Look Like a pain

Introduction

Have you ever heard someone say, "You don't look like you're in pain"? It's as if people think pain is something you can see. But pain doesn't really announce itself. It hides behind smiles, straightened spines, and the words we choose. This is the story of Maya, a woman who mastered the facade of everything being fine when her whole life was coming apart.

The First Crack

Maya was the person people could always count on to show up. She baked cookies for her coworkers, remembered everyone’s birthday, and sent overwhelming “just thinking of you” texts at midnight when she was supposed to be asleep. To anyone who passed by her desk at the marketing agency, she was the literal embodiment of sunshine.

But on that Monday morning in February, something about her felt, well, splintered. It started simply enough—she woke up when her alarm went off, stared at the ceiling for too long, and practiced her smile in the bathroom mirror. It still seemed convincing—at least she hoped it did.

Comments from a colleague

At lunch, Maya's colleague James stares at her from across the table.

“You are fortunate to be so healthy,” he said, chewing his sandwich. “I can't fathom being in constant pain. But, you don't seem to be in pain."

Maya laughed, too loud and sharp, thinking, if only you knew.

Later that night, alone in her apartment, she peeled off her work clothing and slipped to the surface of a pain-free universe. On the floor by the heater, she wrapped her knees, letting the tears fall silently down her face. She heard her phone buzzing with a group chat filled with memes and typed L.O.L on my behalf, feeling the shaking of my hands.

The Social Facade

The following Saturday, Maya went to her friend's birthday dinner. Pictures were taken, glasses clinked, and laughter filled the restaurant. Her smile in those pictures was perfect- a perfect crescent under twinkling lights. But halfway through the night, her lower back screamed loud enough to send her to the bathroom just to breathe. She locked the stall, leaned over the sink, and whispered to herself, "Hang in there."

Outside, the world would never suspect a thing. Pain is not something that can be rendered in photographs; it does not trend, nor does it fit neatly into Instagram posts.

Someone's Kindness

It all started on a typical Tuesday. Maya stopped into a little bookshop after work to enjoy a few quiet moments. After pulling a book from a shelf to consider buying, she felt the familiar shot of pain in her spine, and the book slipped from her hand and dropped to the floor. An older woman, soft spoken, stopped what she was doing to pick up the book for Maya, and for a moment their eyes connected.

"You are hurting," the woman said, plainly.

Maya froze. "Excuse me?"

"You are holding your body like someone who is dangerous to touch," the woman said, softly. "I know that look. I've been there."

It was such a small moment between them, but nonetheless, something broke within Maya. This older lady actually saw her. Saw her. And with that acknowledgement, for maybe the first time in months, she felt something close to relief.

Opening Up

That night, when she lay in her bed and her family was asleep, she opened her phone and wrote a long, shaky message to her very best friend. Her closest friend Leah was someone Maya could tell the truth to— the truth that was hidden behind her smile, behind her vulnerabilities and bad days.

She let Leah know about the exhausting hard days when she spent her afternoons in the bathrooms of her workplace crying quietly before switching to work mode, the truth that nobody was aware of. Leah replied quickly, within minutes, with "Why didn't you say anything? You don't have to do this alone."

The following weekend, Leah came over with food, heating pads, and Netflix selections. They ate noodles while lounging on the couch, content to just laugh quietly together. For the first time in years, Maya let herself not be “the strong one.”

The Hidden Epidemic

Maya’s story is not unusual. Millions of people carry invisible pain, physical or emotional, that people expect them to carry in silence. Society admires strength and resilience, but rarely creates space for vulnerability. “You don't look sick,” or “It can't be that bad,” may be phrases that cut deeper than the listeners realize.

Invisible struggles can be chronic illness, mental health issues, grief, or even burnout. The world doesn't see the sleepless nights, the tiny victories, or the daily negotiations between body and will.

Maya’s Choice

In the months that followed, Maya began to share her experiences online. Not in a loud or attention-seeking way, but in blog posts that were somewhat thoughtful and in small captions on Instagram. She called her series “Look Like a Pain,” a phrase that had felt dismissive at one time but grew into her badge of quiet resistance.

People felt heard. Messages arrived by the dozen:

“Your story feels like mine.”

“I thought I was the only one.”

“Thank you for voicing that.”

Maya recognized that she unlocked a door for other people too; when they saw her be vulnerable, they felt they could be as well.

Lessons

At the close of the year, Maya had not healed her pain; her back still hurt some days worse than others—but now, she had learned not to apologize for it. She learned that being strong was not to suffer in silence, but rather to live fully with her suffering.

The world did not change overnight. People still said nonsensical things. Yet now, when someone might say, “You don’t look like you’re in pain,” she smiled politely, and simply said, “Pain does not always look like you think it does.”

Final Thought

Pain has no face. Pain does not always walk with a limp or come down your face in tears; sometimes it is hiding behind the biggest smile in the room. Maya's story is a reminder to approach others with kindness and softness—you never know what type of pain they are fighting on the inside.

You matter. Your heartache matters.

This work is a masterfully written story about pain, the pain of those that cannot be seen. Most readers will resonate with the feelings that are expressed either through their own personal histories or through experiences they have witnessed as caregivers or observers. It is a heartfelt story, that everyone should read because it may lead to more understanding in a world that truly needs more.