Hand Pain - I started journaling at night

My mornings began with aching stiffness.

I’d wiggle my fingers before reaching for my phone, testing them. Some days they burned as if I’d been gripping a shovel all night.

I stopped playing sport, stopped going to the gym, stopped cycling. I avoided shaking hands too firmly. Even typing felt dangerous. Doctors told me to rest, brace, modify, accept.

Eventually, someone mentioned Dr. John Sarno. I dismissed it. My pain was clearly structural. I had scans, labels, diagnoses. But late one night, icing my wrists, I read his book. He suggested the pain was real, but driven by tension and repressed emotion.

First, I was offended. Then I was intrigued. The descriptions of perfectionism, people-pleasing, internal pressure? They landed uncomfortably close to home. Still, I resisted. What if I stopped protecting my hands and made things worse?

I decided to test it. Carefully. Instead of stretching obsessively, I went for a short jog. My inner voice screamed. My calves tightened. My hands tingled. I almost turned back.

But the real work, though, wasn’t physical. It was emotional. I started journaling at night, admitting things I didn’t like about myself. Resentment at work, anger I never expressed, fear of disappointing people.

One evening, after a difficult meeting where I’d smiled and said “no problem,” my hands flared within the hour. That was my “aha” moment. The pain wasn’t random.

Gradually I stopped asking, “What’s wrong with my body?” and started asking, “What am I feeling?” When I allowed myself to feel frustrated, competitive, even selfish, the symptoms softened. The fear began to loosen its grip.

I returned to training. Slowly at first. Then boldly. Competing in events I would have considered impossible just a handful of years earlier.

Crossing the finish line, my hands steady on the handlebars, I felt more than physical strength. I felt free.

If you feel trapped in your body, sometimes the way out isn’t fixing yourself, but understanding yourself.

Marcus

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