What if one of the hardest things chronic pain steals from you isn’t your comfort? Not the ability to move like you used to. Not even the life you thought you’d have. What if it’s your sense of who you are?
If pain has ever made you feel like you’ve lost yourself, like the person you used to be is slipping further and further away, then this one is for you.
When Pain Becomes the Loudest Voice in the Room
Pain gets loud. Really loud. It becomes the first thing you think about when you wake up, the thing you plan around, the thing you worry about, manage, and brace for. After a while, it takes up so much space that it starts to feel like your whole life, and everything else feels insignificant.
That’s exactly what Jim watched happen to me. Over my 21 years of unmanaged chronic pain, it’s not that my strengths, my abilities, my value, or my purpose disappeared. It’s that the pain got so loud it drowned everything else out. It became the loudest voice in the room.
And it was not a pleasant voice. Pain isn’t exactly known for giving pep talks. It’s more like, “Look at everything you can’t do.” It’s a rude voice. Extremely rude.
But here’s what surprised me. Even though pain was loud, it wasn’t telling the whole truth. Pain teaches us things like “you’re weak, you’re broken, you’re limited, you’re a burden, you’re less than you used to be.” And when we hear that long enough, we start believing it. I know I did.
I stopped seeing Debbie. I started seeing a woman in pain. A woman who had to cancel plans, who couldn’t do what she used to, whose world kept shrinking. When that became my identity, it was heartbreaking.
Understandable Doesn’t Mean Accurate
It makes complete sense to feel that way. You’ve lost things. Things have been taken from you. But just because something is understandable, and just because it feels a certain way, does not mean it’s accurate. Pain doesn’t tell the whole story. It leaves out some big pieces.
So pain is part of my life, but it’s not the whole story. And that raises a hard question: if pain isn’t all of me, then what’s still there?
When I started thinking about that, I realized pain had taken a lot, but it hadn’t taken everything. In some ways, it actually revealed strengths I never knew I had. I became more compassionate and more observant of other people who were suffering. I became more understanding. I grew more appreciative of small joys, which turned out to be really important. And I got a little stronger and more resilient. I never would have chosen pain, ever. But I can still acknowledge that those things were growing in me.
Your Strengths Don’t Always Shout
Jim watched those things happen over my 21 years and into my recovery. My strengths, abilities, and value weren’t yelling, “Hey, look what I accomplished.” They were overshadowed, out-yelled by the pain. But they still showed up.
They showed up in getting up on hard days. In trying again after one more disappointment. In choosing hope again, even after discouragement. In caring for others while I was hurting myself, which is an amazing strength in itself.
Here’s the hard part: most people don’t call that strength. They call it just surviving. I felt that way too. But surviving something hard, day after day, is strength. It’s resilience.
In fact, we like to redefine the word surviving. You are not a pain survivor. You are a pain-life thriver.
Hidden Is Not Gone
Maybe your kindness feels hidden. Maybe your joy and confidence feel hidden. Maybe your creativity feels hidden. A lot of the strengths you used to know might feel hidden right now.
But here’s what to remember: hidden is not gone. Hidden means it’s still there. Still waiting. Still part of you. And still worth rediscovering.
Just because something is hidden, sometimes called latent, doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Sometimes those hidden treasures just need to be uncovered. Hidden things still exist. They’re not gone, not buried, not dead. Just overshadowed.
Sometimes I needed Jim to remind me of that before I could believe it. There were seasons where he held hope for me until I could hold it myself. Those reminders can come from many places. From things you’ve written, notes on the wall, or friends and family who remind you who you still are.
Something Simple to Try
Here’s something I’d encourage you to try. Ask yourself: what has survived despite my pain? Not what pain took, but what have you noticed survived?
Do you have wisdom that survived? Some humor? Some faith? Some love? Some resilience? If so, write those things down. I know some of those things have survived in you. Write them down, because what survived is still in you.
And what survived is probably the vast majority of your strengths. In fact, those might be your deepest strengths, the ones still holding on. Because sometimes the most beautiful parts of people are forged in hard places. The people we know who’ve accomplished significant things, in their own lives or in the lives of others, have usually gone through hard times.
You Are More Than What Hurts
So if pain has made you feel lost, I understand. If it’s made you wonder who you even are anymore, I understand that too.
But listen to this. You are more than what hurts. You are more than what’s changed. You are more than what was lost. There are still beautiful parts of you alive in your story. Some might be hidden. But remember, hidden is not gone. Maybe this is the season you begin to discover that for yourself. And that rediscovery may become one of the most healing parts of your journey.
If you’d like a tool to help, the VIA Character Strengths Survey is a great free resource for identifying some of your own character strengths. It’s a simple way to start noticing what’s still very much there.
