The Presence of Grief While Navigating Chronic Pain
A Companion We Can’t Ignore
One word has arisen each time I’ve held seminars on living well with chronic pain: Grief. It’s a companion that has come to the table for so many of us living this experience. As a follow-up to my last article, I‘ll dive deeper into this emotion and why it’s one we shouldn’t be so tempted to avoid facing.
Grief is a natural response to any significant loss in our lives when someone we’ve loved is taken from us. But how do we experience grief when the loss isn’t a person, but a life, an identity and a future?
In the context of chronic pain, especially when it’s disabling, grief often arrives not as a singular event but a long, unfolding process. I can certainly attest to this in my own journey. I spent a significant amount of time in that space, and it was only by acknowledging it and allowing myself to fully experience it that I was able to finally emerge on the other side.
My Personal Experience: When Everything Changed
I was one of those lucky ones who loved their job. I mean, I really loved it. I felt so fortunate to be in a career that allowed me to spend my days doing something I was so passionate and enthusiastic about, and my work environment was nothing short of exhilarating to me. Daily interactions with my colleagues were a special part of my days. I had achieved recognition and felt valued, something many of us long for and cherish in our careers. I was a single mom and my daughter was flourishing. I was rockin’ life.
Then the pain came, and everything changed.
At first, I thought it was something simple and could be fixed. But as time went on and things only got worse, the situation became much more complex. I kept working while seeking the right medical treatment, yet the pain was making it difficult to move and it was excruciating to get through my days.
Fast forward 2.5 years…
Despite my perseverance and my belief that we’d figure out how to resolve whatever was causing the pain, I finally had to take medical leave, which extended further as my physical situation continued to decline. It was becoming clear that there wouldn’t be any quick fix to return my life to normal.
It's difficult to articulate what this experience is like for those who haven’t lived it themselves. The onset of the pandemic and the ensuing lockdowns is about the closest I can come to comparing it. The shock, uncertainty, fear, worry, isolation, the abrupt change in routine and normalcy, the resistance to what is… it was all there, and more, on top of the pain itself. Like many of us who have experienced a catastrophic loss of one kind or another, all I could perceive was the ending of something precious to me.
As you can imagine, I had a lot of time to think about my situation, lots of time to reassess my days and my priorities, my relationships and my life in general. As time passed, I saw all around that life was going on without me. My classes, some of which I’d created myself, were being taught by someone else, my income was collapsing, and I felt every bit of what was, and appeared to be, one loss after another.
My sense of direction, my sense of purpose
Relationships and social life
Physical function and mobility
The ability to sustain my career and income
The identity I had poured myself into for decades
Being able to care for my home or drive myself to my medical appointments
It was too much… I lost me, or at least the version of me I had known and relied on.
You are not alone if you’ve felt these losses. They are real, and they matter. Naming them is a form of self-compassion.
I tried to push the feelings away. I tried all kinds of ways to distract myself from experiencing the losses all at once. I mean, who has the energy to sit in more discomfort while trying to keep the ship afloat?
Looking back, I see now that I had already begun moving through the classic five stages of grief -- denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance -- often circling back more than once.
Here’s a brief synopsis of the ways I experienced them:
· Denial: This can’t be happening. I’m too young for this. What do you mean there’s nothing more we can do? There has to be something going on that they just haven’t figured out yet.
· Anger: Western medicine has failed me. I feel so dehumanized. I’ve lost my income, self-sufficiency and my independence. There’s no social assistance or support for people in my situation.
· Bargaining: If I just keep “trying harder,” I can make this stop. If I just meditate/pray harder, some higher being will hear me. If I can just figure out what’s wrong with me, it’ll be ok.
· Depression: It’s all over. Everything I knew before is gone. I’m no longer me. I can’t do anything anymore.
· Back to Denial: This can’t be happening.
· Back to Anger: I’ve spent a fortune on this medical journey. I’ve lost my career. I have to rely on others now. This isn’t fair….I worked my tail off, did all the right things…
· Back to Depression: I miss my job and my colleagues, my routine and independence
· I miss being able to move my body freely and feel strong. I miss my former self. I don’t know who I am anymore. It’s all over.
· Acceptance, and Asking Myself New Questions: The pain might just stick around, so what will I do now? How can I find ways to remember who I really am? What can I do? What is within my control? What feels possible today? What am I being called to now?
As much as I tried to avoid the discomfort and emotional pain of grief, it’s exactly what I needed to face and allow space to integrate the totality of what was happening in my life and move forward.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to face this alone. With the help and guidance from those experienced in the bio-psycho-social impact of chronic pain, I realized that the experience of such deep grief in this context was not only normal, but it was also common and even expected. This was such an affirming thing to know, and I immediately felt less alone in the feeling of it. Just as importantly, I no longer felt I needed to hide these feelings from myself. Now, I could allow myself to melt into that grief and make friends with it, rather than spend so much energy trying to resist it.
Recognizing that grief is a perfectly normal and valid response to this experience was a very cathartic moment for me, as it can be for others. Over time, I began to climb out of the hole I’d dug for myself and emerge back into myself and the world.
I don’t know if one is ever “done” grieving, and there are moments when one or more of those still show up for me. But now, I meet them differently, offering them my full attention and my compassion. I don’t run away from the feelings of grieving what was anymore, in part because I see now that I also have a life in the present tense, and a future I’m building for myself.
Once it became clear to me that this wasn’t the end of life, but of a chapter in my story, I could imagine life moving forward, despite the presence of chronic pain. Going through this process of grief was essential, as it turns out, and now I’m grateful for that part of this journey. Yes, my life does look different now, but it’s much easier to adapt and adjust than to imagine oneself disappearing entirely. In many ways, I’m a new version of myself, stronger and more conscious of my resilience and strength. I’m still here, and it’s not over yet.
For those of you who are feeling grief for the loss of your former life, please know this:
There’s nothing wrong with you for feeling this way. Your grief is absolutely valid, absolutely normal, and you are not alone in this experience.
I would invite you to allow its presence to be there alongside you as you process and navigate this new reality. Meeting it with compassion rather than resistance can make all the difference. Grief may walk beside us, but so can courage. The path through pain is not just about endurance, it’s about remembering who we are, even in the face of all we’ve lost.
And please remember, this grief is for a chapter of your life that is leading you to the next, unread one. There’s still more to your story, and so much awaits you still. May you give yourself grace, compassion, and patience on your way there.
With you on this journey,
Julie ❤
chronic pain grief self-compassion five stages of grief self-awareness healing journey