Can we still have dreams even after pain enters our lives?
When you think about your future, does it scare you? Frustrate you? Or just make you feel numb?
One of the hardest things chronic pain takes from us isn’t only the daily struggle. It’s our ability to imagine a future we actually look forward to. So if pain has made your future feel smaller, maybe even hopeless or without purpose, this one is for you.
Over the last several conversations, you might have noticed we haven’t been giving direct steps each time on getting out of pain. There’s a reason for that. Because pain is so often treated as only a physical issue, the non-physical parts of us get forgotten. But we carry difficult emotions, expectations, and lost dreams that became part of our lives because of that physical pain.
During my many years of unmanaged pain, healthcare providers seemed to search only for the physical components and never addressed those other parts. It was only when I started recognizing and working on the non-physical pieces that my life began to change in meaningful ways.
When the Future Stops Being a Question You Ask
I wasn’t asking, “What do I want? What excites me? What does my future ideal self look like? What kind of life do I want to build?”
I was asking, “How bad is my pain going to get? Will I be able to function? What if things get worse?”
Pain pulled my focus into the here and now, which increased my fear in the moment, which actually increased my pain. And focusing only on the here and now doesn’t leave room to dream about a meaningful, purposeful life.
There’s a reason this happens. When the nervous system feels threatened, it naturally narrows its attention toward protection from danger and a desperate desire for safety. The brain focuses on “How do I get through this?” not “What kind of future do I want?”
After a while, we stop imagining any future at all.
The strange thing is that I didn’t realize it was happening to me. I just slowly stopped planning anything, because I’d stopped hoping. Imagining a better future started to feel dangerous. Emotionally, it felt safer not to try.
That makes sense. Hope can feel vulnerable after years of pain. It’s easy to stop envisioning a future when you’re busy protecting yourself from more hurt, both now and later.
But eventually I realized that not allowing myself to have a future was hurting me too.
What Rebuilding a Vision Actually Means
Rediscovering my vision for the future wasn’t pretending my pain didn’t exist. It wasn’t unrealistic positivity, and it definitely wasn’t “everything is going to be amazing now.”
It was allowing myself to ask, “What kind of life do I still want to move toward, even if pain is still part of the picture?”
That wasn’t easy. But it’s a healthy distinction. Because if you start thinking, “If I can’t have my old life back, there’s no use imagining a future,” you’re stuck. Life is more flexible than that, and none of us can predict the future.
Our short-term thinking brain is usually determined to paint a dismal future. But Jim and I have seen enough growth, both in my own recovery and in our clients, to know that a short-term, pain-focused brain is not an accurate predictor of what’s possible.
So we need to tell ourselves some truths about our potential future. In spite of current struggles, even overwhelming ones, meaning can still exist. Joy can still exist. Connection can still exist. Purpose can still exist. Some of these things may look different, but they can still be lived genuinely.
I’ve seen this recently in some younger friends who were diagnosed with MS. They’ve inspired me and many others because they’ve found meaning and purpose despite a disease that can be genuinely debilitating.
A Small Vision Is Still Valuable
Rebuilding a vision doesn’t have to start big. It usually starts small.
It’s not changing the world or expecting everything to be perfect. It’s smaller than that. “I can enjoy some pleasurable moments again.” “I can encourage someone else who’s struggling.” “I can focus on what’s meaningful, like being there to play with my grandchildren.”
People often think a vision has to be dramatic. But “I have more peace,” or “I have more connection with my friends and family,” or “I feel more like myself” are meaningful visions. So is living out your strengths or living out your values. And a small vision can expand into a bigger one later.
One thing that helped me was remembering my values. The things that mattered to me gave me direction before I had the confidence to imagine what a vision could even look like.
So I slowly reconnected with what mattered. I love encouraging people. I found new ways to connect instead of isolating myself. I got creative about how I could play with my grandchildren despite my health issues. I started imagining a small future again. Not a perfect one, but a meaningful one.
That small, growing vision reminded me there was still life ahead of me, even when I couldn’t see it yet. Everybody needs that.
Four Steps to Create a Vision for Your Ideal Self
Jim has trained health coaches on helping clients develop a vision for their future ideal self, so here are the steps he shares with them.
Step one: answer some vision-oriented questions.
Write down your answers to questions like these. What brings you joy? What’s missing that would have the biggest impact on your life if you had it? What value could you not live without? What do you need to let go of to make room for more good?
Step two: remove “no pain” as a requirement.
Look back over your answers and check whether being pain-free is a requirement in any of them. It’s very easy, when you’re in pain, to say your ideal self is simply the version of you without pain.
If any of your answers depend on having no pain, go back and re-answer them with this caveat: if eliminating pain were not a requirement, how would you have answered? That’s challenging, but it’s really valuable.
Step three: write a simple draft statement.
Take your answers and write out a quick, simple draft of what your future ideal self looks like.
Here are a few snippets from mine. On family: my children and grandchildren do not doubt that I love and accept them unconditionally, they know I make time for them and am interested in what interests them, and I take time for my friends through calls, texts, or visits. I’m an encourager and a good listener.
On personal growth: I continue to learn and grow in my health field and in my character traits, focusing especially on my spiritual growth.
On health: I take time to make good choices, remembering to move more, eat healthy, hydrate, pace myself, and be proactive in taking care of my bones and specifically my pelvis.
Notice that none of them say anything about pain, or no pain, or being without pain.
Step four: write it in present tense.
If your draft isn’t in present tense, go back and rewrite it with “I am” statements, even though you’re not there yet. That’s the beauty of a vision. When it’s written in present tense and you read it to yourself or share it with others, your brain doesn’t fully distinguish between what you’re imagining and what’s currently happening. It creates a little drive, a little energy, something to look forward to.
Then Take One Small Step
Here’s what I like most about a vision statement. Once you have it, you can read it and ask, “That’s where I want to be. So what is one small step I can take toward it?”
Just one small step. Not all of them. A profound baby step is enough to get you started, and then you continue slowly over time.
I encourage people to keep their vision statement somewhere they’ll see it regularly, and to keep envisioning: there is a future for me.
Your Future Is Not Automatically Over
If pain has made the future feel scary, helpless, or emotionally difficult to imagine, I understand.
But I want you to hear this. Your story might have changed, but your future is not automatically over. There are still meaningful moments ahead of you. Still meaningful relationships. Still meaningful growth. Still meaningful purpose.
Your vision might begin very slowly, and that’s okay. Very slowly and very gently. But even small hope is still hope.
Sometimes healing begins the moment someone starts imagining possibility again. You don’t need to have your whole future figured out. You just need enough hope to take one small step forward. And that is significant.
