Pain and Shame: Workers With Chronic Pain Often Feel Pressured to Perform

By Beth Schinoff and Elana Feldman

Your back pain gets worse as you sit through a long meeting. Your wrist pain flares when you’re typing furiously to meet a tight deadline. During a busy shift at the grocery store, you feel a migraine coming on.

If that sounds familiar, you’ve got plenty of company. About 1 in 4 U.S. adults suffer from chronic pain. The share who say they are in chronic pain either on most days or every day in the past three months is growing: It jumped by nearly 4 percentage points to 23% of U.S. adults in 2023, up from 19% in 2019.

Chronic pain is not only hard on workers trying to do their jobs, but it also takes a toll on employers and the economy as a whole by costing an estimated US$722 billion in lost productivity each year.

As management scholars who study how people feel at work, we wanted to understand why chronic pain so often makes it impossible for employees to do their work – and even to keep their jobs.

Pushing Through the Pain

With this in mind, we teamed up with two other management researchers, Kimberly Rocheville of Creighton University and Njoke Thomas of Boston College, to conduct a study that Academy of Management Journal published online in January 2026 and will include in an upcoming print edition.

We interviewed 66 people between 2019 and 2021. All of them said that they were in chronic pain – meaning pain that lasts for at least three months. They were all U.S. workers and at least 18 years old. They lived all over the country, in relatively more urban than rural areas. Our sample was 78% women because women tend to experience more chronic pain than men and tend to be more open to talking about their pain.

This professionally diverse group included lawyers, grocery store workers, teachers, police officers and health care professionals. They experienced many different kinds of pain, such as back pain, migraines, arthritis and fibromyalgia.

We found that this wide array of workers and white-collar professionals pushed through their pain because they felt pressure to have what we call an “ideal worker body”: a body that is healthy and strong enough to do anything their job requires.

Regardless of what job they had, people described a surprisingly similar pressure to perform despite their pain. From warehouse workers to lawyers, people felt they had no choice but to walk without a limp, lift heavy things and sit still during meetings.

Many of these people felt compelled to be ideal workers who put work before everything else in their lives. Previous research has found that these expectations can harm their mental health. We found that it can harm your physical health too.

Hiding Their Pain

Because they were in chronic pain, all of the participants in our study said their body wasn’t healthy and strong enough to do everything their job required when it required them to do it.

Even though they were more than intellectually capable of doing their work, they felt ashamed that their bodies fell short. This led them to hide their pain. They took the stairs, instead of the elevator, to seem more like their co-workers who felt fine. They avoided managing their pain in ways their colleagues could see, such as by applying ice to areas of their body that were in pain.

Ironically, trying to make it seem like their bodies were ideal worsened pain for all 66 of the people we interviewed. Most of them eventually reached a point where their pain became so intolerable that they could not function at or outside of work.

Some of them ultimately had to leave their jobs and found other ones that were more compatible with their chronic pain symptoms. In a few cases, they exited the workforce entirely.

This is not unusual. Chronic pain is the leading reason for workers becoming eligible for long-term disability benefits.

Breaking the Cycle

A few of the people we interviewed told us that they managed to escape the damaging cycle of shame and pain.

Why were they able to break free?

First, they found doctors who told them their pain was real. Getting a clear diagnosis and having a medical professional recognize their physical limitations helped them understand that they could never look healthy and strong as expected, no matter how hard they tried.

This released them from the pressure of trying to do so.

Second, most of these people had employers who cared more about what they did – the work itself – and less about how their body looked and moved, even if this meant finding a new job or even changing their profession. As a result, they felt free to ask colleagues for help, stretch during meetings, use dictation software instead of typing, or keep the camera off during Zoom calls so they could lie down when their backs were aching.

They also came up with creative ways of working that were more efficient and better for their bodies. For example, an ultrasound technician told us that she learned to scan patients using both her arms instead of constantly using the same arm. A deli worker said she started using a cart to move heavy meats around the store.

Although we focused on how pressure to be strong and healthy can hurt workers with chronic pain, we believe our findings could matter to everyone – no matter their size, strength, age or employment status.

After all, it’s possible to feel social pressure to conceal aches and pain when you’re in public settings of any kind. And failing to move around when needed or take care of your body in other ways can make you vulnerable to more pain.

Beth Schinoff, PhD, is an Assistant Professor of Management in the Alfred Lerner College of Business and Economics at the University of Delaware.

Elana Feldman, PhD, is an Associate Professor of Management in the Manning School of Business at UMass Lowell and a former Visiting Scholar at Harvard Business School.

This article originally appeared in The Conversation and is republished with permission.

Women with Endometriosis Often Miss School and Work Due to Pain

By Dr. Rasha Al-Lami

More than two-thirds of women with endometriosis missed school or work due to pain from the condition, in a study of more than 17,000 women between the ages of 15 and 44 in the U.S. That is a key finding of new research published in the Journal of Endometriosis and Uterine Disorders.

Our study also found that Black and Hispanic women were less likely to be diagnosed with endometriosis compared with white women. Interestingly, women who identified as part of the LGBTQ community had a higher likelihood of receiving an endometriosis diagnosis than heterosexual women.

We used data from the National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey, which is administered by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, for the period 2011 to 2019. The survey data use adjusted weights to account for the racial composition of U.S. society, meaning our sample of 17,619 women represents 51,981,323 women of the U.S. population.

We specifically examined factors related to quality of life, such as poverty, education and functional impairment, as well as race and sexual orientation.

Endometriosis is a chronic, often painful condition that affects approximately 10% of reproductive-age women worldwide. It occurs when tissues that would normally line the inner surface of the uterus instead occur outside the uterus, such as on the ovaries or even in distant organs such as the lungs or brain. These abnormally located lesions respond to hormonal changes during the menstrual cycle, causing pain when stimulated by the hormones that regulate the menstrual cycle.

Black and Hispanic Women Less Likely to Be Diagnosed

Our study sheds light on how endometriosis, despite its prevalence, remains underdiagnosed and underresearched. We found that 6.4% of reproductive-age women in the U.S. had an endometriosis diagnosis. More than 67% reported missed work or school, or having been unable to perform daily activities, due to pain associated with endometriosis.

Our study highlights disparities in the diagnosis and management of endometriosis among different racial groups. Black women had 63% lower odds of getting an endometriosis diagnosis, and Hispanic women had 55% lower odds compared with non-Hispanic white women. This disparity may reflect historical biases in health care, pointing to the need for more equitable practices.

In addition, our study underscores the importance of considering women’s health across diverse population subgroups, with particular attention to sexual orientation. We found that non-heterosexual lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer women had 54% higher odds of receiving an endometriosis diagnosis compared with straight women. Our study was the first to examine endometriosis likelihood among non-heterosexual women at the national level in the U.S.

We found no significant association between endometriosis and other quality-of-life indicators such as poverty, education or employment status, which suggests that the condition affects women across various socioeconomic backgrounds.

Our work adds to the growing body of evidence that Black women are less likely to be diagnosed with endometriosis and that their reported pain symptoms are often overlooked.

Explanations for this inequity include health care bias against minority women and limited access to medical care among Black women. Research also shows that many medical professionals as well as medical students and residents believe that Black women have a lower pain threshold compared with the white population.

This is another possible reason that pain symptoms among Black women with endometriosis get neglected. Researchers from the U.K reported the same findings, attributing these disparities to systemic bias and inequitable medical care.

Another study estimates that the lifetime costs associated with having endometriosis are about $27,855 per year per patient in the U.S., costing the country about $22 billion annually on health care expenditures.

Rasha Al-Lami, MD, is a women’s health researcher at Yale University. 

This article originally appeared in The Conversation and is republished with permission.

Winning My Disability Case

By Mia Maysack, PNN Columnist

Never had I ever sent a thank you note to a judicial official. Not until I learned, after a four-year long process, that my disability case has been approved.  

So I write this teary-eyed, realizing I can now look into getting an oxygen tank for my cluster headaches, as the ability to obtain one through regular insurance was denied multiple times. I can also implement regular massages into my pain management plan, which might sound luxurious but for me is more a matter of physical functionality.

This decision will give me bits and pieces of my life back. The money will be extraordinarily helpful, a lifesaver really.   

I have chosen to no longer feel anything negative about deciding to pursue my case. Perhaps I don't deserve it as much as the next person or maybe I am too young or able bodied at times to even have filed. 

I pursued my claim only as a last resort, holding onto my identity as a worker and employee for dear life — and for far longer than what was in my best interest.

There's no question that part of what heightened my ailments is the fact that I pushed myself too far for a very long time. But having already been so used to daily head pain, I kept my head up by remaining busy and distracted on other things. That’s how I survived.

I also attempted countless career paths to accommodate my illnesses, including but not limited to working part-time, shortening shifts, changing job titles and even accepting positions I was overqualified for because being a part of the workforce has always been a value of mine.  

I've been fired, had hours cut to the point of being forced to quit, experienced pain induced panic attacks and frequently needed to leave work -- unfortunately not with fair warning or adequate notice to my employer. This resulted in judgement and discrimination, despite never being offered accommodations. Nor were there efforts to follow the detailed instructions of my care team by anyone other than me.

So it made the most sense to represent myself at my disability hearing,  as I am my own best expert.  

Applying for disability is extremely strenuous, tiresome and at times very frustrating. Between jumping through the insurance hoops as they try their best to justify not covering what is needed, maintaining numerous appointments, and balancing all the paperwork on top of being chronically ill and in pain. It is no exaggeration to say the disability process is a full-time job.   

Then there's the potential for added hurt when met with the assumption you could just be lazy, exaggerating or are perhaps flat out lying, because it's undeniable that the system has indeed been used and abused. 

To finally have been granted an opportunity for a face-to-face in-person hearing was a gift. It provided the opportunity for me to make my case real. I felt empowered to fully exercise my rights.

I’m also thankful to have crossed paths with someone who I considered to be a fair judge. They corresponded with a vocational expert, treated me with respect (even after I turned down the final chance to have a lawyer represent me), and took all evidence into thoughtful consideration, including the neurology report and testimony of a witness who accompanied me.  

I share this to serve as an illustration of what it's like to travel down this road. It took a lot of detours and led to quite a few dead ends, but to put a face on the “invisibility” that millions of us live with and have it validated is another small step forward.   

Upon being dismissed, the clerk congratulated me and said something that will stick with me forever: "It's not that you weren't doing or wouldn't continue to do well in past endeavors but your calling is higher."

We can find meaning to our lives despite all the rerouting. Sometimes we're even able to build an entirely new path.

Mia Maysack lives with chronic migraine, cluster headaches and fibromyalgia. Mia is the founder of Keepin’ Our Heads Up, a Facebook advocacy and support group, and Peace & Love, a wellness and life coaching practice for the chronically ill.

The information in this column is for informational purposes only and represents the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

My Therapist Told Me to Write This Column

By Crystal Lindell, PNN Columnist

My therapist said I should write a column about how to travel while sick and I would love to do that, but I haven’t figure it out yet.

I get through work trips by drowning myself in dry shampoo, sleeping on conference tables between meetings, eating coffee for every meal, and using pain medication that wears off too fast — all while getting super behind on emails. 

My therapist said I should write a column about how to manage your health while maintaining a full-time job. Who the hell knows how to do this?

I work at home, which is a great gig if you can get it, but most people can’t.

Actually, I do have a life tip: If you have to work while sick, work at home. That’s it. That’s all I’ve got.

I spend my work days in my pajamas under a soft red blanket on the couch. I take pain pills when I hit my 3 pm slump, and I tell my coworkers entirely too many details about my health, while also avoiding using scooters at conferences so that I can look cool. I call in sick too much and not enough. And I am always tired.

My therapist also said I should write a column about how to live with chronic pain. Yeah, okay. I’ll get right on that.

For now, my life tips include: Saying “yes” every single time your doctor offers you pain pills; throwing away every cute pair of heels you own because they just aren’t worth it; and using filters if you ever have to video chat someone.

Every day of my life is a struggle. Every flipping day. I tried working out recently and fractured my foot, and then I tore my rotator cuff by using crutches. Now my foot is still messed up, and I just limp around on it while rubbing my shoulder. Sexy.

I skip physical therapy appointments because they’re too expensive, I’m constantly crash dieting and then gaining the weight back, and I never wear my shoulder sling or my orthopedic boot.

I’m obviously great at this.

I spend all my money on co-pays, Taco Bell, and kratom. I have no long-term career plan that goes anything beyond, “Get disability — eventually.” And I literally go off my antidepressants every few weeks because I think I don’t need them because I’m feeling better. This is a lie. I need them.

I wish I was wise and cute and Pinterest worthy. I’m not. I’m barely Walmart trip worthy most days. I never get enough sleep, I cry entirely too much, and there is literally a dented space on the couch from where I spend all my time.

So if anyone has figured all this out, let me know. You should probably write a column about it.

Crystal Lindell is a journalist who lives in Illinois. She eats too much Taco Bell, drinks too much espresso, and spends too much time looking for the perfect pink lipstick. She has hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome.  Crystal writes about it on her blog, “The Only Certainty is Bad Grammar.”

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represent the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.