Acute pain is inevitable, but chronic pain just might be avoidable…
Physical pain is an expected and necessary part of the human experience—sprained ankles, stubbed toes, stomach cramps, headaches, toothaches, bruises, burns, bites. These are all temporarily terrible, and the more severe the pain, the more difficult it is to endure.
As a physiologist, I see pain as data. An intelligent biological alarm sending a signal through our nervous system to warn us of danger, remind us that we’re alive, and allow us to appreciate times of “feeling good.” In an ideal pain cycle, a stressor triggers a response, we allow ourselves to feel it, our body processes and releases that energy, and the nervous system returns to baseline.
The problem? Society programs us to do the exact opposite. Somewhere along the way, we were conditioned to treat pain as an adversary, a burden to be silenced, so as not to be seen as weak. Beneath that conditioning lies a deep fear of the pain itself—fear of what it means, how long it will last, or that we won't be able to handle it. And physiologically, fear is the ultimate fuel for resistance.
When we fear pain, our nervous system immediately braces against it. Whether it’s a sharp twinge in the lower back, a tension headache, or a heavy wave of grief, our immediate instinct is to avoid, deny, suppress, and numb the first sign of discomfort. We distract ourselves, take something to dull the edge, and bury it so we can keep powering through. We were never taught how to feel into the pain.
Yet silencing the hurt doesn’t make it go away; it only feeds it, exacerbates it, and propels us to the opposite end of the spectrum: long-term, chronic pain*.
Let me share a story that still amazes me.
One night, I was cooking with a cast-iron skillet. I had taken the silicone sleeve off the handle to wash it and completely forgot it wasn’t there. Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed the scorching-hot metal handle with a full, open palm.
The pain was immediate and intense. Normally, that is the exact moment I would panic, curse, brace every muscle in my body, and frantically look for something to numb the sensation. Instead, I sat in my bathtub, ran cool water over my hand, let out many loud wolf howls, and made a conscious choice to feel every bit of it. Rather than tensing up and fighting the sensation, I softened my body and allowed the waves of heat and pain to wash all the way through me. I sat there in the tub, fully present with the discomfort, for about an hour until the intensity finally subsided on its own.
By the next morning, I woke up with no blisters, no lingering pain, and no lasting issues. While cool water certainly helped with basic first aid, I truly believe that refusing to panic or lock that trauma into my nervous system allowed my body to process the shock and heal cleanly.
Of course, you don’t have to grab a scorching skillet to practice this. It’s just as vital in the small, everyday jolts we normally brush right past—like jamming a finger in a drawer, nearly getting sideswiped by an unaware cyclist, or watching a glass jar fall off the countertop and miss our foot by an inch. Even when we walk away uninjured, those moments flood the nervous system with sudden shock and protective tension. Instead of muttering "I'm fine" and rushing back to the to-do list, taking just one extra minute to pause, breathe, and let the body feel and release that surge of adrenaline prevents those micro-shocks from quietly stacking up into chronic tension over time.
Chronic pain happens when we interrupt the body’s natural release cycle. When we refuse to listen to the messenger and continuously avoid or numb that signal, the nervous system stays locked in a state of high alert. The brain, sensing the alarm was never resolved, keeps firing. Neural pathways become sensitized, muscles hold onto chronic protective tension, and what started as a temporary, acute signal transforms into ongoing distress.
Emotional and mental pain follow this exact same blueprint—when we bypass grief or fear instead of letting it move through us, we trap that stress response inside the tissue. Stuck pain never stays quiet forever; it waits beneath the surface, only to show up later, stronger, stealthier, and with far more endurance and voracity than it initially had.
From the moment we experience this persistent discomfort, conventional medical systems often hand us a life sentence disguised as a diagnosis. We are given lists of symptoms, syndromes, and grim predictions about wear and tear, aging, and future joint replacements. Without realizing it, those interactions install a deeply held belief: this is just how my body is now, and I will learn how to deal with the pain. When we believe pain is permanent, we stop looking for the exit. We settle into managing it, numbing it, and just “living with it.”
I firmly believe it is possible to live a life without chronic pain.
This is where somatic movement changes everything.
Understandably, when we’ve hurt for years and been told by experts that it’s permanent, it’s hard to imagine anything else. Yet before any tool can work, we must gently open the door to the possibility that we aren't stuck in pain forever—and actually believe that living free from chronic pain is within reach. And that belief is half the battle!
Once we open the door to that possibility, somatic intervention gives us the exact tools we need to bridge the gap. We can’t think our way out of a pattern that is stored in our nervous system, and we can’t numb our way to healing. Instead, somatic movement helps us drop out of conditioning and back into the felt sense of our bodies. Through slow, intentional action, breath, and inward attunement, these practices teach the nervous system that it is finally safe to let go of its outdated bracing patterns and protective armor—allowing us to safely feel what we’ve been avoiding so it can finally be released.
Our bodies aren’t broken or fated for constant pain. The labels of suffering we’ve been given aren't our destiny.
When we unlearn the belief that we are stuck in our suffering, are re-introduced to our bodies, pick up the tools that allow us to feel our way through, and finally listen to the messenger, everything shifts. Pain stops being a life sentence—and finally begins to let go.
Curious what somatic movement looks like in practice? Explore resources at ashlentz.com/somatic-coaching.
*Disclaimer: The "chronic pain" discussed in this article focuses on muscular, soft-tissue, and nervous-system-related patterns—not pain stemming from structural wear, conditions present from birth, or acute medical issues. This content is intended for educational purposes only and is not a substitute for personalized medical care.
