By Meredith Hutton, owner of meredithhutton79 Chronic Creative Lifestyle Management, where "Empathy Leads, Purpose Guides, and Resilience Builds. Turn Your Pain Into Purpose, and Your Purpose Into Power."
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Chronic pain brings challenges that extend far beyond the obvious physical suffering. Since March 2008, I haven’t had a single pain-free day. The weight of that reality is overwhelming—so much so that I’ve honestly forgotten what it feels like to live without pain.
For pain warriors like myself, grief becomes a constant companion—as chronic and unrelenting as the physical pain itself. It feels like a revolving door of losses, each one eroding a little more of who I once was. Each subsequent loss compounds the emotional burden, fueling losses and triggering depression, anxiety, and fear for the future. I pressure myself to adapt quickly, hoping to minimize the impact on my loved ones, but the cycle of grief remains relentless.
The accidents that caused my pain weren’t just physically damaging—they were deeply traumatic. On top of having the accidents, for the next 7 or 8 years, I endured on multiple accounts weekly medical tests and procedures that were extremely painful and traumatic and left me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). This is on top of living with the constant pain and trauma of Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) and extremely painful neck and back issues. I still get intense flashbacks and panic attacks from the really horrific medical tests and procedures. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over them they were so bad. Being forced to withstand torturous and painful tests and procedures has done nothing good for me, my physical or my mental health. Most of the tests and procedures didn’t even help my pain and they’ve left me with so much more trauma than there needed to be.
Every sharp flare of pain is a reminder of what I have lost. The trauma compounded, leaving me overwhelmed by the painful and unknown nature of my condition. That was the beginning of my grief cycles—waves of loss, despair, and desperate attempts at acceptance.
And yet, even in the devastation, small steps forward became possible. With each tiny bit of progress, I began to see the possibility of healing—not a cure, but a path toward acceptance. This nascent acceptance, even in its earliest forms, offers profound benefits. It feels like a subtle shift, a quiet exhalation after holding your breath for years. The constant internal battle begins to lessen, replaced by a tentative peace. This initial glimmer of acceptance encourages further actions that lead to deeper self-acceptance. When you stop fighting the reality of your condition, you free up immense emotional and mental energy. This newfound energy can then be directed towards adaptive strategies, self-care, and rediscovering joy in what is possible. The emotional burden starts to lighten, making room for hope and a more constructive approach to managing chronic pain. It's a courageous pivot that allows you to move from dwelling on what's lost to actively building a meaningful life within your current reality. I am experiencing this shift now, and it’s so freeing!
For people living with chronic pain, grief doesn’t follow a neat or predictable pattern. It’s cyclical, overlapping, and deeply personal. Dr. Jennifer Martin, PsyD, adapted Elizabeth Kübler-Ross’s famous 5 stages of grief into The 7 Stages of Grief For Chronic Pain and Illness (2015).
These stages validated what I—and many others—have been feeling: that we aren’t “crazy.” We are grieving. This validation is incredibly powerful and positive. It dismantles the isolating belief that our pain and emotional turmoil are simply "all in our heads," a common and harmful dismissal many with chronic conditions face. Knowing that our experience aligns with a recognized process, like the stages of grief, provides immense relief and a sense of normalcy. It fosters self-compassion, allowing us to release the guilt and shame often associated with not "getting over" our condition. This understanding empowers us to speak more openly about our struggles, seek appropriate support, and begin to heal from the internal invalidation that often accompanies chronic pain. It affirms that our suffering is legitimate, our emotions are valid, and we are not alone in navigating this complex journey.
Embracing this "new self," this "2.0 version," is incredibly important for improving your quality of life. It’s a courageous act of self-redefinition. When you let go of the rigid expectations of your former self and wholeheartedly accept who you are now—with all the changes and limitations—you open doors to new possibilities and peace. This acceptance reduces internal conflict, diminishes feelings of frustration and bitterness, and fosters a sense of inner harmony. It allows you to build a life that is truly sustainable and joyful within your current parameters, rather than constantly striving for an unattainable past. This doesn't mean the pain disappears, but its psychological grip loosens, making space for contentment and growth.
I want to finally feel like myself, my new self, and in time I will get there. I am doing lots of things to work towards the self I want to be. For me, a significant part of this journey towards acceptance has been writing my blog posts. It has proven to be incredibly therapeutic, helping me process some of the complex emotions and challenging experiences I was stuck on for so long. The act of articulating my struggles and insights creates a tangible space for understanding and integration, helping me to make sense of what I've endured. This creative outlet is actively helping me create a space for acceptance in my life, allowing me to acknowledge the losses while simultaneously recognizing the new strengths and perspectives I've gained. It has had such a positive impact on the way I see myself, transforming my perception from one of brokenness to one of resilience, and it continues to shape the way I want to see myself as I move forward.
Before my accident, I was an athlete, a 911 operator, and training to become an RCMP dispatcher. I played hockey, softball, and field hockey, and loved being active with my husband and kids. Two weeks before the accident, I bought new goalie skates—after decades of using the same pair. I wore them only once.
That abrupt shift—from being highly capable to living with constant pain—was devastating. The grief wasn’t just about physical loss, but about losing my identity, independence, and sense of self. All at once. This is a profound and often overlooked aspect of chronic pain and illness. When someone is suddenly unable to perform activities that were central to their life—whether it's a demanding job, a cherished hobby, or even simple daily tasks—they experience a deep sense of bereavement. It's a loss of the future they envisioned, the person they were, and the fundamental ways they interacted with the world. The capable, independent self they knew ceases to exist, or at least feels severely diminished. This can lead to intense grief, not just for the physical abilities themselves, but for the self-esteem, purpose, and social connections that were intertwined with those capabilities. The loss of independence, in particular, can be crushing, as it impacts everything from personal care to financial stability and the ability to pursue personal passions. This ongoing grieving process can be as debilitating as the physical pain itself, as individuals grapple with a fragmented sense of who they are in this new, pain-altered reality.
Many people with chronic illness call this an “infinite loss”—because unlike an acute illness, there is no end point. The losses are ongoing, permanent, and deeply tied to who we are.
Living in this state means facing constant uncertainty. Will tomorrow bring more pain? Will I lose more function? Will I ever reach acceptance? This constant questioning defines what is often called "infinite loss" in the context of chronic pain. Unlike acute losses, which have a defined beginning and end, infinite loss is an ongoing, cumulative process where new physical limitations, symptoms, or capabilities can emerge at any time, triggering renewed cycles of grief. It's a continuous state of losing aspects of one's former self, life, and future aspirations.
Understanding infinite loss is crucial for those with chronic pain because it helps validate the perpetual emotional burden they carry. Recognizing that grief is an ongoing, rather than a one-time, process allows individuals to make necessary emotional, physical, and practical adjustments. It highlights the importance of developing flexible coping strategies and adaptive behaviors, as the landscape of their capabilities can shift without warning. This awareness enables a more compassionate self-approach, understanding that the struggle isn't about failing to "get over" something, but rather continuously navigating a dynamic and challenging reality.
This is often called the “limbo state”—an exhausting place where the future feels paralyzing. The "limbo state" is a direct consequence of infinite loss, characterized by a pervasive sense of being stuck between a past that's gone and a future that feels uncertain and unpredictable. It's a psychological holding pattern where planning becomes difficult, and hope can feel elusive. The constant "what ifs" about worsening pain or further loss of function create a paralyzing fear, making it hard to commit to goals or even envision a stable future. This state of perpetual uncertainty drains mental and emotional resources, often leading to deep fatigue.
For many, myself included, the grief never ends. It only restarts with each new physical limitation. This perpetual cycle makes infinite loss incredibly isolating. Even with a strong support system like I have, the unique and ongoing nature of this grief can be difficult for others to fully comprehend. Friends and family, accustomed to linear grieving processes, may expect the individual to "move on," leading to misunderstandings and a feeling of being alone in their continuous struggle. Furthermore, when many people don’t have access to adequate emotional or medical care, the inherent challenges of infinite loss are amplified. The absence of professional guidance and external validation for this unique form of grief makes the feelings of loneliness, anxiety, and depression even harder to overcome, pushing individuals further into a solitary experience of their pain and loss.
Over the years, I’ve moved through every stage of grief, sometimes multiple times, often overlapping. Denial turned into anger. Anger gave way to depression. Depression led to a loss of self. Then, a re-evaluation of life pushed me forward.
Even the name I gave: “Meredith 2.0” reminds me that I am not broken—I am evolving.
But full blown acceptance? That’s still a work in progress.
Chronic pain isn’t just about the body. It reshaped my mind, too. When chronic pain is coupled with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and cognitive challenges, the impact on a person's day-to-day activities is profound and pervasive. The brain, constantly on high alert due to trauma, struggles to filter and process information efficiently. This manifests as symptoms like noise and competing sounds overwhelming me, leading to confusion and withdrawal from social situations. Too much sensory input – a busy street, a loud conversation, even multiple people talking at once – can trigger a heightened stress response, making the individual feel overloaded and dysregulated. To cope, withdrawal becomes a protective mechanism, sacrificing social engagement for mental quiet.
My brain processes differently now. Tasks that once felt simple can leave me exhausted and anxious. And forget about multitasking, that sends my brain into a busy frenzy. This is a common experience when trauma impacts cognitive function. The brain's executive functions, such as attention, memory, and processing speed, are often impaired. What was once automatic now requires immense effort, leading to mental fatigue, errors, and significant anxiety about performance. Multitasking, which demands rapid shifting of attention and processing multiple streams of information, becomes virtually impossible without triggering a cascade of distress and mental overload. This continuous struggle with basic daily activities can lead to immense frustration and a feeling of incompetence.
This has forced me into an identity crisis, moving from a successful career and active lifestyle to someone learning entirely new limits. For me and my family, this loss has been devastating. When a person's core capabilities and defining roles are stripped away overnight by chronic pain and trauma, it shatters their sense of self. The abrupt shift from a highly capable and engaged individual to someone with significant limitations can lead to a profound identity crisis. The person wonders, "Who am I now that I can't do what defined me?" This loss of self is deeply disorienting and can feel like mourning a past version of oneself.
Unresolved grief also intensifies depression and anxiety. I see this in my own journey. I’ve had to adapt to cognitive changes, emotional trauma, and PTSD alongside physical pain. The interplay between unresolved grief, chronic pain, PTSD, and cognitive challenges creates a vicious cycle. The continuous losses associated with chronic conditions fuel persistent grief, which in turn exacerbates mental health conditions like depression and anxiety. When grief is not fully processed or acknowledged, it becomes a chronic emotional burden that drains mental resources, perpetuates feelings of hopelessness, and reinforces the neurological pathways associated with fear and sadness, making recovery from anxiety and depression far more challenging. This complex interaction underscores the critical need for comprehensive support that addresses not just the physical pain, but also the deep emotional and cognitive repercussions of living with trauma and chronic illness.
Despite the grief, pain, and trauma, I’ve discovered strategies that help:
Support systems are lifelines. Not everyone has them, which makes raising awareness about mental health and chronic illness even more important. For pain warriors, support systems truly are lifelines because chronic pain is an invisible, often isolating, and profoundly complex condition. Without understanding and assistance from others, the burden can become unbearable, leading to deeper depression, anxiety, and despair. A strong support system—be it family, friends, a partner, or professional help—provides emotional validation, practical assistance with daily tasks, advocacy in medical settings, and a consistent source of encouragement. They offer a sense of stability and connection in a life often characterized by uncertainty and loss, literally helping pain warriors stay afloat amidst the turbulent waters of their condition.
Living with chronic pain means making peace with the reality that some losses are permanent. I can resist and focus on what’s gone—or I can adapt and move forward with what remains. Acceptance, in this context, is a lifelong process precisely because chronic pain often involves "infinite loss"—new symptoms, limitations, or flare-ups can arise at any time, re-triggering the grief cycle. Each new loss, however small, requires a renewed effort to acknowledge, process, and integrate into one's understanding of self and life. Therefore, true acceptance isn't a single destination, but rather a continuous practice of acknowledging current realities, grieving new losses as they occur, and making ongoing adjustments.
To accept these permanent losses and still adapt and move forward with your plans and goals requires a conscious and deliberate shift in perspective. It means recognizing that while certain doors have closed, others may open, or new paths can be forged. This involves:
Acceptance doesn’t mean giving up. This is a crucial distinction. It doesn't imply resignation or a surrender to a life of misery. Instead, it signifies a powerful act of agency: choosing to engage with your reality and direct your energy towards constructing a meaningful life, rather than expending it in futile resistance against what cannot be changed. It means acknowledging grief, honoring the pain, and still choosing to create meaning in life. This proactive stance is the antithesis of giving up; it is the ultimate act of resilience.
This journey is not linear, nor is it easy. But with patience, self-compassion, and connection, it is possible to move toward peace. Having patience with yourself is vital because transformation takes time. There will be good days and bad days, steps forward and occasional setbacks. Rushing the process or expecting instantaneous acceptance only leads to further frustration. Self-compassion is equally important, as it involves treating yourself with the same kindness and understanding you would offer a dear friend facing similar challenges. It means recognizing that you are doing your best within difficult circumstances, rather than engaging in self-blame or harsh self-criticism. This compassionate stance allows you to navigate the emotional complexities of chronic pain with greater grace and resilience, fostering a more peaceful internal environment despite external challenges.
Living with chronic pain and illness is undeniably a daily act of resilience. It's a continuous demonstration of inner fortitude, adapting to an ever-shifting landscape of physical limitations and emotional burdens. The grief is profoundly real, stemming from the myriad losses that chronic pain inflicts—loss of identity, independence, future dreams, and physical capabilities. The trauma is equally real, not just from the initial onset but from the ongoing, often intrusive, experience of constant pain and medical procedures. Yet, amidst this profound reality, so too is the strength we discover along the way. This strength isn't found in overcoming the pain entirely, but in the courage to face it, to adapt, and to redefine what a fulfilling life looks like.
If you’re struggling, know that you are not alone. This journey, while deeply personal, is shared by countless others. By validating grief—by acknowledging that what you are feeling is legitimate and understandable—we begin to dismantle the isolating shame and self-blame that often accompany chronic conditions. Seeking support, whether from compassionate loved ones, specialized therapists, or online communities, provides essential lifelines in navigating this complex terrain. And by sharing our stories, we build a powerful sense of community and foster hope. Each narrative shared chips away at the invisibility of chronic pain, creating a space for understanding, empathy, and mutual empowerment.
We may not choose chronic pain, but we can choose how to live with it. And in that choice lies the path toward healing. This fundamental truth empowers us to move beyond victimhood and into agency. Healing, in this context, may not mean a cure for the pain itself, but a profound restoration of well-being, purpose, and peace within the parameters of our current reality. It is the choice to embrace acceptance, cultivate resilience, and continue building a life that holds meaning and joy, even in the shadow of chronic suffering. What choices will you make today to honor your journey and step further onto your path toward healing?
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