I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I share on my blog and social media, and how important I believe it is to talk about chronic pain. I believe in this for a variety of positive and good-for-you reasons. I’ve wanted to share my story for 15+ years, and I am so glad I found the self confidence to start blogging, as it’s been such a rewarding journey. I’ve connected with some really amazing people because of my blog and in 2026, I want to take what I share on here, one step further, and start talking about the harder things we experience with our chronic pain, that we are often too embarrassed or ashamed to talk about with anyone. 

Feeling that vulnerability some days seems like too much. Part of it is that you worry about how what you are sharing will impact the other person, as some of it can be traumatic. Then there’s also a real fear of being judged or the other person not believing you or being dismissive. But there’s also a third aspect to this. Some of us are carrying the weight of some really depressing, dark, and super low thoughts. Thoughts that are distressing. Thoughts that could unsettle the other person. Thoughts we are embarrassed and ashamed to have. 

For me, and many others, a large part of not talking about the harder to talk about things, is that some of these thoughts we have, are really, really, hard to talk about, and some of us are not ready to talk about them with anyone. But, there’s another aspect that keeps us silent, and that is that we might not be ready to acknowledge that we are even having these thoughts, or the scary reality of these thoughts being the truth. Being our truth. We worry that if these thoughts are true, even saying them just to ourselves, makes them our reality. Not saying them outloud is our way of ignoring the problem. Acknowledging these distressing and upsetting thoughts make them seem so much bigger and so much scarier, and real. It makes them real, and that can be an unsettling place to find yourself in, especially if you are not emotionally ready to go there or are just completely burned out from the massive overwhelm that often accompanies chronic pain. 

So in this blog post, I talk about something that impacts me a lot, and that has been on my mind a lot more lately, as the holidays are near and the new year is less than 2 weeks away. 

There’s things I want to accomplish, and goals I want to reach. I want to focus on my business, my blog, and my products, as well as keep working on my personal growth. I want to have meaningful moments with my loved ones and I want to get those projects on my to do list started and slowly check tasks and projects off my list. 

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"You are so strong."

If you live with chronic pain, you have probably heard this phrase or something similar to it, a lot. It is almost always meant as a kindness, a sort of compliment to your resilience. And it is that. It definitely is that. But for many Pain Warriors like myself, this compliment also carries a heavy, silent weight for us that most people are unaware exists.

Being strong is often the only option we have. Or at least it feels like it. It’s the expectation either by ourselves or by others, of constant strength—the pressure to minimize suffering to make others comfortable, so we fit in, or to keep pushing when the body screams to stop—creates a profound and specific type of loneliness.

This post explores the isolation of the "strong," the reality of chronic pain loneliness, and how we can redefine what strength actually looks like. By doing this we can break down the barriers we often put up and lead a more rewarding the less lonely life. 

The Unique Loneliness of Chronic Pain

Loneliness is usually defined as a lack of company, but for those with chronic pain, it is often a lack of understanding. You can be in a room full of people who love you, yet feel completely isolated because your internal reality—the burning, the aching, the stabbing, the exhaustion—is invisible to them. 

Why is this experience so isolating?

1. The Invisibility Gap

When you have a cast on your leg, people hold doors for you. When your pain is internal (migraines, fibromyalgia, arthritis, nerve damage), you look "fine." This forces you to constantly narrate your experience to be believed, which is exhausting. Eventually, many stop trying to explain. When this happens, it can create a wall of silence between them and the world. This was one of the reasons why I wanted to share my story, my experience, and my real world education through lived experience in all things chronic pain. I want to help educate and support not only Pain Warriors, but their friends and loved ones, and on a larger scale, society, about chronic pain by trying to lessen the stigma felt and assumptions made about people living with chronic pain or illness. 

2. The "Flake" Factor and Social Atrophy

Chronic pain is unpredictable. You might make plans on a good day, only to wake up in a flare-up on the day of the event. Canceling plans repeatedly brings guilt. Over time, invitations stop coming. Friends don't want to "bother" you, or they assume you’ll say no. The social circle shrinks, not out of malice, but out of a drift caused by inconsistency. This is something that I work really hard at, because I lost the majority of my friends after my fall, and it left a mark. I've had to find and build new friendships and I also threw myself into the friendships that I still had and strengthened those bonds. Well I’m super grateful, for all of those experiences, and to lessen the sting of not being able to do certain social things, I often ask people in my social network to do calmer things with me on a more one on one basis, that are more my speed, because I genuinely want to see all these great people I have in my life and I care about what’s going on in their lives, despite what my pain is doing, and I want to show that. I want to be there for them as they’ve been there for me. 

3. The Grief of the Former Self

There is a loneliness that comes from missing yourself. You may mourn the version of you that could hike all day, stay out late, or work without crashing. This internal grief is hard to share with others who still see you as the same person. This one is so very real to me, because I mourn the life I never got a chance to have. I grieve the old me, who played sports, volunteered and had an active lifestyle. I worked too, as a 911 operator, a job which I loved, and still miss to this day. I miss what could have been and what never can be. 

The Trap of Being "Strong"

Society glorifies a specific version of strength: The Stoic. The person who suffers in silence, who pushes through, who never complains. This is where many of our pressure points come from, trying to keep it together and do it all so we don't become a burden, which is something so many of us already feel we are. 

When you mask your pain to appear "strong," you are essentially performing. You are protecting the people around you from the discomfort of your reality, and in some ways protecting yourself from fear of being judged, fear of not being believed or the person believes you are exaggerating your symptoms. Sometimes it’s just easier to appear strong. But this comes with a price:

• The Cost: When you hide your pain, you deny people the chance to comfort you. You inadvertently build a fortress where no one can get in. 
• The Paradox: The stronger you appear, the less help you are offered. People assume, "Oh, they've got this," while you are crumbling inside. 

Redefining Strength: What it Really Looks Like

It is time to dismantle the idea that strength equals silence. If you are living with chronic pain, your strength does not look like an action movie hero. It looks softer, but it is much more durable.

True Strength Is:

• Vulnerability: It takes immense courage to look a friend in the eye and say, "I am not okay today. I am hurting, and I am scared."
• Pacing: Strength is not pushing through until you collapse. Strength is having the discipline to stop before you crash. It is saying "no" to the second activity of the day so you can function tomorrow.
• Asking for Help: Strength is realizing that independence is not a prerequisite for worthiness. Letting someone carry your groceries or cook you dinner is an act of trust.
• Existing: Sometimes, strength is simply taking the next breath. It is waking up to a body that hurts and choosing to get out of bed—or choosing to stay in bed and rest because that is what your body needs.

Strategies to Lessen the Impact of Loneliness

If you are feeling the weight of this isolation, here are some strategies to help bridge the gap.

1. Change the Script

When someone asks "How are you?", the reflex is to say "Fine." Try changing the script to honesty without despair.

• Try saying: "I’m having a high-pain day, so I’m taking it slow, but I’m happy to hear your voice."
• Why it works: It validates your reality while keeping the door open for connection.

2. Seek "Micro-Connections"

Socializing doesn't have to mean a three-hour dinner party. When energy is low, look for low-stakes connections.

• Send a voice note instead of a text (it feels more personal).
• Watch a movie with a friend over FaceTime (you can be in pajamas/bed).
• Engage in online communities (Twitter/X, Reddit, Facebook groups) where #Spoonies congregate. There is immense relief in speaking to people who speak your language without translation.

3. Educate Your Inner Circle

Choose 2 or 3 safe people and explain the "Spoon Theory" to them. Let them know that when you cancel, it isn't a rejection of them; it's a physiological necessity. Give them a way to support you that isn't "fixing" it.

• Tell them: "I don't need you to take the pain away. I just need you to sit with me while I endure it."

4. Cultivate Solitude vs. Loneliness

Loneliness is painful; solitude can be restorative. Fill your resting space with things that bring you joy—audiobooks, gentle music, soft textures. Turning your recovery time into a ritual of self-care rather than a "time-out" can shift the mental narrative.

A Final Note to the Warrior

You do not have to carry the world on your back just because you have learned how to endure heavy things. That burden is a choice you can begin to gently set down. For too long, we have mistaken silence for strength, creating a life lived behind a heavy, solitary mask. But that mask is exhausting, and it is time to put it down.

It is not just okay to be fragile; it is necessary. To acknowledge your limits is not a failure of character, but a triumph of self-awareness. Your willingness to be honest about your pain, to yourself and to the trusted people in your inner circle, is perhaps the most profound act of strength you will ever perform. It is a durable, soft strength that allows for rest, connection, and true healing.

Remember this, always: You are not alone in this fight. The silence you feel on the hard days is a shared experience. There is a whole community of Pain Warriors who speak your language, understand the unseen battle you wage daily, and are waiting to connect with you. May your path forward be defined not by the pain you endure, but by the courage you find in your honesty, and the genuine, rewarding connections you create by letting your true self, mask-free, be seen.

You don't have to manage your chronic pain journey alone. Join our community of pain warriors by signing up for my newsletter on the home page or below any blog post on my website:

https://meredithhutton79.com/meredithhutton79

As a welcome gift, I'll send you two complimentary pain-tracking pages and a 200-page household planner to help ease your mental load.

For more resources, browse my collection of chronic pain-themed trackers, planners, and journals at my shop: 

https://meredithhutton79.com/shop 

and my Chronic Pain Worksheets — To Learn And Level Up e-booklet packaged with worksheets I create and sell in bundles in my Gumroad shop: 

https://meredithhutton79.gumroad.com