My Facial Expressions Have Never Signed a Confidentiality Agreement

A commitment to show up and write my truth | Day 291 of 365

I don’t like being lied to. Most people don’t. But when someone looks right at me and tells me a story I don’t believe, my facial expressions tend to respond before I’ve decided what to say.

I can choose my words with care. My face has usually started without me.

I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. Staying quiet has never meant my opinion stayed private. Maybe you grew up with a mother who could read your whole afternoon off your face the second you walked through the door. Or maybe you have a friend who leans over mid-conversation and whispers, “Fix your face.” If you’ve ever sat through a meeting feeling wonderfully diplomatic, only to find out later that your eyebrows had already filed their report, you know exactly what I mean.

Our mouths were being polite. Our eyebrows had concerns.

When My Facial Expressions Join the Conversation

I can usually tell when a story isn’t holding together. A detail doesn’t match, and I have a question before the person has finished explaining. Sometimes they start talking faster and adding more, until it feels like they’re trying to convince themselves along with me.

Meanwhile, I’m still back at the part that never got explained.

I know feeling suspicious doesn’t automatically make me right. I’ve misread situations before, and I want to leave room for that. What I can’t do is nod along and act convinced while I’m quietly asking questions. My face has never been willing to go along with that, and honestly, I’ve come to respect it for that.

I don’t even have to say, “I’m having trouble believing this.” Somehow the message gets delivered anyway.

An Honest Answer Gives Us Somewhere to Go

What I value most is someone who can tell me the truth when it’s uncomfortable. “I forgot.” “I made a mistake.” Those words might disappoint me for a minute, but they give us something real to work with.

I can understand a mistake. I’ve made plenty of my own.

The harder thing is sensing that someone expects me to step over what doesn’t make sense so the conversation can stay comfortable. Then I’m half listening to the story and half wondering why I’m being asked to believe it.

You’ve probably been there too. You want to give someone a fair chance to explain, and you keep circling back to the same unanswered question. You aren’t looking for a fight. You’d just love a straight answer.

I’m grateful for the people in my life who give me one. With them, I can admit something awkward, they can admit something awkward back, and nobody has to build a whole house of explanations around it. That kind of honesty feels like a gift every time, and I treasure it far more than any polished version of events.

I Still Get to Choose My Words

An expressive face doesn’t mean every thought behind it has to come out of my mouth. That part is still mine to decide.

I can ask a question instead of making an accusation. If I’m irritated, I can let a moment pass before I respond. I want to be fair to the person in front of me, and I also want to trust what I’m noticing.

Sometimes I find out I was missing a piece of the story. Other times I realize a clear answer isn’t coming, and I decide what to do with that.

I don’t have to win a conversation to make a decision about it.

That’s where my honest face and my judgment start working together. My face notices, and I decide what it means and what happens next.

I wouldn’t trade this face for a more practiced one. The people I love can see when I’m happy to be with them and when something they said made me laugh out loud. I’d hate to get so good at hiding my reactions that I hid those, too.

If your face tends to speak before you do, maybe it’s time to stop apologizing for it. It’s honest. You still get to choose your words, and that choice belongs to you.

I’ll keep choosing mine with care, and I’m grateful I get to.

The eyebrows remain a separate negotiation.

About the Author | Day 291 of 365

I’m a soul-led coach, entrepreneur, mother, and recovering perfectionist, currently navigating healing, uncertainty, temporary chapters, motherhood, work, big transitions, grief, nervous system healing, overstimulation, emotional growth, and the ongoing lesson that life works a whole lot better when we stop trying to carry everything alone. Today that lesson looked like appreciating the people who tell me the truth, and trusting my own judgment when a story doesn’t add up.

Day 291 of 365. Still showing up. Still letting my face tell the truth. 🐧