I’m really not a rude person, but sometimes my Parkinson’s makes me look, shall we say… unapproachable. I feel that I’m happy-go-lucky and always have a smile on my face until I see my reflection. I have a resting bitch face. What the heck is that?
Wikipedia defines it as, “a facial expression, which unintentionally appears as if a person is angry, annoyed, irritated, or contemptuous, particularly when the individual is relaxed, resting or not expressing any emotion.”
Ummm, yeah. That has Parkinson’s written all over it and in fact, should be added to the Parkinson’s Urban Dictionary. Our lack of expressing emotions with our face can convey a distorted message. Like when you’re at a party and someone walks up and says, “What’s wrong?” It’s then that you realize that nothing is wrong… you are just sitting there enjoying the evening. Well, your RBF is saying something completely different… just look at mine…
What makes it worse, is the speech issues that can compliment your resting bitch face. Try giving someone directions or tell a joke with your RBF… potential disaster as I found out yesterday.
I was in my cardio fitness class just killing it. Picture a cross between 80’s Arnold Schwarzenegger, trainer Jillian Michaels and a splash of adorable Amy Adams… that was me. I was on the floor resting from the workout when a woman holding a yoga mat walks into the class and looks confused.
I know that our class was running over our normal hour schedule so I figured, being the nice person I am…. should inform her that our group had not finished yet and that the Yoga class she arrived for would begin shortly. Sounds simple, right?
With the loud hip-hop music beaming off the walls, and my resting bitch face staring at her, I say, “This isn’t your class… we’re not done.” She scrunches her nose and squawks, “What?” I am trying to collect my thoughts to better communicate with this person as if they had just landed the mothership outside the gym. I stutter, “This is the cardio class before Yoga… uh, we’re just finishing up… uh… you ‘re in the wrong class. “
I can better describe what is happening here… why can’t I find my words? Frustrated, the woman turns and walks out the door. Where does she go? Straight down to the front desk to complain that I was being “rude.” Such a tattletale… who does that?
I thought about this situation and I can really see it from both sides. I was trying to relay a message, but to the woman (who snitches… I’m just saying) going off my facial expressions and scrambled words, I might’ve appeared to be rude or irritated. Now, I don’t know if I were to do it all over again, would I try to educate her about Parkinson’s or just let my resting bitch face speak for itself. Please share if you had a time when your RBF was preventing you from conveying emotions or communication.
Ooooh, Amy Adams!
Nobody likes a snitch. But usually when I try to reorganize my communication with someone, the situation worsens. Maybe go for sign language?
What a great idea Dad! Next time…
Sign language is a great idea unless your tremor is acting up. Then all you do is stutter…
Great post! Thanks for taking on this scary topic with humor and compassion.
I’d love to have a neuroscientist correct me if I’m wrong on this, but my understanding is that empathy starts with mimicry. We see someone feeling pain, or joy, or any emotional state, and our first response, deep in the oldest parts of our brain, is to immediately mimic their expressions. Then, a critical chunk of time later, our “higher” brain analyzes the configuration and tone of of our facial muscles and applies an interpretation, e.g., “that person is sad.”
In that context., the RBF facial masking of Parkinson Disease is even more distressing, as it robs us of one of the critical tools we need to feel empathy and connect with other people. I wonder if this might be trainable? Like our quiet voices and contracted postures? I hope so.
Hello Mark,
Makes sense to me! Seems like that is a great area to focus resouces on.
I lost a job because of RBF. I was not yet diagnosed, and people (including my boss) kept commenting that I was unhappy with my job or the work. They wouldn’t believe me when I denied it. I was ultimately let go because “I wasn’t part of the team.” Six months later, I discovered I had PD. When I learned about the lack of affect and the stiff movements, I knew what had happened. I wish I had known earlier.
Oh my gosh Katie,
What a horrrible story! I have had a few times at parties where people had said, “Smile… you look like you’re not having fun.” Which is usually the complete opposite. Thank you for sharing your story with us!
Allison, another prized subject we can all dig into. I find myself consciously smiling much more than I ever did and I always get a smile back. “Act the way you’d like to be and soon you’ll be the way you act”. Even if you don’t feel like it all the time. If I don’t smile I get accused of having been sucker punched with a radiation blast. I also find myself trying to make my brother and sister RSB’ers at the gym laugh as often as I can. (To include occasionally wearing rotten Billy Bob teeth). Hey, get that dopamine rolling with a few laughs. Allison, you couldn’t help looking nice even with a double dose of RBF. Poker face? One of our guys just came back from Vegas with a $22K check. Keep on keeping on.
Hello Wayne,
A smile makes all the difference, even if you have to make a conscience choice to do it! Thanks for reading!
UGH… My hubby is the PWP, but I “have” it right along with him. This PD thing is not for sissies! Just be happy that everyone here is strong enough to handle it..MOST days, anyway lol.. Allison, thank you for sharing your journey 🙂
Toni, it’s so true… Parkinson’s doesn’t just impact one person… it pulls others around you in. Great blog topic! Thanks for the idea!
Hi Perky Parkie,
I can appreciate and fully understand what you are going through.
i work in Customer Service, directly and indirectly with my customers and there are moments throughout my day that I get asked ” Are you ok you look upset?” I always reply, ” no I’m fine.” My colleagues also ask me ” Why so serious Cory?” Again I answer, ” no I’m fine.” or ” I’m just busy and in the zone and this is my “in the zone face.” What makes the RBF thing more difficult for me is that no one at my work knows that I have PD, so in those moments i have to think fast on my feet, which is not always easy.
I find myself at times thinking that people must think of me as a very angry or rude person….but if only knew the real reason…it’s not me, it’s my PD.
I feel the best we all can do with all our similar or different PD symptoms is educate as many people as we can. Eventually the world will fully see and understand the many faces of PD.
As always, another great post, keep them coming as you keep inspiring.
CHEERS to All!
“In the zone face”… that is a perfect way to describe it! Thank you for sharing Cory.
RBF = people who know me in passing sometimes ask what I’m sad about. I cheerfully say it’s Parkinsons – and I’m not sad – with a grin. I go to weekly vocal groups – treble tremors in the summer and Loud crowd the rest of the year. Part of what we do is flexing our faces like Jim Carrey. I does wonders. La La La La Ya Ya Ya 😂
Roger, that’s awesome! Keep singing! 🎤🎼
Yes, I am definitely familiar! I first noticed it by seeing myself in photos. I also feel I don’t have control over my facial muscles.
Yeah all the time. My wife tells me to smile because all I do is look mad all the time. Trying to explain to her is like talking to a brick wall. She doesn’t understand what it is like to be like this. I hate it and PD to know end. It has completely turned my life upside down.
Woody, I agree, sometimes getting those close to us to understand what PD is is the most challenging.
Oh that’s funny! I’ve got the RBF too. My daughter is always telling me I look moody with everyone and I’m abrupt with people. I’ve also thought I was really smiling on photos but when I look at the picture it looks like I’m grimacing…. it’s a nightmare.
Michelle, I know exactly what you mean! I think I’m smiling… but no. RBF.
Another amazing blog post! My father with PD has RBF all the time and I need to remind myself that he might actually not be as miserable as everyone thinks. Thank you for your openness and humor.
RB, Happy my blog can help you understand your Dad a little bit better! Thanks for your comment.
Fantastic post.
Right on Perk!
RBF (or the male equivalent if there needs to be one) is a major ingredient to a recently discovered adjustment I need to make. I need to revamp my entire approach to being funny. This is tough for a 71-year-old.
For my entire adult life, I’ve been what might be called an “interjector.” In discussions, I interrupt with a humorous remark, but do it so quickly that it doesn’t stop the flow of the conversation. Being an “interjector” requires being a tad off the wall, having a rapier wit, great timing, being fast, being loud enough everyone can hear, and projecting a facial expression that makes it clear one is joking.
So, while I still think I’m totally hilarious and may still be witty inside, it is anything but rapier. I may not even have a butter knife wit. My timing is always off–usually behind by several beats–I’m often sloooooow and actually do interrupt, always speak too softly, and my face can no longer be counted to make it clear I’m being a total crackup.
It’s a tough pill to swallow. But then, these days many pills are tough to swallow. Really. I mean actual pills.
Dale, I think you have a great sense of humor and a kind smile. Thank you for your comment.
Sounds familiar Allison. Among many examples I’ve had, this one was a little bit different. It happened in a casino in Vegas. I was playing blackjack and after several hours at the same table I was feeling stiff and sat as I usually do with a blank expression and just staring at the cards being dealt, never moving my head or engaging in chatter. Well I got on a win streak and the pit boss actually pulled me aside and asked me if I was counting cards because I appeared to be concentrating on the cards a little too much. Though I do know how to count cards, I usually don’t, but because my face just appeared to be fixated on the cards they got suspicious when I started winning some serious money, when in actuality I was just too stiff to move. I told them I wasn’t counting and was politely reminded not to anyway. I didn’t bother trying to explain, what are the odds they would have cared? (And no I do not have a gambling problem as a result of PD meds).
Dave, I never thought about being in Vegas and being taken for a card counter. Wow!
My RBF is more likely to get someone to ask Are you feeling ok? You look so tired! So since I have my RBF most days I feel like screaming NO!!! NO I JUST HAVE A PROGRESSIVE DISEASE THAT ONE DAY WILL KILL ME!!!! But I try to think happy thoughts smile. and let them think I’m just tired.I find myself often feeling that when I bring up PD I’m making an excuse or looking for someone to feel sorry for me.So I don’t explain what PD is and how it affects me. Like yes I’m sick. I have PD.
Sometimes it takes more energy to try to educate someone, especially when you’re just trying to get through your day.
This happens all the time when I am at home later in the day when my wife asks me about my day. She says most of the time I look like I am mad at something or someone. She sometimes just walks away and sometimes she will ask what’s wrong?
If I am behind on my meds then my PBA kicks in and then I can’t get rid of my laughing face. I am somewhere in between the two for most of the day when my DBS and meds are correct
Chris, I guess we have a really good poker face, if we can confuse our family.
I love this! I am so happy that you’re going through all of this and that you aren’t afraid to share. I swear, everything that you blog about, I am going through.
Thank you Melonie! Happy to hear you can relate!
Sadly- the same issue keeps me from speaking in social situations — unless it’s a small group and everyone knows my situation. I was pulling a trailer along a highway when I my trailer broke down. It was nothing major, but as I was fixing it a highway patrol officer stopped to help. I’m shuffling around, stuttering and I thought he’s thinking I’ve been drinking. I had to educate him.
That sounds awful, but I’m glad you could educate someone.
That has totally happened to me! Only it was a person asking for directions. Maybe we could call it RPF.
Margie, great idea!
Dear Allison,
I so much look forward to your blogs, and have often wanted to comment. Today I will take the plunge and offer my first. I absolutely loved and identified with this one. I didn’t realize how poker facedI have looked, but it hit home to me today with your blog. When pictures are taken and someone always says “say cheese“ so that a smile will come through, Well I wish you could see my “say cheese“ smile. It is hideous. I think I will just keep the poker face. But what is really hard for me is how my voice comes across especially on the phone When I get a cheery “hi Gail how’s it going? I am so embarrassed where’s my reply. It’s always with a low, monotone, unexpressive, “just fine!” I’m sure they don’t believe I am just fine. And like several others have said, you just can’t tell everybody your PD story to explain why it sounds so expressionless and indifferent. So Thank you for giving us this platform to unload on each other.
Hello Gail,
Thank you for commenting on my blog! Welcome! Your message just opened my eyes to how I sound on the phone. It’s true, with Parkinson’s our voice become just dull and unenthusiastic. When my brother calls, I always am aware that I sound bored or sleepy, but in fact, I am truly interested in what is going on in his world. Thank you for sharing… you made me think!