Hidden Pain

During my holistic massage treatments, I often ask my client’s body what it needs

It’s a silent conversation

Where images, feelings and insights gently rise to the surface

Offering clarity on what the body is holding onto

Yesterday, as I worked with a client, the message of hidden pain came forward with a quiet intensity.

It reminded me how much emotional pain lives beneath the surface, hidden from sight, even from ourselves at times.

Unlike a broken leg, which demands immediate attention

Emotional wounds have a way of slipping into the shadows, unnoticed, yet profoundly shaping our lives.

It made me pause and think about my own hidden pain—the pieces of myself that I’ve tucked away

The hurts I’ve kept concealed, not just from others, but from my own awareness.

There’s a part of us that hides what hurts most, perhaps because facing it feels too overwhelming.

But just because it’s hidden, doesn’t mean it’s gone.

Our emotional pain becomes part of the fabric of who we are.

It influences how we interact with the world, how we connect with others and even how we see ourselves.

It’s the weight we carry in our shoulders, the unease in our hearts, the restlessness in our sleep.

And yet, because it’s invisible, we often don’t give it the same care or attention as we would a physical injury.

We become experts at masking it, ignoring it, pretending it isn’t there.

But deep down, we know.

Hidden pain has a way of whispering to us, even when we try to silence it.

It shows up in the moments we least expect

In a conversation that triggers an old wound

In the way we react to stress

Or in the patterns we find ourselves repeating, despite our best intentions.

Yet hidden pain doesn’t mean weakness.

It’s simply a part of being human.

It’s a reminder that we’ve lived, that we’ve loved, that we’ve faced challenges.

But there’s immense power in acknowledging it, in bringing it into the light, even if only for ourselves.

So, where is your hidden pain?

What parts of you have you tucked away, out of sight, perhaps even from yourself?

And what would it feel like to gently let them come to the surface, to allow yourself the grace of healing?

There is strength in vulnerability, in allowing ourselves to sit with our pain without judgement or fear.

To feel it, to honour it and to let it transform us in ways we never imagined.

By facing what we’ve hidden, we open the door to true healing—not just for ourselves, but for those around us.

After all, healing is a shared journey.

Where does your hidden pain reside?

What might you discover if you allow yourself to sit with it

Just for a moment?