An Imposter in the Disabled Community – My Bell’s Palsy

Bell’s palsy has shaped my life in profound ways. It’s a condition where the facial nerve becomes paralysed, often causing temporary or permanent facial palsy. For many, the condition resolves in weeks or months, but for a small percentage – including me – full recovery never happens.

I’m sharing my story not just to describe the physical experience, but to open up about the complex emotional journey I’ve faced since my diagnosis. I’ve grappled with imposter syndrome, questioned whether my experience “counts” in the disabled community, and struggled with the terminology around disability itself. But I’ve also come to understand something powerful:

The emotional impact matters just as much as the physical.

Living with Bell’s Palsy: My Story

When I first developed Bell’s Palsy, I had no idea what it was. I woke up one morning, and half my face wouldn’t move. My eye wouldn’t blink, my speech felt slightly different, and my smile was completely unrecognisable.

At first, doctors told me it would likely be temporary – most people see full recovery within three to six months. But as the months turned into years, it became clear I was in the 30% who wouldn’t fully recover. My facial palsy persisted, leaving me with permanent asymmetry, muscle tightness, and emotional scars I didn’t expect.

The physical effects were difficult – trying to smile, struggling with eye closure, and feeling the weight of a face that no longer responded the way it once did. But the emotional fallout ran far deeper.

Imposter Syndrome in the Disabled Community

Over time, I became involved in the facial difference and disabled entrepreneur communities. But instead of feeling a sense of belonging, a different struggle emerged – imposter syndrome.

I kept asking myself:

• Do I really belong in these spaces?
• Is my experience of facial palsy “severe enough” to count?
• How can I call myself disabled when others have more visible challenges?

The word disabled has felt uncomfortable for me. My face still functions, just not fully. I felt guilty claiming that identity when so many others in the disabled community faced more visible or physically limiting challenges.

But here’s the truth I’ve come to accept:

Disability is not just about visibility.

Bell’s palsy can manifest in so many ways beyond what people can see. Some people with facial palsy deal with:

• Chronic nerve pain that affects daily life.
• Ongoing muscle spasms or tightness that cause discomfort.
• Partial or complete loss of facial movement, affecting speech and eating.
• Emotional struggles like anxiety, isolation, and depression.

While my facial palsy may be subtle to some, the mental health impact has been significant. My self-perception changed dramatically. Social anxiety crept in, and I often felt disconnected from my own reflection.

Yet despite the internal struggle, no one else in the disabled community was measuring my experience against theirs. I was doing that to myself.

My Trip to London and Meeting Disabled Entrepreneurs

In December 2024, I had the privilege of travelling to London for the launch of the Finance Code for the Lilac Review, an initiative supporting financial inclusion for disabled entrepreneurs.

This event was transformative for me. Meeting other disabled entrepreneurs—some with far more visible differences—should have amplified my imposter syndrome. Instead, it did the opposite.

No one questioned my place in that room. No one made me feel like my experience wasn’t “enough.”

Instead, I realised something powerful: Our stories matter because of how they impact our lives, not how visible they appear.

Conversations with other disabled entrepreneurs reinforced that difference is unique for everyone. Some face mobility challenges, others cognitive differences, and many experience invisible conditions like chronic pain or nerve damage. Yet the emotional challenges – self-doubt, fear of being judged, and the fight for inclusion – were universal.

The Emotional Weight of Bell’s Palsy

The emotional strain of Bell’s palsy has, at times, been heavier than the physical.

I’ve wrestled with:

• Self-Consciousness: Hyper-awareness of my asymmetry in photos or public settings.
• Social Anxiety: Worrying about being misunderstood or appearing “off” when I smile.
• Grief for My Old Self: Mourning the face I once had and the effortless expressions I’ve lost.

Comments like “You look fine!” – though well-meaning – often dismissed my experience. It’s not just about how others see me; it’s about how I’ve had to redefine my identity.

The Power of Sharing My Story

Over time, I’ve learned to stop minimising my own experience. Comparing my journey to others with more visible differences doesn’t make my pain or emotional struggles any less valid.

Healing isn’t a competition.

I’ve found strength in sharing my story and connecting with others. It’s reminded me that:

• Pain is Personal: Struggles can’t be measured or compared.
• Mental Health Counts: The emotional toll of facial palsy is just as valid as the physical.
• You Don’t Have to Justify Your Experience: If it affects your life, it matters.

What Bell’s Palsy Has Taught Me

Living with facial palsy has transformed my outlook in so many ways.

• Comparison Steals Joy: Measuring my struggles against others held me back from healing.
• Self-Acceptance Is Ongoing: Some days I’m confident, others I’m self-conscious—and both are okay.
• Community Heals: Finding my place in the facial difference community has been powerful and validating.

I’ll Share More About My Support Network Soon

Throughout my journey with Bell’s Palsy and Facial Palsy, I’ve received incredible support – from friends, the disabled entrepreneur community, and organisations that advocate for people with facial differences.  I’ll be sharing more about the support I’ve received and the people who’ve helped me along the way in a follow-up post over the next few months. It’s a story that deserves its own space because community has played such a key role in my healing.

My Thoughts Now

Bell’s palsy changed how I see myself – but it also taught me resilience, empathy, and self-acceptance. I’m still working through what it means to identify with disability, but one thing I know for sure:

Your experience matters.

If you’re living with facial palsy, navigating a health condition, or questioning your identity in the disabled community, please know this: You don’t need to justify your struggles.

You belong. And your story deserves to be heard.