Let’s Stop Calling It Chronic Pain
Pain has a language
There are words that are heard over time that become the description of your experience. In clinics, through articles online, chosen by strangers and friends alike. We can internalize these terms and it eventually writes our pain story. One word in particular shows up again and again:
Chronic.
You may have been told that you chronic pain—and that word can land heavily. Do you remember what it felt like the first time you heard it?
Chronic is often interpreted as something permanent and some how wrong with your body, something that will never get better. It can quietly (or loudly) reinforce a message: this is your life now. Get used to it.
But what if that word isn’t the right one to define your experience? What if you don’t want to get used to it?
Words Shape Our Experience
Research shows that the language used to describe pain doesn’t just reflect what we feel—it can shape it. People tend to respond more intensely to pain-related words, even more so in those whose bodies are already constantly scanning for danger. These words can heighten our attention to symptoms, influence our emotions, and even affect how much pain we feel.
So when the word “chronic” is repeated—by doctors, family, and even ourselves—it can reinforce a sense of finality. It shuts the door on curiosity. It’s not just describing the pain you feel, it’s narrating your future.
But there’s another word that might serve us better. A word that offers more flexibility and opens the door for curiosity, even if its just a crack.
What Happens When We Say Persistent Instead?
Persistent pain still acknowledges the real and ongoing nature of what you’re feeling—but it holds space for change. It implies endurance, not permanence. It invites flexibility. And for many people I’ve worked with, that shift alone creates a sense of relief.
After thought-provoking discussions with patients, the most common thoughts shared with me are:
“That actually feels less scary.”
“It makes me feel like I can still move forward.”
“Do you mean that this won’t last forever?”
“Persistent feels like something I can work with.”
And that’s exactly the point.
Language Can Be a Tool for Healing
You don’t need to pretend the pain isn’t there. You don’t have to minimize your experience. The goal is not to gaslight your body, but to offer it an avenue to explore.
Lets try an experiment with the words we choose.
Instead of I’ll always be in pain, try This pain has been here for a while, but that doesn’t mean it always will.
Instead of I have chronic pain, try I’m living with persistent pain, and I’m learning how to navigate it.
Instead of I’m broken, try My body is trying to protect me, and I’m figuring out what it needs.
Or my favourite, whatever the thought add for now to the end.
How do those feel in your body? Say them out loud and give it a moment to sink in.
These aren’t just semantics—they’re mindset shifts. And your mindset matters, especially when you’re navigating something as complex and exhausting as ongoing pain.
An Invitation to Reflect
When you talk about your body, what words do you use?
Where did they come from?
How do they make you feel?
Do they reinforce helplessness—or open the door to possibility?
There is no need to rush a change. What if your language could become a gentle companion in your healing journey, rather than a barrier?
You deserve to tell a story that leaves room for movement, growth, and healing.
Even if the pain is present (for now), it doesn’t have to define what’s possible.
Want to go deeper?
If you’re starting to question the way you think and talk about pain, you’re not alone—and you don’t have to navigate it alone, either.
Download my free Mini-Class:
👉 5 Hidden Blocks Keeping You Stuck in Chronic Pain
This short, powerful resource will help you uncover common (and often overlooked) patterns that keep your pain locked in place—and how to start shifting them.
Your pain is real. And so is your incredible ability to heal.