Chronic pain.
It’s something I’ve often struggled to claim as my own.
But the truth is—it’s part of my reality.
And I know it’s the reality for many of you, too. Chronic conditions, long-term diagnoses, your own unique version of pain or pathology; excuses—valid as they may be—that keep you in creature comforts, in habits that potentially perpetuate your pain.
We don’t talk about it enough. Not because it doesn’t matter, but because we’ve been conditioned to endure in silence. We don’t want to be a burden, and we certainly don’t want to seem like we’re seeking attention. I mean, in so many respects, we appear “able-bodied,” and that’s what most people see. In SO many ways, it’s true.
But here’s the deeper truth I’ve learned: your body is speaking, and it’s speaking—a clear emotional need.
For a long time, I didn’t know how to listen to my own body. I didn’t know how to translate the messages it was sending me. That’s exactly why I found yoga at such a young age. Even then, I knew something wasn’t right. I needed a way to understand and care for my body and mind holistically. Yoga wasn’t just a practice for me—it was a lifeline.
And later, Pilates became part of that journey too. These practices not only helped me manage my pain, but they also made me passionate about movement and teaching people body awareness through movement. I knew I needed a career where my body could thrive, and I refused to succumb to the condition and conditioning. I refused to live in this pain—which is likely why I resisted admitting, even to myself, that “I have chronic pain.”
But as much as yoga and Pilates have helped me, pain is something I navigate. It doesn’t make me less capable, but it does ask me to move differently, to rest more deeply, and to adapt constantly. It’s taught me that healing isn’t a straight line. It’s about building a relationship with my body that requires compassion, patience, and presence.
For those of us living with invisible pain, there’s a silent strength we carry. The world might see us teaching, moving, and thriving, and assume that all is “fine.” But what if we have worked hard and redefined “fine”? What if thriving meant honoring every signal your body gives you, rather than pushing through it?
This pain isn’t something to fix—it’s something to hold, to witness, and to work with.
Your body isn’t betraying you; it’s doing the best it can with what it’s been through. I’ve had to learn this over the years—to navigate, mitigate, and manage my stress to avoid the flare-ups or to break free from living in the conditioning or the condition itself. It’s easy to get trapped in it, especially when the world feels relentless.
It’s so easy to get caught up in the idea that we need to power through, to do more, to be more. But what if your body is sending you a love letter? What if chronic pain is an invitation to stop fighting, stop pushing, and really listen—to stand up for what you need, unapologetically?
You’re not weak for feeling pain. You’re not broken for experiencing it. You’re on a path of learning how to live in partnership with it. Moreover, you’re learning to resolve the conflict emotionally and nurture your body with such attention and care. You are creating a sustainable path to peace, in and through the body.
Let’s be real—it’s not easy. But it’s also not something we have to hide or diminish ourselves for.
This is our chance to reshape the way we see ourselves—where our bodies become allies, not enemies. Chronic pain isn’t something to fight, but something to navigate with resilience, adaptability, and compassion.
It’s not about finding quick fixes or escaping the pain. It’s about learning to live with it—and discovering how it’s guiding you toward something deeper, more meaningful, and truly impactful.