Many of you reading this lived with chronic pain for several years, seeing countless health practitioners and specialists in order to try and discover what was wrong. Sometimes you’d get small insights from these health professionals that helped, and at other times you’d find yourself in more pain.

Living with long term-pain, especially after years of medical appointments, tests and the endless searching for answers, it’s natural to develop habits of thinking and reacting that feel as if they’re ‘fixed’. Even when you begin learning about neuroplastic symptoms or discover Dr. John Sarno’s work on Tension Myoneural Syndrome (TMS) and finally see a way forward, something inside can still feel stuck. The term for that gridlocked feeling is mental rigidity. 

A little while ago I invited a few of the people I teach if they might like to complete a survey. As some of you will know I’m asked to write articles about the Resolving Chronic Pain (RCP) process for interested organisations or journals. I have often wondered what the people involved in the process might like to read about. I was also interested in your experience of the RCP process.

One of the most surprising things about being human is that so much of what we think of another person may actually have little to do with them and a lot to do with us. I’ve come to understand this through my training and the many people I have worked with in the Resolving Chronic Pain (RCP) process.

When Daniel first approached me, he’d been suffering from unpleasant and debilitating stomach problems for several years. As a result, his life opportunities had significantly shrunk and the values he’d always upheld seemed to have slipped away.

Many people grow up in homes where keeping the peace isn’t just encouraged, it’s an emotional requirement. There can be many reasons for this. The tension may come from parents struggling financially, family issues, alcohol misuse, unpredictable moods, unspoken grief or the heavy silences that shape so many households.

At this time of year it’s hard to avoid hearing about new year’s resolutions. Although the general consensus seems to be that they rarely last, many of us still go ahead and make them. Mine was to stop drinking alcohol for six weeks, and week one has gone splendidly, mainly because I think my body is so relieved to have a rest from consumption! 

I met up with a good friend recently. We’ve known each other since university, where we shared rooms, so we have a lot of common ground - including the obligatory shared embarrassing memories! Our youthful misdemeanours have given us a special bond, although I sometimes wonder how on earth our landlord put up with us.

As you know I love being outside in nature, and cycling is one of the outdoor activities I’ve come to enjoy. I know my limits though: mountain biking a while ago in Italy up and down steep gullies was definitely a step too far!

Last year, as many of you know, I travelled to the USA to attend the first in-person conference on Psychophysiologic Disorders in Boulder, Colorado. I’d been teaching in San Francisco with Lissa Rankin the previous weekend, which meant I was perfectly attuned to the time zone.

When you live with chronic pain, ‘safety’ might not be the first word that comes to mind. You might be more familiar with tension, tightness and the constant background hum of worry, wondering when the next flare-up will come. But what if feeling safe enough was actually one of the keys to helping your body and brain heal?

Many years ago, a dear friend of mine asked me to be godmother to her daughter Jess. I’ve loved following Jess’s development from infant to competent professional, but over the years there’s been little opportunity for us to catch up, for a variety of reasons. I often need a nudge to contact her outside of Christmas and birthdays.

Some of you may know that I have identical twin brothers who are older than me, and it’s them I have to thank for my initial interest in movement.  When we were children no-one else could tell my brothers apart, but to me it was always obvious who was who as their walking styles were so different

We’ve all been there - that heavy, dragging feeling when we just don’t want to do something. It could be a workout, a difficult conversation, tidying the house or sitting down to a creative project. There’s a quiet tug inward, a little voice that whispers ‘not now… maybe later’. Resistance creeps in subtly, sometimes disguised as tiredness, distraction or apathy. If we’re not careful, it can pull us into full withdrawal, disconnected from what we intuitively know is good for us.

When Chris* reached out to me he’d been experiencing chronic back pain for almost a year and low, grumbling pain for far longer. It was only when it had become unbearable that he contacted me.

A great sadness was how much his world had shrunk. He’d loved sport and playing Tag Rugby in particular, as well as enjoying the social life that accompanied it. Now none of this was possible because of the debilitating back pain.

One of the wonderful people I teach has told me about some of the challenges she faced in her childhood.