Where Do You Feel Your Pain?
It’s so much more than physical — you know it.
According to the Oxford Dictionary, the number one definition of pain is: “A highly unpleasant physical sensation caused by illness or injury.” For those of us living with chronic pain, that rings true. Whether it began with illness or injury, the pain is constant. Sometimes it screams, sometimes it whispers — but it never leaves.
Since my car accident, I’ve come to understand what relentless really means. But I’ve also learned something else: the pain isn’t just physical.
Some days, the emotional and mental load hurts more than my body ever could. Today is one of those days.
A few days ago, my mom innocently asked what I was going to do with my life, and when I’d be ready to go back to work. A simple question — but it set my mind spinning. I’ve been replaying it over and over. Last night I tossed and turned, my chest pounding, my stomach in knots. This morning I woke up with a headache that felt like a drumbeat.
And the thoughts kept coming: What if I never get better? What if I can’t find my path? What if this is my forever?
The tears came, and I told my husband how scared and confused I feel. Some days, I can see the way forward, filled with hope and purpose. But other days — like today — the future feels like a dark, locked room.
Then comes the guilt. Guilt that my accident changed everything. Guilt that my husband carries extra weight because of me. Guilt that life isn’t what it once was.
It’s exhausting.
I’d love to believe someone could wave a magic wand and make it all go away. I’ve prayed for miracles. I’ve begged for clarity. I’ve longed for a lightning-bolt revelation that will light up my path. But it doesn’t come.
And here’s the thing — in this whole piece, I haven’t once described my physical pain. Because the emotional pain is louder today.
That’s the truth about chronic pain: it doesn’t just live in your body. It seeps into your mind, your emotions, your relationships, your future. Unless you’ve lived it, it’s hard to explain how it twists everything. Each of us has our own battle, even if the diagnosis is the same.
So what do we do?
We feel it. We acknowledge it. We cry, rage, curse, collapse — and then, somehow, we rise again.
But we also need tools. A wellness toolbox that’s uniquely ours.
Maybe that’s a favourite movie, a playlist that always lifts your mood, or a book of quotes that reminds you you’re not alone. It might be meditation, journaling, or soaking in a bath scented with essential oils. It could be nature, creativity, chocolate, gratitude, or simply giving yourself permission to rest.
Your toolbox doesn’t need to be fancy — just full of things that bring you back to yourself.
Living with chronic pain is a relentless journey of highs and lows. Some days, there’s no light at the end of the tunnel. Some days, the body wins. But one thing I’ve learned is this: if my emotional state spirals, my physical pain always follows.
That’s why self-love, self-care, and self-compassion aren’t luxuries. They’re survival.