Shabby Chic Boho I don’t think people talk enough about what it feels like to be in real, constant pain and not be taken seriously.
Not just “my back hurts today” kind of pain.
I’m talking about the kind of pain that sits at an 8, 9, and even 10 out of 10 and doesn’t let up. The kind that makes simple things like walking, standing, even going to the bathroom feel like a challenge.
And yet somehow you’re still expected to wait.
Months.
Wait for appointments.
Wait for procedures.
Wait for someone to listen.
I recently had a myelogram and CT performed due to an increase in pain, that showed real issues in my spine. Stenosis, disc bulging, cysts. Actual physical reasons for the pain I’m feeling. But because the wording says things like “mild,” it can feel like everything I’m going through is being quietly minimized. Which doesn’t feel acceptable from a pain clinic
Let me say this for anyone who needs to hear it.
“Mild” on a report does NOT mean mild in your body.
Pain doesn’t read radiology reports.
Nerves don’t care about medical wording.
And your experience is valid even if it doesn’t look dramatic on paper.
What’s been hardest for me isn’t just the pain itself.
It’s the silence.
Calls not returned.
Pain levels not addressed.
Being handed a future appointment and told without words to just hold on until then.
That kind of experience can make you feel invisible.
Like you’re expected to just sink or swim in your own body.
And I want you to know if you’re going through this too, you are not alone.
You are not weak for struggling.
You are not exaggerating your pain.
You are not too much.
You are a person dealing with something incredibly hard.
If you’re reading this and feeling the same way I have been, here’s what I want you to hold onto.
Keep speaking up about your pain, even when it feels like no one is listening.
Document what you’re feeling because your pain matters.
Advocate for yourself, even on the days you’re exhausted.
Do not let anyone make you doubt what you’re experiencing in your own body.
Because you know your body.
You live in it every single day.
And you deserve care.
You deserve answers.
You deserve relief.
Now I want to talk about something else. The days when the pain hits a 10 and it takes everything in you just to keep going.
The kind of days where you feel like you are barely holding on.
The kind of days where you don’t know how you’re going to make it through the next hour, much less the whole day.
If you’re in that place, this is how I get through it.
I take it minute by minute. Not even hour by hour. Just the next small moment.
I use whatever gives even the smallest bit of relief.
Lidocaine patches to numb the edge of the pain.
Heating pads wrapped around my back just to take the pressure down a notch.
Hot baths when I can, letting the warmth ease my body even if only for a little while.
I rest when my body demands it, even when I feel guilty for it.
I wear pajamas. Every day. All day.
I pray. Not perfectly. Not with fancy words. Just honest, desperate prayers asking for strength to get through the next moment.
I reach out to people I trust. Family and friends who understand or at least try to. The ones who will talk to you, distract you, sit with you, or just remind you that you’re not alone in that moment.
Sometimes it’s not about fixing the pain.
Sometimes it’s just about not falling into that dark place where you feel like you can’t keep going.
And if you’re there right now, please hear this.
You are stronger than this moment.
Even if it doesn’t feel like it.
Getting through a high pain day is not about being tough.
It’s about surviving it however you can.
Small things count.
Every minute you make it through counts.
Every time you choose to keep going counts.
I’m still in the middle of my journey. Still waiting. Still hurting. Still trying to be heard.
If you are living with pain like this, please know you are not alone. You are not weak. You are not imagining it. And you are not invisible.
You are someone fighting through something most people cannot see.
And surviving it one moment at a time is still survival.
