Eight years ago, I woke up to find one side of my face paralysed by Bell’s palsy. I was pregnant at the time, but didn’t know. Soon after I gave birth, I regained about two-thirds mobility, but still suffer with issues of confidence and self-worth. When I was young, I was pretty, and even now I’m attractive and draw male attention, but I’m so self-conscious that I shy away from allowing people (men, really) to get to know me. You don’t notice my condition just by looking at me, but if it’s cold or I’m tired, it’s obvious, and I notice people’s expressions change. On my own, I’m often in tears.

I use alcohol socially to help me relax and won’t go out if it’s somewhere brightly lit. The strange and cruel thing is that people like me; they warm to me and make an effort to get to know me. But I give “back off and leave me alone” signals, so, of course, they do just that. I’m so lonely, and feel ready to love, but I’m aware it won’t happen until I can learn to love and accept myself.

Your letter arrived around New Year’s Eve, one of many concerned with lack of self-worth and low confidence. It’s a perennial problem, made worse at this time of year, and it doesn’t only affect women. I am constantly touched by the vulnerability men show in their letters to me. Perhaps it might help to understand that we all suffer from feelings of inadequacy, no matter how shiny and bright we appear on the outside. In other words, you’re not alone. We are in this together.

I didn’t really understand that myself until, some years ago, I was forced to take part in group therapy. At the time, I was suffering from severe depression. The last thing I wanted was to show other people how scared, sad and vulnerable I felt. Once I had got past my own fear and started to listen to other people, though, I understood how similar our fragilities and concerns are. As I started to connect with others, I began to get better. Since then, I’ve been a great believer in the healing power of the group. Life is about connection. Our common vulnerability unites us in our humanity.

I know you feel you have an obvious reason for a lack of confidence, yet at the same time you instinctively understand there is no real reason. People warm to you. They make it obvious they want to get to know you. Do try to hold on to that thought. Remind yourself of it every morning, like a mantra. I don’t mean to minimise your reality. It is extraordinarily tough to present what we think of as the wrong face to the world. People automatically stare at difference, whether that’s some fractional abnormality of symmetry or an absolute and perfect symmetry, which we call beauty.

Here’s a strange example. I once interviewed Cindy Crawford and spent three days hanging out with her. (This was long before she was famous.) She was simply freakishly beautiful.

So beautiful that everywhere we went, people stared intrusively. They weren’t being intentionally rude, they were simply registering difference. Now you might think you wouldn’t mind being stared at for possessing extraordinary beauty instead of a slight droop to your mouth and eye when you are tired or cold. All I’m trying to say is that it’s not personal, however bitterly you feel it. When people’s expressions change, they are simply registering difference. Once that difference is assimilated, they move on to discover the person behind the face.

It is the person that matters, rather than the face.

Of course, that’s easy enough for me to say, because I don’t confront what you do on a daily basis. So how can I understand? Well, perhaps I can’t, but I can understand those who feel emotionally (rather than physically) different because they suffer from the same condition as I do — chronic, recurrent depression. I attend various groups, where we share our experiences and gain strength from each other. When I share with others, I’m able to see outside of myself and forget my own concerns. I find that by concentrating on other people and trying to put them at ease, I soon forget about my own feelings of inadequacy or depression. When we help others, we also help ourselves.

It’s important, of course, to find a place where we feel safe enough to share our innermost feelings. On that note, have you come across an organisation called Changing Faces? I have no experience of it personally, but hear good reports. It helps the 1m people in this country who have some sort of disfiguring condition by offering counselling services, workshops and events that enable people to meet others with similar experiences. This may not be your thing, but perhaps a meditation group might appeal. There’s an excellent nationwide organisation called Brahma Kumaris, which offers free courses in meditation, self-esteem and positive thinking. My personal experience is that reaching out and connecting helps to put a stop to our fearsome feelings of isolation and loneliness. It may seem counterintuitive, but the best way to love and accept ourselves is by loving and accepting others.

Changing Faces, changingfaces.org.uk; Brahma Kumaris, bkwsu.org.uk; Depression Alliance, depressionalliance.org

If you have a relationship question for Sally, e-mail sally.brampton@sunday-times.co.uk. In case of publication, names will be withheld. We’re sorry, but Sally cannot answer letters personally

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