The Invisible Weight of Pain

15 March 2025

People don’t get used to living in pain. They just get used to not talking about it.

At first, you try. You mention it in passing, test the waters. But you quickly learn that most people don’t really want to hear about it, it makes them uncomfortable. Their eyes flicker with pity, awkwardness, or a need to fix something that can’t be fixed.

Honestly… talking about it doesn’t always help anyway. So you start hiding it.

At first, it’s just your words. You downplay, you deflect. But then you realise that pain is still visible: on your face, in the way you move, in the way your breath catches when you get a sharp pain in your torso or when you need to readjust your body due to discomfort. You see how people notice, how they hesitate, how they don’t know what to say. So you learn to mask it in your expressions, in your posture, in the way you carry yourself. Until eventually, you become really good at it. Too good.

That makes me sad, because the better I get at hiding it, the less visible it becomes.

Pain is already isolating. But the act of disguising it, of making sure no one else has to witness it… deepens the loneliness.

This week, on the hardest pain days, I found myself making more of an effort. More time on my hair. More care in my makeup. A well-put-together outfit. Not for me. It was exhausting preparing for the day. But I did it to make others feel more comfortable.

I had people assume I’d been out most weekends, socialising when I’m not at work. My outfits of the day make me appear “well” and as though I’m not suffering. I share highlights and glimmers on my social media because that’s what keeps me going and showing up for the next day with a bright disposition. The truth? I’ve had three social days in three months. Two in Paris (yes, I am very privileged and thankful for that time with my bestie) and one to see my goddaughter at her dance show.

Because when you look “fine,” no one asks. No one shifts uncomfortably. No one stumbles over how to respond.

But there’s something deeply unfair about that. About the way people in pain have to manage not just their suffering, but the emotions of those around them. We soften our realities so others don’t have to bear the weight of them. We shrink the truth so it doesn’t spill over into spaces where it might make someone uneasy.

And yet, some days, I wonder: what if we didn’t? What if we let the pain show? What if we let the world see us as we are, instead of as we think we need to be?

I don’t have the answer. But I know this: pain is real, whether it’s visible or not. And maybe, just maybe, we don’t have to carry it alone.

LBH x