A few weeks ago, I was on a flight with my husband. When we fly, he always takes the middle seat and I sit in the aisle. It’s something he never would have done prior to meeting me. Although he’s always happy to do it, even pointing out the positives like being able to put the armrest up and make a “bigger seat”, I still feel bad. No one likes the middle seat.
Even knowing he doesn’t resent it, and that it’s one of the many ways he shows love, I’m human. And the middle seat on an airplane really does suck.
During the flight, I noticed an older man sitting across the aisle from me. He was wearing a back brace that extended all the way up to his neck — one of those metal ones that looks impossibly uncomfortable. As someone who wore a back brace for much of my adolescence, I immediately felt for him. His wife was sitting beside him in the middle seat. It was hard not to notice the parallel.
He and I moved through the flight in similar ways. We both stood up multiple times, walking slowly up and down the aisle, stretching our backs, lingering a few seconds longer than necessary. When I fly, I often find myself silently begging for the flight to end, and I noticed him engaging in something very similar. We never spoke, but the interaction stayed with me. It made me think about how important our partners are in the journey of chronic pain.
My husband is one of my biggest supporters — not just in life, but in pain. I often think about how lucky I am, not only to have him, but to have surrounded myself with friends and family who care deeply and never treat me like a burden.
The unfortunate thing about chronic pain is that it’s incredibly boring to talk about. My husband and my best friend could tell me a million times that I’m not a burden, and I’ll still ask that million-and-first time just to double-check.
It’s hard not to feel like one when a pain day is particularly bad, or when it falls on a day that really matters.
I know chronic pain doesn’t just disappear. I’ve let go of that hope. But my journey now, and probably forever, is making sure the pain doesn’t get in the way of living my life, or allowing the people I love to live and enjoy theirs.
Feeling like a burden is a terrible feeling. What I’ve found helps most is gratitude. I thank the people in my life constantly, even when they tell me to stop. I show up for them in every way that I can. And I make sure they know I’m always in their corner.
My husband also lives with a chronic illness that he’s very open about. One of the things I admire most about how he handles it is that if he’s not in a hospital bed, he’s showing up for the people in his life.
I try to take that same approach and make it my own. Because as anyone with a chronic condition knows, when you have a good day, you take that day and ride it for as long as you can.
My good days are amazing. My bad days are still good, because I try to fill them with things I can enjoy depending on what my body needs.
On a high-pain day, that might mean walking to get a matcha, doing a quick stretch, watching movies, or catching up with friends.
On a low-pain day, I’m lifting heavy weights, cooking meals from scratch, and running all over the city with the people I love.
This is how we find balance — by learning how to ride the highs and lows of each day.
I’ve found that writing this Substack has been challenging because it’s forced me to sit with my pain and really think about the things I do every day that contribute to lower or higher pain levels. My goal with this space is to share a glimpse into the life of chronic pain, but also to offer tips — small things I’ve noticed that help me.
Today’s tips are about traveling with chronic pain. Some are practical items you can purchase to make life easier; others are mental tools I use to get through a long-haul flight, car or train ride.
Tip #1: Find the right travel pillow for your body.
I personally hate neck pillows. Truly. But my inflatable lumbar support pillow has saved me on numerous long-haul flights. I love that thing. It gives me just enough support to reduce the constant shifting and bracing that usually happens when I sit for too long. The takeaway: don’t assume the standard travel gear will work for you — experiment until you find something that actually helps.
Tip #2: Have a plan for pain relief.
Figure out what works for you ahead of time. Sometimes it might mean layering strategies. This isn’t medical advice, but for me that might look like a gummy or a muscle relaxant for longer flights. The key is not waiting until you’re already miserable at 35,000 feet — have your plan ready before you board.
Tip #3: Bring distractions for when you can’t sleep.
For those of us who can’t sleep on flights, having activities is essential. I watch my husband fall asleep before we even take off, while I’m twisting around trying to find a comfortable position. This is when my Kindle comes in handy. I’ve been on flights where I’ve cleared three books because it’s the only thing that gets my mind off my pain. Coloring books, reading, a great movie, or even listening to an entire soundtrack can help. (Personal experience confirms that the full Hamilton soundtrack is an excellent distraction.)
Tip #4: Don’t be a hero.
Do not sit there pretending everything is fine when you’re in pain. There’s power in telling at least one person. Not necessarily because they can fix it, but because two people holding the reality feels very different than being alone in your own head.
My therapist recently told me that writing this Substack is helpful for that exact reason — even if I’m just screaming into the void of the internet, at least I’m not alone with it. And when you’re traveling in pain, that small shift can make a big difference.