They always say you want what you can’t have. But in my case, I am perfectly content with not being able to detect the aromatic chemicals floating around in our atmosphere.
Oftentimes, I share my invisible disability with people around me, and the reactions I get are filled with furrowed brows and quizzical expressions, as if I were telling them that the sky was purple. The introvert in me feels a pang of regret after disclosing a large fraction of my life, but I understand it’s for my own safety.
Most people I know disregard the sense of smell compared to the other senses, claiming they would be able to live life the same way. But those who have done their research on anosmia or other smell disorders would know that not being able to smell can lead to a trip to the hospital for food poisoning or death in the case of a gas leak. Both of those scenarios and many more require fate or a functioning olfactory nerve to make it out unfazed, which is something I hope more people realize.
Now, considering the benefits of being able to smell, you would assume that one would cherish this ability and do whatever they can to get it back; yet I find that it allows me to enjoy the world through a whole new perspective…
I was 12 years old. My mom had cooked biryani, which is a dish made with long-grain Basmati rice and the most delicious, flavorful meat you could imagine. Food, often referred to as the ‘soul of life’, is meant to be enjoyed in its fullest through its taste and texture. But 30 seconds into chewing made me realize that I will no longer be able to live these sentimental moments the same.
My tongue tossed the rice back and forth in my mouth, waiting for something to release its flavor. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t realize that I had lost my sense of smell due to COVID-19 and that what I had lost had a profound connection to taste.
Since I had COVID-19, I was confined to my room for two weeks, which gave me plenty of time to dwell upon my anosmic state. Like most times when I zone out, I pick up a pencil and start sketching random things across a vast white page. Eventually, I had accumulated a lot of these sheets, leading to my first bound sketchbook. There were pictures of deer and parks and stationery and, interestingly enough, a lot of food.
What was once defined by its tangible characteristics had become a source of my inspiration to draw. Now that I think about it, most of what I drew were aromatic things that I couldn’t enjoy through my nose, so I resorted to embracing them visually.
Over time, spending a few hours at my desk drawing what I couldn’t smell became a pure fascination. I now have multiple pieces dedicated to my anosmic condition, some that have even been published and awarded for being of high merit.
So yes, the sense of smell is a crucial ability to have, and we should be grateful that it exists. But if I hadn’t become anosmic, I wonder how long it would have taken for me to find out that creating art was a passion of mine.
The world often measures loss by what is missing, but my missing sense gave me a vision I never knew I lacked. I may never smell the world around me, but through my art, I’ve found a way to make it vivid, meaningful, and entirely my own.
— Afsheen, US
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