5 beliefs i had to unlearn while living with chronic pain
Living with chronic pain has changed many things in my life.
What surprised me most wasn't what I learned along the way. It was the many beliefs I had to unlearn.
Looking back, I realize I spent those first years trying to force my old way of thinking into a very different reality. It was only later that I realized how many assumptions I carried about productivity, strength, rest, and what it meant to be "doing well."
Over time, I started questioning some of those beliefs. It didn’t happen all at once, and it rarely happened without a good deal of resistance. These are a few that changed me the most.
1. I had to unlearn the idea that my worth depended on my productivity.
For a long time, I measured a good day by what I accomplished. By how many things I could cross off the list. If I wasn’t moving in many directions at once, I felt lazy and useless.
For nearly three decades as a teacher, my days revolved around lesson plans, grading, meetings, and an endless stream of responsibilities. Productivity wasn't just something I valued. It was woven into my identity.
That worked quite well in my life until it suddenly didn't.
When pain began deciding how much I could do, I felt as though it was also determining how valuable I was. It took me a long time to realize those were two entirely different things.
Some days I still accomplish a few things. Other days, very little. As it turns out, neither changes my worth. I’m still me, still just as relevant and purposeful now as I was in the past. I’m no longer searching for external ways to evaluate myself.
2. I had to unlearn the idea that rest had to be earned.
This one took me by surprise.
Like many of us, I'd absorbed the belief that rest was a reward for finishing everything first.
But chronic pain showed me that it was an impossible bargain to make.
There will always be more to do.
Now, I rest when I need to, before I crash out and before my body screams at me to stop. Rest, frequent breaks, and an intentionally slower pace are built into my days. On purpose. I’ve finally given myself permission to listen to what my body is asking for. It’s meant the difference between protecting my well-being and pushing past my limits.
Learning to rest because my body needed it, rather than because my to-do list finally allowed it, has been one of the hardest and healthiest shifts I've made.
3. I had to unlearn the belief that I owed everyone an explanation.
This one is deeply tied to self-advocacy. I used to spend a great deal of energy trying to help other people understand my needs as well as the reasons behind my decisions.
I used to believe that longer explanations would help other people understand me better. More often than not, they left me even more exhausted -- and if I’m honest, a bit diminished.
Sometimes that was appropriate to the situation, but most of the time, it wasn't necessary at all.
Now, I’m using the “less is more” approach. A simple “I need to go” or “I can make it, but I’ll have to leave early” is plenty.
Over time, I’ve learned that not everyone needs a detailed explanation in order for my needs to be valid or respected.
It turns out that respecting my own limits doesn't require everyone else's full understanding.
4. I had to unlearn the idea that pushing through was always a sign of strength.
For much of my life, perseverance was one of my greatest strengths. I was up at five a.m. responding to emails and reviewing my lesson plans before heading off to class, not stopping with my day until 10 or 11 at night.
In many ways, I’m still what you might call “driven.”
But chronic pain taught me that persistence without discernment can easily become self-neglect.
There came a point when continuing to push wasn't helping me anymore. In reality, it was costing me more than I could afford.
Over the years, I’ve learned that the more courageous choice isn’t always powering through. Often, it’s knowing when to stop. I’m no longer confusing endurance with virtue, or performance with character.
Adapting to what is has proven to be the wiser route. And that takes far more tenacity than pushing through barriers that were set up by someone else.
5. I had to unlearn the belief that healing always means fixing.
This may have been the hardest lesson of all.
For years, I believed that healing meant returning to the person I had been before pain. And if I couldn't, I was somehow failing. Letting others down. Letting myself down. And if I couldn't fix my body, I couldn't fix my life.
That way of thinking affected everything, including how I interpreted my symptoms.
I fell into the cycle of believing that every good day meant I was finally turning a corner, and every difficult one meant I'd somehow lost ground again.
I realize now that I was still chasing my old life.
I spent years trying to become the person I used to be. Eventually, I realized I was completely overlooking the person I was becoming.
From then on, I stopped looking for a way to fix myself. I stopped interpreting what my body was doing day by day.
I finally saw that I wasn't moving backward in either of those ways. I was simply living with a body that has better days and harder ones.
Healing, for me, has become less about getting my old life back and more about learning to live fully within the life I have now. It’s helped me redefine words like “progress” and “improvement,” words that once meant something very different. It’s about settling in and embracing self-discovery on an entirely new level.
Living with chronic pain has changed many things about me.
Some of those changes involved losing something I once treasured. Others invited me to question beliefs I'd carried for decades without realizing they were there.
I still catch myself slipping back into those old beliefs from time to time.
The difference now is that I recognize them much sooner.
They're no longer truths I live by. They're simply reminders of how far I've come.
With you on the journey,
Julie 🍃