy life. Even though I am not talking at the top of my lungs or cackling raucously at every turn, I experience life to the fullest. I take in every situation fully–the good, bad, blissful, painful, and every moment in between. I own countless journals, notebooks, and binders to prove it.
I write everything down, reliving it, reflecting on it, reacting to it, reevaluating myself in it. I enjoy my life despite what everybody wants to say about what I’m doing, and I know I am not alone. There are women out there everywhere who live life like me, gazing into it and taking it in deep within their hearts for current pleasure and future reference. And there is NOTHING wrong with that.
So the next time you see me or someone else you know somewhere “not smiling”, do us a favor: stop assuming there’s a problem. Appreciate the fact that her contemplation benefits you; I mean, how else would she have such incredibly wise advice when you’re melting down all dramatically?