painsomnia Archives

Painsomnia: a form of insomnia caused by chronic pain, where exhaustion meets a body that refuses to rest

What Painsomnia Feels LIKe at Night

3:17 glows from my bedside clock, mocking me in the darkness. It’s a time I’ve come to know intimately, not because I’ve been out living, but because painsomnia, that insomnia caused by chronic pain, keeps me awake when the rest of the world sleeps. I lie in bed, the stillness and quiet around me, yet inside my body, everything feels loud; every ache, every pulse, impossible to ignore. It’s a contradiction I live with nightly; a body desperate for rest, yet unable to find it because of pain, and so I find myself here again, in painsomnia.

"A body desperate for rest, yet unable to find it because of pain." #Painsomnia Share on X

Illustrated graphic on a dark blue background with yellow text reading, “What is Painsomnia?” White text explains that painsomnia is a form of insomnia caused by chronic physical pain, where exhaustion meets a body that refuses to rest. Below, a person lies awake in bed looking distressed beside a digital clock showing 01:30 PM. Decorative stars and doodles surround the scene, and the handle “@serenebutterfly” appears at the bottom.

When The World Goes Quiet, My Body Doesn’t

As the night deepens, everything around me grows quieter, and that quiet only seems to amplify what I feel, which is often the hardest part of painsomnia. I don’t know if the pain actually worsens, but it always feels like it does at night. During the day, I can almost pretend I’m fine, my pain blending into the background of everything else.

"The rest of the world sleeps, and I lie awake negotiating with my own body." #Painsomnia Share on X

Because during daylight, there is always something to do: errands to run, emails to answer, dishes to wash. Conversations fill the gaps. There are places to be, books to read, and television to switch on and lose myself in. Distractions are everywhere, and for a while, they soften the edges of what I feel. But at night, when all of that falls away, there’s nothing left to buffer it.

"Distractions are everywhere, and for a while, they soften the edges of what I feel. But at night, when all of that falls away, there’s nothing left to buffer it." Share on X

Illustration on a dark blue background of a person sitting wrapped tightly in a pink blanket. Above them, the time reads “3:17 AM” and a battery icon says “LOW.” White text below reads, “The rest of the world sleeps, and I lie awake negotiating with my own body.”

There’s no background noise from the world beyond my window, no text messages arriving, no sound beyond my bedroom at all. There is only silence, and in that silence, my pain expands, growing louder. I can almost feel it stretching itself out, claiming space, demanding my full attention. Without anything to distract me, even the smallest ache becomes impossible to ignore.

Time Moves Differently When You Can’t Sleep

I glance back at the clock, watching the minutes change slowly. Time stretches in a way it never does during the day. That is the strange rhythm of painsomnia. Each minute slowly drags itself forward while I lie there, fully aware of every second I’m still awake. Ten minutes feels like an hour. An hour feels like a small lifetime. I close my eyes, turn onto my side, adjust the pillows once more, hoping this time I might actually find sleep. For a moment, it almost feels possible. But then it slips away again. A dull ache creeps back in, then sharpens, pulling me back into full awareness of my body. I start over again: shifting, adjusting, trying to outmanoeuvre pain that refuses to yield.

"Ten minutes feels like an hour. An hour feels like a small lifetime." #Painsomnia Share on X

Graphic on a dark blue background with white handwritten text reading, “Ten minutes feels like an hour. An hour feels like a small lifetime.” On the right side, a large partial illustration of an alarm clock emphasizes the slow passage of time during sleeplessness.

The Loneliness of Painsomnia

It’s in these quiet moments that I feel the loneliness of painsomnia begin to settle in. The rest of the world is asleep, and instead, I lie wide awake, feeling like the only one still up. The house is still, peaceful, and as I lie, I become aware of every small sound; the faint creak of the pipes, the rain tapping on my bedroom window. They’re the only signs of life, the only company I have. I feel a strange kind of isolation, exhausted yet awake, alone in a body that refuses to settle.

"I feel a strange kind of isolation, exhausted yet awake, alone in a body that refuses to settle." Share on X

It makes me more aware of everything. I find myself listening for any kind of sound, just to remind myself that the world is still there beyond my room.

Illustration on a dark blue background with white text reading, “I feel a strange kind of isolation, exhausted yet awake, alone in a body that refuses to settle.” Below the quote is the handle “@serenebutterfly.” The image shows a person sitting with their head resting on their hand, appearing tired and withdrawn, emphasizing loneliness and sleeplessness.

I look for anything to take my mind elsewhere

Sometimes, I reach for my phone, one of the small distractions I use when pain and painsomnia keep sleep out of reach. I fall into the familiar habit of doomscrolling, letting one thing blur into the next just to pass the time, to fill the deafening silence. I try watching something, anything quiet enough not to disturb anyone else in the house, the brightness turned down, the volume barely there. It never seems to help, not in any lasting way, but it gives my mind somewhere else to go for a little while; something other than the pain that won’t leave me alone.

There’s only so much I can do

Eventually, even that stops working. In frustration, I start the cycle again: shifting, adjusting, trying to find a position that hurts less. By this point, painsomnia has usually been with me for hours, and I’ve usually taken as much pain medication as I can safely take. I know how long I need to wait before I can take anything else, and I find myself weighing up whether it’s worth taking it now or saving it for later, in case the pain worsens. But even then, I’m not sure it will make a difference.

Illustration of an orange pill bottle tipped over with pink tablets spilling out onto a light beige background. Brown text below reads, “Pain medication doesn’t switch it off. It just lowers the volume.” The handle “@serenebutterfly” appears underneath.

Even then, my pain medication isn’t a magical switch that shuts the pain off. In my life, medication merely lowers the volume. It often turns a scream into a moan. Sometimes, it takes the edge off, but often it doesn’t. There’s no real way of knowing, and that uncertainty becomes part of the night too; another thing to sit with, another thing to wait out.

The night doesn’t end when the day begins

Eventually, I run out of things to try. I have nothing left but to lie there and wait it out. Sleep feels out of reach, something I can’t quite get to, no matter how tired I am. Instead, the night stretches ahead of me, not as a time for sleep, but as something to endure: hour by hour, minute by minute.

"The night stretches ahead of me, not as a time for sleep, but as something to endure: hour by hour, minute by minute." #Painsomnia Share on X

How Painsomnia Follows Me into the Day

Yet the exhaustion doesn’t just disappear with the appearance of daylight. It lingers, settling into every facet of my day. It settles into conversations, into small tasks, into movements that should feel simple, but instead feel heavy and cumbersome. Morning arrives whether I’ve slept or not, and painsomnia leaves its mark either way. And my routine starts all over again. I wake up. Then I take my medication. I prepare myself for the day ahead and finish the morning chores. Still, the exhaustion from the night lingers. I carry the weight of it through the rest of the day. That weight goes beyond ordinary tiredness.

Illustration of a person lying exhausted on a couch, one arm over their forehead, suggesting fatigue and discomfort. A pair of shoes sits on the floor nearby. On a dark blue background, white text reads, “Painsomnia is more than sleeplessness. It follows you into the day.”

"Painsomnia is more than sleeplessness. It follows you into the day." Share on X

This is what painsomnia really is. It’s not just a bad night’s sleep or the occasional restless evening. It’s a relentless cycle: night after night of trying, adjusting, waiting, enduring, followed by days spent carrying its aftermath. Much of it happens behind closed doors, in the quiet hours when the rest of the world is asleep, unnoticed and often unspoken. Living with painsomnia means repeating this cycle night after night. And I know that when night comes again, I’ll be back there. If you’re there too, you’re not the only one still awake.

Illustration of a person sitting hunched forward at night under a dark, starry sky, appearing tired and in discomfort. White text above reads, “If you’re awake in pain tonight, you’re not the only one still awake,” conveying a message of shared experience and reassurance.

"If you’re awake in pain tonight, you’re not the only one still awake." #Painsomnia Share on X "When night comes again, I know I’ll be back there." #Painsomnia Share on X

Graphic showing a person sitting up in bed at night with their head in their hands, appearing distressed and unable to sleep. Below the image, text reads, “Painsomnia: What it’s like lying awake with chronic pain,” followed by “brainlesionandme.com

Purple-toned promotional image of a person sitting on the edge of a bed at night, knees drawn up, suggesting discomfort and sleeplessness. Overlaid text reads “Painsomnia” and “What’s it like lying awake with chronic pain,” with “brainlesionandme.com” at the bottom

I have usually talked about my experience of living with chronic pain in passing. However, I thought I would shed some light on what it is like living with chronic pain from my own experience. And from my own experience living with chronic pain is very much like attempting to survive a storm.

The Storm that is Chronic Pain

Living with chronic pain is like attempting to function through a torrential storm. A mighty and ferocious storm that wreaks havoc and destroys everything in its sight.

The excruciating pain is limited to the upper and lower limbs. However, the pain in the legs is often much worse. The suffering is unimaginable; a crushing sensation, as if caught in a vice which is only getting tighter and tighter. Every step hurts, each step bringing stinging tears to the eyes.

black-and-white-person-woman-girl — Like a storm, living with chronic pain can be all-consuming and relentless.

At other times, the pain feels like an extremely unpleasant cold sensation radiating throughout my entire legs; the cold that seeps down right into the bone, feeling frozen and if will snap in half.

It is crippling and unrelenting causing a giant red stop sign to appear in my track; unable to do anything else but think about and feel the intense, uncomfortable pain. Distractions, anything to divert the pain away from the thoughts inside the brain, but nothing works.

Pain consumes everything; a storm that is so powerful and savage, rough waves pulling at the body, dragging you under, overwhelming you. And living with constant pain feels like that, it drags you under to the depths of despair. It is all-consuming and relentless.

Living with chronic pain is all-consuming and relentless. Share on X

Living with constant pain is exhausting.

If fatigue weren’t already a side-effect of living with a neurological condition, then the pain would be the cause. Dealing with pain every day is draining. The nights laying there all alone with nothing but the pain for companionship is mentally exhausting. The lack of sleep and fatigue accompanies the pain, following you around after the exhaustive, restless nights. In the chronic illness community, we have a word for this – painsomnia.

The Unimaginable Suffering of Pain

Often, as the lack of sleep overwhelms everything else, a nap becomes necessary. But no matter how much sleep we, it is never enough. Sleep never eradicates fatigue. A vicious cycle of sleeping during the day and not being able to sleep at night, seemingly impossible to break.

jay-wennington-2250 — Painsomnia can last all night and one in which you will try anything to distract you from the pain which usually consists of social media and Netflix

Each morning promises to be a clean slate, a new beginning of hope and promise, but for those like me battling chronic pain, each new morning starts instead with the shock of crippling and debilitating pain.

It is a constant companion, one who dictates how our day will go and what we can do with our day. We speculate when the next ‘storm’ will impact, although very often these waves continuously crash. Pain pulls us under; our body slammed from every side by the rough waters.

Pain is a constant companion, one who dictates how our day will go and what we can do with our day. Share on X

The emotional side effects of living with chronic pain can be just as soul-destroying as dealing with the physical aspects of our conditions.

The Loneliness of Living With Constant Physical Pain

Pain can make us feel incredibly lonely.

Pain is invisible, and as such nobody ever knows just how much pain we are in, there is an expectation to participate in society even when consumed with pain. We don’t want to say no or cancel plans, but it often feels if we are being held hostage by pain, forced to stay at home trying not to be sucked under.

Chronic pain and chronic illness shrink your world until you spend your days staring at the same four walls, like Rapunzel trapped inside her ivory tower.

bed-black-and-white-girl-window-favim-com-178300-8288 — Due to constant and debilitating pain, a lot of time is usually spent alone

Lonely as we struggle with the painsomnia; lying awake in bed, the pain draining our ability to sleep, alone with only the pain and our thoughts (usually about the pain) for company. We can be in the company of others, a roomful of people and still feel alone; the pain louder than any conversations happening in the same room.

There are times when the pain wins; days when worn down by the pain that consumes us. Days when we don’t do anything besides lie and think about the pain, feeling defined merely by the pain. Pain has a way of making you feel stranded in the middle of nowhere with no roadmap or compass to help you find your way.

There are times when the pain wins; days when we are worn down by the pain. Days when we don't do anything besides lie and think about the pain, feeling defined merely by the pain. Share on X

The Storms of Chronic Pain Cannot Be Stopped; Only Weathered

Many of us are never without pain, but regardless most days we soldier on despite the pain; we push through the intense discomfort. Despite the constant affliction of pain, we continue to hope for better tomorrows. We cling hard to a raft during the torrential storms until it passes and sunshine and rainbows appear overheard once again.

pexels-photo-464344 — The storm of living with chronic pain cannot be stopped; one that can only be weathered. The only way to try and survive such storms is to use pain management techniques and try to still see the beauty in life.

The storm of living with chronic pain can’t be stopped; it is one that can only be weathered. The only thing to do when the storm hits is to seek shelter, prevent damage, survive and stay as comfortable as possible while the storm is raging. We embrace self-management techniques; tools that we have built up over time into our very own ‘toolbox’ of strategies that help us manage our chronic pain – those which include pacing, relaxation skills, and diet and exercise.

The storm of living with chronic pain cannot be stopped, it is a storm that can only be weathered. Share on X

And eventually, the storm subsides, and we breathe a big sigh of relief that it’s over, while also waiting with bated breath for the next storm to arrive.