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We’ll experience pain throughout our life; in most cases, it’s a short-lived unpleasant experience, such as a headache or discomfort following an injury or operation. Yet, for some folks, pain becomes an unwelcome companion hanging around like an icky smell.
Pain that persists affects around 15 million people in the UK, that’s more than a third of our population; worryingly, the number rises yearly. Health professionals label this as ongoing, persistent, or chronic pain. At its very essence, this is more than a physical experience; it’s all-consuming; physical pain, emotional upset, fatiguing, depressing and sometimes scary.
For too many, pain is the thief of joy and results in suffering. Understandably, those affected sometimes fear even the simplest activities of daily living because of the potential for (more) pain meaning. Loneliness and loss of hope are often the co-companions of these folks because, eventually, their world shrinks, resulting in more profound emotional hurt; it’s a vicious cycle.
One of the most heartbreaking aspects is that it’s frequently not taken seriously. Too often, people in pain are told, “it’s all in your head,” “you look fine”, and “don’t be a hostage to pain.” Or worse still, “you’re laughing, so it can’t be that bad” If you are wondering who says these things, everyone; friends, partners, colleagues, family and even well-meaning healthcare practitioners. For the record, if you are in pain, it is a genuine lived experience 100% of the time; your experience needs validation and respect.
A multidisciplinary biopsychosocial approach is needed to support those with persistent pain. Ongoing pain is rarely a purely medical or biological problem; it’s a complex continuum which considers biological, psychological, and social factors, aka a
biopsychosocial.
By the way, this isn’t my opinion; it’s current neuroscience. For the record, I’m not saying bypass your doctor; your need to rule out the rare and sinister stuff, check for tissue damage, system dysfunction, inflammation, nutritional deficiencies, or get pain medications. However, while there is no quick fix for chronic pain in most cases, a whole-person or biopsychosocial approach can manage, reduce, and support recovery without risky interventions. I spend much of my time combating the psychological aspect of pain that results in so much self and societal stigma.
Although principally, an osteopath manual or hands-on therapy is not at the heart of my approach to ongoing pain support. A flexible and adaptable clinical approach is essential to success for any person with ongoing pain because multiple factors, not just biomechanics, are involved. When people have been in pain for a long time, their bodies get used to hurting, predicting, or expecting it. Just like an artist can learn to draw figures with ease and flow, it becomes muscle memory; we can unintentionally do the same with pain. I support you in recognising when this is happening so you can implement more beneficial strategies to address and move beyond your pain; it’s an empowering place to discover.
My more psychologically informed approach treats the person, not just the condition. I may still utilise hands-on osteopathic techniques alongside movement rehabilitation, breathwork and lifestyle advice. When people come to me, it’s not just because of my clinical training and patient mileage; typically, I’ve shared my journey or what some call ‘my lived experience’ somewhere. I didn’t intend to specialise in pain support; it happened organically, driven by my long, miserable experience of seeking answers to the pain that lingered.
Generally, those who see me have been to doctors, visited hospital specialists, been on a cocktail of medications, had procedures and surgeries, or are on a long waiting list for them. Or have run out of options and have nowhere else to go. The truth is, I get many people who have lost hope and have been called heart-sink by other healthcare professionals, and while this might sound odd, I welcome these folks because, in most cases, I can help.
Living with pain can be incredibly lonely, but know that you’re not alone. Take the discomfort out of your recovery and get in touch if you think I can help, either in person in Dulwich or remotely worldwide.
