I’m Only 29 & I Have Chronic Pain
“Hi! I’m Isabel and I have chronic pain.”
That might seem like a simple statement, but it’s actually taken me years and a lot of therapy to be able to say – or, more accurately, admit – that. Like anyone who has to come to terms with any kind of condition, disorder, or ‘affliction’ (as they’d say in my Grandma’s day) accepting is the first step but also one of the hardest.
You see, mentally I’m around 19 years old – while physically, I’m around 70 years old. And I’m not either of those ages! I’m quickly approaching 30 but I’m STILL in my twenties, meaning I’m too young and too silly to have such body ailments! Chronic pain! Like, what? Isn’t that for 80 year olds. I’m young! I say “like, what” (much to the disappointment of my father).
And therein lies my original problem: believing chronic pain is only for the elderly. Let me quickly recap.
In hindsight – ah, hindsight – my neck pain probably set in after I had viral meningitis in the summer of ‘17. (Did saying “summer of ‘17” make me sound old?) But, like the incredibly wise 27 year old I was, I promptly ignored the problem and just complained about regular neck pain while doing absolutely nothing to rectify the situation.
In March 2019, I had my first episode. (Yes, that’s right – I left in for 18 months.) So, in March, I woke up at the holiday house we were staying at in Jervis Bay and tried to get up to do a wee – but as I did, I nearly fainted. I quickly realised that if I moved at all, it felt as though I would pass out. Alas, I didn’t panic. Just waited for my boyfriend at the time to wake up, and when he did, then I proceeded to faint. So, a few red flags there.
After a day in the ER, I spent the next few weeks not really being able to move and in constant pain. I worked very hard to ‘fix’ the problem, while also avoiding admitting this was anything more than a short situation I could rectify. All kinds of unhealthy behaviours both physically and mentally. Eventually – after a few months and a few episodes of not being able to move at all (fun!) – I found myself in therapy, admitting that I had chronic pain.
I summarised that into a fun, cute sentence but there wasn’t anything fun or cute about it. Because the truth is, chronic pain is hard. It’s hard even before you admit you even have chronic pain.
So, chronic pain is hard (got that?) – but here’s what I’ve learnt:
It changes you – without you realising
Pain can sneak up on you, and then bam! You’re not acting like yourself and you can’t quite explain why. Suddenly you’re grumpy – and you don’t want to be grumpy! But you can’t help it. It’s so hard not to when you’re hurting.
Or you’re moody.
Or unmotivated.
Or very teary.
Lots of emotions! You can’t control them but the pain is taking over and it’s happened so gradually that you haven’t realised, so suddenly you’re acting a certain way and trying to justify it. (If you’re a female and get PMS, you’ll be able to relate.)
Chronic pain can have a deep impact on you and your mood, before you even really realised what the heck is going on. All you know is that people keep telling you that you’re not yourself and you’re thinking ‘but I’m not trying not to be!’
Very frustrating.
Sometimes it’s unexplainable
You can do everything, and I mean everything right – buy the right pillow, sit ergonomically at all time, take the recommended breaks, meditate, not scream, etc – and an episode will still come on.
And, let me tell you, there is NOTHING more annoying than doing everything right and still having an episode. (For perspective: Janice from Friends laugh isn’t even one eighth as annoying.)
Chronic pain just means sometimes you’re in pain for No. Damn. Reason. And IT’S VERY ANNOYING. (Sorry, got a bit fired up there.)
Often it can’t be fixed
I spent a great deal of time trying to ‘fix’ rather than ‘manage’ my pain. You can send yourself mad trying to fix or cure or [insert other synonyms for ‘fix’ here] chronic pain – or in my case, send yourself into a depressive episode.
Unfortunately some things in life can’t be fixed – they can only be accepted and managed to the best of your ability. (That sounded wise, didn’t it?!)
Pain can be embarrassing
I’m not a big fan of looking weak. I’d prefer to be thought of as “though she be but little, she is fierce”. So I find it quite hard to admit when my neck is really causing me grief – not just to others, but to myself.
Thoughts I often think to convince myself I’m FINE (think Ross from ‘The One Where Ross is Fine’ fine):
“Not now, I don’t have time for this” – healthy, I know.
“It’s not as bad as that bad time” – but considering I can’t do anything without fainting when it’s really bad, not really the ~ best ~ measure to go off.
“It’s only in one spot”
“I can still turn my head a little bit”
Typing that makes me look like a goose, but it’s hard to admit when you’re in pain – particularly when you feel like you’re in pain for no real reason.
Some things that have helped me…
Osteos – I swear by them. I tried just about every medical profession – physio, chiro, massage etc – and nothing helped me ACTUALLY improve like osteo.
Fisiocrem – I currently own 4 tubes. One in each of my favourite handbags, one on my desk and one by my bed. (And trust me, I’ve tried EVERY cream on the market – this is the sh*t.)
Therapy – Seriously. Going to a psychologist who specialises in chronic pain was one of the best things I ever did.
Acupuncture – but only in conjunction with osteo.
So, if you have or think you have chronic pain, please learn from my foolishness. Or, alternatively, join my foolishness club – like all good clubs, it involves cheese and wine.
Remember: chronic pain is hard – but you are fierce.
* I wrote this when I was 29 but was too embarrassed to publish. Now, I’m 30 – still with chronic pain, but with no shame and better at managing it. (Sometimes.)