What Chronic Pain Taught Me About Rest, Guilt and the Lives Women Quietly Carry

It’s been a hot minute…and yes, I’ve been quiet. Not because I disappeared, but because I finally stopped pushing through pain like it was a personality trait.

A few weeks ago, I had surgery. A hysterectomy, and when I woke up in recovery, something strange happened. 

I instantly felt so much lighter.

Not emotionally (although, that too), but physically. Like someone had removed a brick from my abdomen. One I hadn’t realised I’d been carrying, while doing school lunches, running a household, working, planning, organising, remembering, nurturing, trying to exercise…you know, existing as a woman!

And that’s when it hit me.

How much of my life had been quietly limited by pain?

Women Are Tough. That Toughness is Learned, Not Chosen.

Women are incredible at carrying on. 

We carry babies.
We carry families.
We carry the mental load, emotional labour, invisible to-do lists, and the weight of everyone else’s needs.

And we carry pain.

Often silently. Often for years. Often while being told “it’s just part of being a woman.”

Period pain. Pelvic pain. Hormonal chaos. Fatigue. Migraines. Back pain. Endometriosis. Adenomyosis. Fibroids. Chronic inflammation. “Normal” pain that somehow still allows the world to expect full productivity.

We don’t stop.
We adapt.
We normalise.
We downplay.

Until one day, we realise we’ve built an entire life around coping – not living.

The irony isn’t lost on me that the same organ that created life was also slowly ruining mine.

Pain Makes Everything Harder (Even When You’re “Coping”)

Here’s what people don’t always understand about chronic pain.

It doesn’t just hurt – it steals capacity.

It makes work harder.
It shortens patience.
It clouds thinking.
It creates stress, anxiety, burnout and mental exhaustion.
It tightens your nervous system until everything feels urgent and overwhelming.

Pain lives in your body and your brain.

So when people say, “But you were still functioning,” what they really mean is: “You were surviving well enough for no one to notice or to intervene.” And that’s not the same thing as being ok.

Recovery is Harder Than Surgery (And That’s Saying Something)

Let’s be honest, a hysterectomy is major surgery and recovery isn’t a peaceful and relaxing spa retreat.

It’s slow. It’s uncomfortable. It requires rest – real rest – not “sit down but still manage everything” rest. That type of real rest is almost impossible and really confronting when you have kids. Especially during school holidays and especially when you have been so conditioned to getting up, pushing through, doing more and pretending you’re fine.

This recovery wouldn’t have been possible without:

• Charlie taking leave
• My Mum dropping in meals
• Lovely care packages and supportive messages from friends
• Letting things slide instead of holding everything together perfectly

I know not everyone has that support and I don’t take that lightly.

What this forced pause gave me was clarity. I realised how much I’d been white-knuckling life and knew I’d really pushed myself to the absolute limit. The scale of what I’d been dealing with only really started to sink in once I stopped bracing for the pain to return. 

That’s when I realised how pain had become second nature to me.

The Guilt We Carry Is Heavier Than the Pain

Surgery recovery is more than just healing, it’s also learning to recover from guilt.

Guilt for resting.
Guilt for slowing down.
Guilt for not being everything to everyone.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth:

Rest isn’t selfish. It’s preventative.

For your body.
For your nervous system.
For your kids who need a regulated parent more than a burnt-out hero.

Taking a break isn’t weakness, and ignoring pain isn’t strength.

If There’s One Thing I’ve Learned…

It’s this:

• Listen to your body.
• Don’t normalise pain that is shrinking your life.
• Don’t feel guilty for needing rest.
• Don’t wait for everything to completely fall apart before you give yourself permission to stop.

Pain is not a badge of honour.
Endurance is not the goal.
And healing, real healing, takes time, support and self-compassion.

When you take care of your body and mind, you don’t lose momentum. You get your life back.

So If You’ve Been Pushing Through…

This is your reminder: 

You’re allowed to pause.
You’re allowed to ask questions.
You’re allowed to seek answers.
You’re allowed to rest, without justification.

Because when pain is removed, you realise how much space it was taking, and how much life there is on the other side.