‘Chronic Pain Does Not Acknowledge Deadlines’: Work-Life Balance and Redefining Success To Accommodate Illness and Disability

By Phoebe Snedker

For many, burnout comes in waves. A reminder that we need to take a step back from our screens and breathe. But when you have a chronic illness, burnout becomes all consuming. It swallows you whole and each time it spits you back up you emerge slightly more burnt than before.

I grew up a promising student, always included in the ‘gifted and talented’ groups, and my craving for academic success soon became an insatiable hunger. I started an AS level at age fifteen, was one of five students in my school to achieve a 9 at GCSE, full-marked my A Level Literature exam paper, became the first in my family to attend university, and graduated with a 1st. None of this was ever enough. I kept pushing, refused rest and often ignored my symptoms until they demanded attention – often in the form of an A&E visit.

After years of questions and waiting lists, I was diagnosed with endometriosis after a laparoscopic surgery at age eighteen. From the get go, my periods were so heavy I would bleed through pads and a tampon in two hours; the pain would make it impossible to concentrate on anything else, and I looked as if I had shoved a balloon up my shirt most days due to the bloating. As my condition worsened and my list of symptoms increased, my denial worsened with it.

Perhaps as a result of the constant ‘you’re fine’ and ‘this is normal’ comments, I truly believed for a long time that what was happening to me was all just a part of having a uterus. This was until 2020, when, a couple of months after my first surgery, I began experiencing excruciating bladder issues. Almost everything would trigger a flare up – stress, sex, certain foods and drinks – and even when I did everything ‘right’, unrelenting pain was always lurking around the corner. My chronic pain was no longer something I could push to the side. It demanded my full attention. Denying it only led to exhaustion.

Now, the years of denying my body the rest it needed has caught up with me. It perches on my chest, holding me down with a weight I cannot shift. The more I resist it, the deeper it latches onto me, digging its claws into the fibres of my being. Without a notion of succeeding, I struggle to grasp a sense of self, or any semblance of worth. The cycle always plays out the same – where flare-ups lurk, burnout is never too far from its side, making it almost symptomatic of my chronic illness at this stage.

When did our sense of identity become so intertwined with praise and success? Is the concept of the ‘gifted and talented’ child really just a slippery slope into an adolescence of low self-esteem and feelings of hopeless inadequacy? Is success, in all its able-bodied notions, ever truly achievable with a chronic illness?

Over the past year, these questions have plagued my conscience. With each sick day my body demands, I cannot help myself from falling deeper into the pits of imposter syndrome, of frustration and self-depreciation. The weight of an uncertain future would crash down on me, as I lie in bed cuddled up to my hot water bottle and cat. I convinced myself that the glaring sense of impending doom that engulfed me was the true face of failure – but really, my perception of failure had been warped all along.

Perhaps to truly succeed is not to consistently over-achieve and triumph without consequence, but to flourish and nurture all aspects of your life. To continue to grow and challenge yourself, but at your own pace, and in competition with no one but yourself. Societal comprehensions of productivity and achievement are deeply rooted in able-bodied normativity. It demands consistency and a persistent upward trajectory, which, when you have a chronic illness, is scarcely attainable.

Chronic pain does not acknowledge deadlines, nor sheer willpower – it does not compromise, or wait to rear its head at a more convenient time. One cannot be expected to achieve without fluctuation when the body refuses to function at a consistently manageable level.

Perhaps, when you are chronically ill, burnout is less a reflection of your ‘failures’ to perform consistently and without consequences, but rather a reminder of societal flaws when it comes to acknowledging that able-bodiedness is not definitive and accessible to everyone.

From childhood, far too much pressure is placed on success as a linear concept, which leads to rest and recovery being viewed as lesser and a ‘waste’ of valuable time. In reality, a coexistence of work and rest is essential for both disabled and able-bodied folks, and the continued emphasis on work being the only important factor leads to strenuous levels of burnout which are currently prevalent across society.

Until conversations about healthy work-life balances are normalised, people will continue to suffer under the burden of feeling that they are ‘behind’ in life – particularly those with chronic conditions.