I Took My Appearance For Granted. Then My Face Changed — And My Life Transformed Overnight.

My appearance before I experienced nerve damage in my face fit the mold that society deemed acceptable, and I never questioned my worth based on my looks. But when I gained my visible difference at 25, everything changed. Suddenly I was confronted with stares, whispers and the harsh reality that I no longer fit the conventional definition of physical beauty. I became aware of just how much emphasis is placed on looks when I could no longer walk down the street without attracting negative attention or questions on why my mouth is “wonky.”

It became difficult to socialize and meet new people, which I did so effortlessly before. And I could tell my difference made others uncomfortable because they seemed unsure of what to say, so I often felt avoided altogether.

I initially struggled to reconcile my new appearance with my sense of self. I felt the same inside, but was constricted by an unrecognizable cage. I mourned the loss of what I’d looked like before. I realized I had never fully appreciated it, and I grappled with feelings of insecurity and self-doubt.

The unhappiness and anxiety surrounding my visible difference were heightened by being part of the Instagram generation. The pressure to conform to unrealistic beauty standards seen on social media felt overwhelming. I was constantly bombarded by images of flawless faces and flawless lives. Seeing photos of others online — especially people of my age buying houses, traveling, getting engaged and doing things that were unattainable for me at that time — intensified my struggle with confidence and self-acceptance.

I had grown up thinking these things were synonymous with appearance and now deemed them unachievable for me. Each time I scrolled through my feed, I was reminded of the stark contrast between the curated perfection displayed online and my new appearance. I compared myself with others and concluded that being unlike them was a negative thing, without fully appreciating that everyone is on their own journey in life. 

After years of feeling less-than and putting my life on hold, I found a glimmer of hope — a newfound appreciation for the beauty in imperfection. For the first two years following my surgery, I was too focused on learning to walk, write and balance alone again to give full attention to my difference, and part of me was able to hide behind this. That was even truer during the COVID-19 pandemic, when wearing a mask was the norm.

But after a period of victim-blaming, depression and feeling a total loss of control about my looks and the cards I’d been dealt, I realized that how I reacted was completely within my control. I couldn’t change what had happened to me, but I was the only one who had the power to define my worth and choose how my story unfolded.

I knew that the only thing stopping me from fully living a happy life was me and my choices. And the decision to no longer let my looks dictate the life I live was liberating.