Of Chronic Pain & the Healing Effect of Art

This past week has been especially poignant as I’ve watched my husband struggle with intense pain — urgent care visits, painkillers, and injections marking our days.

Being a witness to your loved one’s suffering, feeling helpless in their search for relief, while they’re not sharing just how much pain they’re in so as not to worry you, brings its own kind of ache.

It’s what prompting me to share this video about my own journey with chronic pain, hoping that opening up about these invisible, but nonetheless real, battles might help others feel less alone.

Living with chronic pain is like carrying an invisible weight that stays like heavy fog.

Whether you’re experiencing the physical reality of your own body rebelling against you or you’re carrying the emotional burden of watching someone you love endure it, the experience reshapes your perspective on life.

It tests your patience, your resilience, and your ability to find joy. Sometimes, it feels like surviving the day was all you could do.

I know that feeling all too well.

---

Finding Light Through Art

Three years ago, I entered this uncharted territory of chronic pain. My days are often dictated by how much—or how little—my body cooperates. On the hardest days, when even getting out of bed feels impossible, I’ve learned to turn to art.

Art has been my saving grace. My lifeline.

Creating something—anything—has given me a sense of purpose when everything else felt heavy.

This isn’t just my story. It’’ a story shared by many who’ve found solace in creativity.

When Research Meets Reality

Research backs up what I’ve experienced firsthand: art doesn’t just distract from pain; it actively soothes it.

The Mayo Clinic Press has documented how artistic expression enhances well-being, providing comfort, healing, and even distraction from pain. Similarly, an initiative at the Mayo Clinic’s Arizona campus showed how creative activities offered patients and their families respite from the mental, physical, and emotional stresses of prolonged hospital stays

For women over 55, creativity can be particularly transformative.

The National Endowment for the Arts published a report emphasizing how artistic engagement improves mental health, combats loneliness, and fosters a sense of belonging. Their findings show that regular creative expression helps older adults find community and reclaim parts of themselves they thought were lost .

These studies resonate deeply with me because they affirm what I’ve experienced in my own journey. On days when the pain is too much, and the anxiety omnipresent, I pick up a brush, not because I want to create something impressive … because I want to create some moments where I’m more than my pain.

---

A Different Kind of Healing

There’s a meditative quality in making repetitive marks or playing with colors. It’s all about immersing myself in the process—a process that reminds me I’m still here, still capable, still me trapped inside an uncooperative body.

I’ve also learned that art’s power extends beyond my own relief.

When I create something to share, I’m not just making a gift. I’m channeling energy that might otherwise feed the pain into something that brings joy to someone else.

It’s a temporary reprieve, yes, but one that reverberates. That echo of kindness has found its way back to me over and over, lifting me in unexpected ways.

Chronic pain has a way of isolating you, making you feel like your experience is yours alone. Some of you may be surprised by this video because I don’t fit the picture of someone living with pain — it is invisible to most.

If you’re in pain—physical, emotional, or both—let me tell you what I wish someone had told me earlier: it’s okay to feel what you’re feeling.

It’s okay to grieve the body or life you thought you’d have.

But in those moments, when it feels like the weight is too much, pick up a pen and a scrap of paper.

Give yourself permission to create, not for an audience, not for perfection, but for you.

Art has taught me that healing doesn’t always mean curing.

Sometimes, healing is about finding moments of peace within the storm, moments where you can say, “Today, I made something beautiful.”

And if that beauty brings joy to someone else? That’s a gift beyond measure.

As I write this, we’re facing some uncertainties. But I’ve learned through experience that while we can’t always control the outcome, we can choose how we carry each other through it.

Sometimes, that means creating beauty in the midst of uncertainty.

---

Your Journey Begins Here

Make art. Have fun. Repeat.

It’s a mantra that’s carried me through more days than I can count. I hope it carries you, too.

Here are a few simple ways to start integrating creativity into your day:

• Start Small, Start Simple

  • Keep a small sketchbook or journal by your bed or in your bag. Or explore pre-printed coloring books or journals with prompts—low-effort tools to get you started without decision fatigue.

• Use What You Have

  • Don’t worry about fancy supplies. A pencil, pen, or even crayons can be enough. The act of creating matters more than the medium.

• Focus on Process, Not Product

  • Set aside time for art as self-care, free from judgment. Remind yourself that this is for you, not for an audience.

• Experiment with Repetition

  • Repetitive actions, like drawing circles, painting lines or writing a single word over and over, can have a meditative effect.

• Share Joy Through Creation

  • Try making small pieces of art to give away. The act of giving connects us and reminds us that our pain doesn’t define us.

• Join a Community

  • Look for local or online art groups. Shared experiences can help you feel less isolated and offer inspiration on days when you need a boost.

  • I’ll be offering drop in office hours, soon. Perhaps, you’d like to attend? Message me if you’d like to get on the waitlist.

• Be Kind to Yourself

  • Not every day will be a “good” day for creating, and that’s okay. Even simply holding space for the idea of art can be healing.

Create something joyful just for you.

And please know, in those moments when the fog feels thickest, you’re not alone — many of us are trying to create light in that darkness alongside you.

With love,

Mansi.