When Pain Becomes the Path
A Story of Transformation
I don’t adhere to any one faith, and I don’t reject any, either. I’m not here to preach, convert, or explain away suffering. I’ve always been spiritually inclined, though—a seeker of meaning, a student of questions that don’t have clear answers. And I can’t help but see this as the greatest spiritual undertaking of my life.
Chronic pain has changed me more profoundly than any moment of formal spiritual study or practice ever could. It came as an unwanted initiation, pulling me out of the life I knew and into territory for which there was no map. It wasn’t a pilgrimage I chose, but I found myself on the journey, nonetheless.
In the language of mythologist Joseph Campbell, I embarked on my own Hero’s journey. The world I’d known, my identity, my purpose, my rhythms, all began to dissolve with the onset of chronic pain. And what was left? Barely anything I could recognize, only the deep, wrenching question of how do I live now? In order to reckon with the task I’d been handed, I needed to answer the call, wander through the desert, and search for the treasure that would make me whole again.
This is not a journey of triumph over pain or miraculous healing. It is something more subtle, more subterranean: a path of breaking and regenerating, of finding the sacred in endurance, stillness, and surrender. It is the story of learning to walk through fire with open eyes and, somehow, an open and willing heart.
I offer these reflections not as answers, but as company on the road. If you, too, are navigating a life shaped by chronic pain, perhaps you’ll recognize part of your own spiritual journey here.
The Ordinary World
"In myth, the hero begins in the known world. So did I."
I was living a contented life, felt purposeful at work, and I was in excellent physical shape. I had just ended an extremely toxic and verbally abusive relationship and was taking active steps in healing and establishing healthier boundaries. A regular and deep practice of meditation, combined with intellectual enrichment and social connections, nourished my inner world. I was confident in my illusion of a healthy and strong body. My studies of wisdom traditions from around the world gave me solace and strength during a process I thought was taking me to new heights and new adventures. “Seeking” to me at that time was pursuing these practices and studies with a renewed vigor and more profound dedication.
Then the pain came. It endured, and then it worsened. My body decided it was done trying to compensate for years of rearranging itself after previous surgeries, carrying too many books to class, the long hours, and the other stresses and strains of life. Things began to unravel, and I found myself cast upon a road I never envisioned I’d be on.
The Call to Adventure (and the Refusal of the Call)
“The task is assigned and rejected as the hero denies the journey.”
I was scared, bewildered, and confused. I couldn’t believe that this wasn’t something I could resolve on my own with a bit of rest and maybe easing up on the exercising. At first, the doctors couldn’t figure out what was going on, and I was sent to numerous specialists for imaging and consultations. While I had some of the typical signs of normal aging and a few additional minor issues, nothing that could explain the pain showed up on the many scans or other tests. (Now, I know that scar tissue and complex adhesions don’t show up on imaging, but I wasn’t aware of that at the time, and the doctors certainly didn’t mention it.) While we tried various treatments to reduce the pain, nothing touched it. In fact, some of the recommended therapies and exercises made everything worse. I felt like I was in a maze of shock, worry, and fear as my mobility became severely limited, and I could barely make it through my days. I asked over and over, “What was happening to me?” Whatever it was, I didn’t want it. My sole focus was to make it stop so I could get back to my everyday life as I’d known it before. The disruption to my personal and professional life, as well as my routine and all the micro-moments that made up my days, was immense. Meanwhile, I delved even deeper into my meditative practices and spiritual teachings for comfort, but despite my efforts, nothing provided the answers I was looking for. I was in a state of complete physical and spiritual dissonance, separate and detached, and very lost.
Crossing the Threshold
“The Willingness to Face the Guardian at the Gate”
Well over two years in, I finally found a doctor worth her salt. She immediately recognized what was happening and explained it to me in words that were both validating and reassuring. We gave another couple of treatments a try, but ultimately, it became even clearer that this condition wasn’t temporary and wouldn’t respond easily or quickly to intervention. Our goal was no longer about curing it; it was managing it. We would shift our energy toward reducing pain and increasing mobility to the most significant degree possible. I found it hard to hear but also reassuring that it wasn’t in my head; it was real, something that had a name and a physiological origin. It was an odd feeling, this relief of finally comprehending this condition, along with the disbelief that it would be something that would accompany me moving forward, whether I liked it or not.
It took some time to integrate all of this, especially since I was then unable to work and could barely take care of my home or myself. What did this mean exactly? How can this be real? What about my former life, work, and everything else that was waiting for me? There was so much that was unknown, and I couldn’t fathom what my life might look like now. I had been so focused on “getting back” to normal, returning to what was, that I’d never considered having to adapt to this as my new reality. What could a life with chronic pain possibly look like? What lay before me at that moment was the threshold into a place that I now had to enter, dark and scary as it was, if I was to move forward. I had to be willing to face the guardian at the gate, asking, “Will you go in?”
Trials, Allies, and Enemies
“The figure appears and offers riddles that are unsolvable, other than to the hero.”
By then, I’d already encountered many trials on the journey. I’d been churned and spit out by the medical system, disillusioned by their inability to help. I’d been hounded by the department handling my medical leave and was in a constant state of stress and fear because of their demands and the pressure they imposed on me. My finances had collapsed, and I was terrified of losing my home.
The internal tests were no less strenuous: learning to navigate even the most basic and fundamental daily tasks, the grief and loss I felt for my former life, the isolation of being home-bound, and the very real limitations in my physical function. Shame, despair, and the struggle of external as well as internalized ableism became the many-headed creatures I wrestled with.
The classic villains, enemies, and characters portrayed in mythology revealed themselves through these trials, each one taking its turn in creating obstacles meant to hinder the hero's progress on the path. The allies and guides were there too, urging me onward and offering me the magic words and tokens required to keep the enemies at bay. Unexpected guidance came from the quiet things: my breath, the breeze through my garden, and the stillness of the many silent days.
The Abyss / Dark Night of the Soul
“The most precious gems are found at the bottom of the well.”
There were too many unknowns. The new mystery was, “How will I feel today, tomorrow, or in an hour?” “How can I find stillness when all I can feel is the pain?” My mind and my entire body were rejecting all that was happening.
Ultimately, there came a point when resistance became an act of futility, something I came to see as the greatest obstacle of all. There were moments I fell into such a depth of fear and grief that I felt I was at the lowest point of my life. The pain was still acute and relentless, only adding to the weight of what felt like hopelessness. The anchors of my life had slipped away, and I wondered who I was, what my purpose might be now. Both physically and spiritually, I reached my breaking point. Still, a quiet but persistent question lingered within me: What is the gift in this? For some unknown reason, I felt sure there was one. It was the first of many new questions that arose within me over time. What am I being called to now? What part of me is still very much there? These questions became the magic words that I needed to venture forth on the path.
Slowly, I began to see that somewhere, through the veil of shadow I couldn’t quite see through, a new life was waiting for me, despite the pain and despite the rubble of my previous life at my feet. I had long believed that suffering was the very thing from which true transformation and growth arise, as so often depicted in the stories and myths of the ages. I began to wonder if this experience would be the catalyst for profound change that I wouldn’t have undertaken otherwise, and I pondered whether there was potential hidden among the crumbled stones of what was. Was there treasure to be found at the bottom of this well?
What if, as in the myths of ages, that very thing waiting for me to discover it required a token as well, some sacrifice? Upon asking this question of myself, the offering was immediately clear. To grasp the gift I was now actively searching for, I had to let go of everything else first. I offered up my previous sense of self, identity, and the illusion of control to the deep waters, opened myself up to trusting the journey and trusting that if I release my grip on all I’d been so fiercely clinging to, my hand would rest itself on the treasure that had been there all along, just waiting for me to arrive at the sacred place where truth is revealed.
Transformation / Revelation
“Through the power of the raging fire, the steel is transformed into the blade.”
I began to see myself and everything around me in a new light. I realized that all of the things that made me who I am were still very much there, pain or no pain. I saw that what really fell away was only that which is transient in nature, that the essence of myself remained untouched by either the pain or the rupture of my past life. My house was still mine, my interests, passions, and individuality were still there, glowing even brighter now.
I could finally hold an honest appreciation for the strength within me that I never knew I had. I had endured the most perilous part of the journey, and now the rest of it was something I could create and map out myself. I began to feel gratitude for the level of courage and surrender required to undertake this quest. I honored myself for the endurance of each breath taken through the pain and the obstacles, the compassion I felt I could now direct toward myself in ways I never had before. I returned to the study of the wisdom teachings, both ancient and new, with fresh eyes and a more receptive heart. I’m learning to sit with uncertainty and even fear with a gentle but fierce courage and an empowered sense of self.
The Return with the Elixir
“The hero returns with the elixir to share with the waiting world.”
The journey never truly ends, but we return from its pathways with a renewed soul and a revived sense of courage. The task before me now is to continue to integrate what I’ve learned thus far into my daily life, to remember the power of letting go and of moving ever forward on the road before us. What life is calling me to next is much clearer now… I am drawn to become one of those allies and guides for others embarking on a similar journey. In sharing my story, I want to offer this hard-won wisdom to those still standing before the gate, unsure of whether to enter, with my hand extended. I wish to offer my voice and my presence to those who can’t yet see that life does indeed continue, even with chronic pain. Through my writing and coaching, I aim to transform my own pain into purpose so that others can find their way, too.
There is a richness in holding a spiritually open stance in the face of relentless suffering. In answering the call of our Hero’s Journey, we encounter the very same universal spiritual ideas embedded in the great teachings: surrender, mystery, interconnectedness, impermanence, and grace. What is required of us is a willingness to go deep into the wilderness, to face the fear and the doubt, and trust that guidance will be given.
Chronic pain is not just a medical condition—it’s a profound and vast spiritual landscape. If you’re walking through it, know that you’re not alone. As you make your way through your journey, the magic words will come to you. What is required of you will reveal itself, and you may just be ready to offer it freely in exchange for the treasure that awaits. There is a kind of ordinary holiness in navigating everyday tasks with limitations, one worthy of myth and reverence. You can find the sacred in this. Will you step in?
With you on the path,
Julie 💜
chronic pain hero’s journey Joseph Campbell spiritual journey healing journey call to adventure self empowerment self awareness resilience personal growth