When your forced to Pause: When guilt comes with pain

It’s taken me a while to write this. Not because I didn’t want to—but because I didn’t know how to say it out loud.

I’ve been off work since March.
And no, it wasn’t planned. It wasn’t wanted.
It broke me.

Over the past few months, I’ve faced what feels like a mountain of physical pain—sciatica that made walking feel impossible, dizzy spells from vertigo, relentless joint and muscle pain, and the life-altering confirmation that I need a full knee replacement.

The thing is… deep down, I’ve always known this day would come.
After 18 knee surgeries in my adult life, I knew my body was running out of options.
I just didn’t think it would be now. Not yet.

I wasn’t ready.
But are we ever?

My world—once so busy and full of purpose—suddenly stopped. And with it came something I didn’t expect: guilt.

Isn’t it strange how we feel bad for being in pain? For not showing up? For needing rest? I’ve always been someone who pushed through. A go-go-go kind of woman. I took pride in working hard—crazy hard. So when my body gave out, my heart followed. I felt like I’d failed.

I couldn’t even bring myself to visit the thrift store I loved so much—the place I poured my creativity into. I missed my team terribly, but I stayed away. I worried:
If I can show up and smile… will they think I’m okay? Will they wonder why I’m not working? Will they judge me?

That’s the invisible part of pain—the part no one sees but we carry every day.

And then, when I finally got the official news—you need a new knee—something strange happened. The guilt began to lift. Because now I had something “visible.” Something people might understand.

And that realization hit hard.
Why do we need proof to validate our pain?
Why do we hide? Why do we carry shame over something we didn’t choose?

Since March, I’ve been grieving more than just mobility. I’ve been grieving a life I loved. I've been navigating what it means to lose rhythm, routine, and the ability to just be who I used to be.

Some days I’m hopeful. Some days I’m grieving.
Some days I’m just trying to be okay.

But this is my truth.
This is healing.
This is what life looks like when you’re rebuilding from the inside out.

If you’ve ever felt the guilt of slowing down, the fear of being judged, or the crushing weight of losing the life you used to live—I hope this post helps you feel less alone.

I’m still here.
Still healing.
Still writing.
And I’ll keep showing up and sharing it all, one step at a time.

With love,
Lisa-Marie