Soul rings
JUNE 19, 2014
Standing at the mirror, I kept looking at my face. The left side drooped, more than sluggish in response to my smile or attempts to close my eye. Bell’s Palsy had struck over the span of 24 short hours. Although not spelled belle, the irony of the pronunciation was not lost on me, my reflection was anything but “beautiful.” It was the year 2000, and little was known about why or when it struck, but the palsy swept across the left side of my face and took all life with it. The doctors said it may come back or it may not. If full movement and feeling were to come back, it would usually happen within the first few weeks.
One week in was my first week at a new university in a new town. I was on the cusp of everything new, including meeting a whole new group of friends. The thought of not going never really entered my mind. I kept hoping the palsy would retreat and my own face would emerge again. I put my best face forward and strolled into the newness.
Two weeks in I started to get used to the stares. I realized people were trying to figure out what was wrong: had my trip to the dentist gone awry? stroke? botched plastic surgery? something else? My speech was somewhat slurred when pronouncing b’s and p’s, which seemed increasing cruel as I introduced myself, “Hi, I’m Breanne, and I have Bell’s Palsy.” My left eye wouldn’t blink on its own (I used eye drops hourly and taped it shut at night). Eating was challenging since the left side of my mouth couldn’t quite stay shut. All seemed normal when viewing me in profile on the right, but a center view revealed the drooping left and the overcompensating right seemed to pull more than its share.
Three weeks no change.
Four weeks no change.
Five weeks no change.
I avoided mirrors and pictures. I knew what I would see there, and the less I looked the more I could focus on who I was rather than what I looked like. I focused on helping people see me, really see me.
In the first few days of my face breaking, as I stood looking at my face, I came to one of the greatest truths of my life: I discovered my soul. I stood there and realized that I still laughed at the same things and cried at the same things. I still enjoyed all the same things. I was still Breanne, and my soul was whole. My body was broken and hardly resembled what I’d come to think of as myself, but nothing else changed. I felt a clear separation between my soul and my body. My body was merely a case for who I really was. I refused to let that case be the only representation of who I really was. I focused on who I wanted to be. Even if the Bell’s Palsy took up permanent residence in my physical body, I wouldn’t let it dictate to my soul.
Having realized those truths and felt those things, it was still incredibly hard. It is hard to share your soul in a world so focused on what your body looks like. Some people won’t even come close enough to greet your soul because they don’t like how your body is presented, especially when it is something different and foreign. But, I found true friends that year. I met people who saw me for who I was, broken face and all. Without even knowing, I started to cover my smile with my hand. I felt my mouth pulled horribly. A dear friend looked at me one day, really looked at me. He said, “Why do you do that? You don’t need to do that.”
Months later, my face slowly started to come to life again. It was slow, very slow. It never came back fully. Even with therapy, it’s been 14 years, and I still request to stand so the “good side of my face” will be in a picture. When I’m really tired or it’s really cold, the palsy seems more noticeable, but I don’t fight it anymore. We’ve come to a place of contentment and acceptance. I started out wanting it to leave completely, but now I’m glad it subtly stays on. It reminds me that things can change very quickly and obsessing over physical beauty at the expense of soul beauty is not a good investment. It also reminds me to look for the soul of other people. I’m not perfect in this, but I’m working at it.
Yesterday, I went to the Natural History Museum. I saw a large cross-section of a tree with clearly defined rings. Ever since I discovered my soul, I’ve often thought about what a cross-section of my soul would look like. I believe that soul growth comes in the hardest of circumstances and the most trying experiences. For me, that would be the deepest losses I’ve known. My face breaking was one of my first deep losses. I think of it as a lesson in physical loss. I imagine the soul ring for that year was large. Looking back, I now see that discovering my soul, meeting myself for the first time was more important to me than my face ever working again. It changed everything: it introduced me to my soul.