Chronic Pain as a Nervous System Story
James sat in my office, shifting in his chair every few minutes. His hand pressed into his lower back, almost absentmindedly. He’d had three MRIs, two rounds of physical therapy, and a cabinet full of prescriptions. The pain wasn’t new, but the story he told about it was.
“It feels like my body is betraying me,” he said.
Then he whispered what hurt even more:
“I don’t trust myself anymore.”
The Pain Beneath the Pain
Here’s what I noticed: when James talked about work deadlines, his breath grew shallow. When he mentioned his father’s anger, his leg bounced like it was trying to escape the room. And when he described the pain itself? His whole body seemed to tighten, bracing like it was preparing for a hit.
That’s the thing about trauma. It doesn’t stay in the past. It lives in the nervous system, shaping tension, breath, posture, even how the brain interprets signals of pain.
Why Trauma Amplifies Pain
For people like James, pain isn’t just a physical sensation. It’s amplified by years of survival mode.
Muscles stay tense, as if the body is still waiting for danger.
The brain scans constantly for threat, interpreting neutral signals as painful.
The stress response kicks in, flooding the body with cortisol, which can intensify inflammation and discomfort.
And underneath it all is a story the body keeps telling: You’re not safe.
That doesn’t mean the pain is imaginary. It means the nervous system is acting like a faulty alarm: blaring at every spark, even when the fire is long gone.
The Weight of Emotional Pain
James eventually admitted the hardest part wasn’t the ache in his back. It was what the pain seemed to confirm: that he was weak, broken, and failing the people who depended on him.
These weren’t new beliefs. They were the echoes of a childhood where mistakes were punished and rest was never allowed. The trauma lived in his body, and the pain became its amplifier.
Relearning Safety, One Moment at a Time
“Let’s try something,” I said.
“Notice what happens in your body when you imagine lying down for ten minutes, no phone, no work.”
His shoulders jumped before he even spoke.
“It feels irresponsible. Like something bad will happen.”
That’s trauma talking. To the nervous system, stillness felt more dangerous than pain.
So we worked in increments—30 seconds of stillness, noticing breath. A two-minute walk without bracing for what might go wrong. Naming the sensations, not as failures, but as information. Slowly, James’s body began to learn that calm could exist without catastrophe.
Healing Isn’t Erasing Pain
Six months later, James sat across from me with tears in his eyes.
“The pain’s still there,” he said, “but it doesn’t own me anymore.”
He was moving differently. Resting without guilt. Choosing connection over constant performance. What shifted wasn’t the diagnosis, it was his relationship to his body.
That’s what trauma therapy can offer: not a quick fix, but a new story. One where your nervous system learns safety again. One where your worth isn’t measured by productivity or perfection. One where pain doesn’t erase your life, it becomes part of a life you’re finally able to live.
✨ At Rooted Therapy, we know chronic pain isn’t just physical. It’s woven with memory, meaning, and survival. You don’t have to fight your body alone. Healing starts with listening to what it’s been trying to say.