You Can Look Okay and Still Be Hurting
September is Pain Awareness Month.
I could fill this post with statistics, definitions, and explanations of chronic pain.
But there’s something much simpler I wish more people understood:
You can look okay and still be hurting.
I know because I live it.
There have been plenty of days when I’ve gotten dressed, done my hair, gone to work, laughed with someone, answered messages, handled responsibilities, or posted something online while being in pain.
If you saw me during one of those moments, you might never know.
And that’s one of the strange things about living with pain people can’t see.
What you see isn’t always the whole story
Someone with chronic pain doesn’t necessarily look sick.
We don’t walk around with a little number floating above our heads telling everyone our pain level.
There isn’t a warning light that comes on when we’re reaching our limit.
Sometimes what you see is someone laughing.
What you don’t see is that sitting in that chair is starting to hurt.
You see someone at work.
You don’t see how much energy it took to get there.
You see someone out enjoying themselves.
You don’t see the calculations that happened beforehand:
How much walking will there be?
Can I sit down?
How long will we be there?
What have I already done today?
What do I have to do tomorrow?
And one of the biggest questions:
What is this going to cost me later?
Yes, sometimes I do it anyway
This is another part of chronic pain that can be difficult to explain.
Sometimes I know something might make me hurt more.
And I choose to do it anyway.
Not because my pain suddenly disappeared.
Not because I was exaggerating the last time I said I couldn’t do something.
And definitely not because I’m magically better.
Sometimes the experience is worth the possibility of hurting afterward.
I want the memory.
I want the time with someone I love.
I want to participate.
I want to laugh.
I want to go somewhere.
I want to feel normal for a little while.
Chronic pain already takes enough from life.
I don’t want it making every decision for me.
“I can do it” and “it won’t hurt me” are not the same thing
This distinction is HUGE.
There are things I technically can do.
I can walk farther.
I can stand longer.
I can clean the house.
I can go somewhere after work.
I can push myself through something.
The question isn’t always whether my body is physically capable of doing it.
Sometimes the real question is:
What happens afterward?
Maybe I need more rest.
Maybe my pain increases.
Maybe tomorrow becomes harder.
Maybe I have to cancel something else.
That’s the part people don’t always see.
They saw me do the thing.
They didn’t see the bill my body sent afterward.
A good day doesn’t erase the hard ones
This is another misconception I want to talk about during Pain Awareness Month.
If you see someone with chronic pain having a good day, please let them have it.
Don’t use it as evidence against their bad days.
Don’t assume they’re suddenly cured.
Don’t decide they couldn’t possibly have been hurting because they’re laughing today.
And please don’t make them feel guilty for enjoying themselves.
A good day is a good day.
That’s it.
For someone who lives with unpredictable pain, those moments can be incredibly precious.
Believe people even when you can’t see what they’re carrying.
I don’t expect everyone around me to completely understand chronic pain.
Unless you’ve lived it, some parts are probably impossible to fully understand.
But understanding everything isn’t required to show compassion.
Sometimes all someone needs is to be believed.
If they say they’re hurting, believe them.
If they need to sit down, let them sit.
If plans need to change, try not to make them feel guilty.
If they have a good day, celebrate it with them.
And if they tell you they’re exhausted from carrying something you can’t see, remember:
Invisible doesn’t mean imaginary.
This Pain Awareness Month, I want to talk about the parts we don’t see
Throughout September, I want to use this little corner of Radiant Rise to talk more openly about chronic pain.
Not just the medical side.
The everyday side.
The weird side.
The frustrating side.
The choices.
The guilt.
The good days.
The bad days.
The things we learn to work around.
And yes, the moments when we decide to do something knowing perfectly well we might pay for it later.
Because pain may be part of my life.
But it isn’t the only part.
Pain gets a vote.
I just don’t want it making every decision for me.
— Michelle
Radiant Rise
0 comments