Back Pain - I couldn’t unsee the pattern

I used to wake every morning stiff as stone, my lower back clenched before I even slid my legs off the bed.

I measured every painstaking move. How I bent to brush my teeth, how I reached for a mug. I had folders full of scans, a shelf of creams and braces, and a calendar mapped with appointments.

Each specialist gave me hope, then rules. Don’t sit too long. Don’t twist. Don’t lift. The list grew until I no longer trusted my own body.

When a friend mentioned Dr. Sarno’s approach, I almost laughed. “So you’re saying it’s in my head?”

The notion that repressed emotions can create very real pain in the body stopped me cold. My rational brain rebelled, but another voice whispered: What if this is true?

The next morning, I didn’t stretch or ice. I just sat on the edge of my bed and asked myself what I was really angry about.

The answer came like a flood. Years of swallowed frustration, guilt, and resentment. It wasn’t pleasant. I cried.

Then, strangely, something in my muscles let go. It wasn’t a miracle cure, more like a tiny door cracking open.

I started journaling about my emotions instead of logging pain levels. When my back tightened, I’d say out loud, “I know what this is. I’m safe.”

The more I focused on my feelings instead of my spine, the more movement returned. My family thought I’d lost it when I stopped physio, but I couldn’t unsee the pattern.

My biggest breakthrough came one morning when lifting a laundry basket. I caught myself tensing in fear. But then I smiled, relaxed, and lifted anyway. No pain. That moment felt like the pain no longer owned me.

Today, my back feels strong and alive. Not perfect, but human. The pain taught me how closely my body listens to my mind.

That’s my daily reminder now. To trust what I feel, not what I fear.

Jayne

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