
One day, you bend down to pick up a sock—and your back goes out.
You’re in agony. You miss work. You can’t sit, can’t sleep, can barely explain it.
A doctor orders imaging. You hear vague language about a bulging disc or “degeneration.” Maybe you get a shot. Or pills. You’re told to rest. Or to exercise. Or both. You’re confused, still in pain.
Weeks become months. The sock becomes a turning point. Your life now has a before and after.
Back pain is the number one reason Americans see a doctor. It’s the leading cause of disability. It costs the U.S. economy over a trillion dollars a year.
And yet, what causes it so often seems... stupid.
A sneeze. A twisted sheet. A minor fall. Nothing that should be capable of destroying a life.
But the destruction is real.
In 1996, Purdue Pharma released OxyContin—a so-called non-addictive solution to chronic pain. It was an easy sell. Americans were hurting, and no one could explain why.
What followed is well known: overprescribing, addiction, corruption, and death. Entire towns were gutted. More than a quarter million Americans have now died from prescription opioid overdoses. And fentanyl is finishing the job, killing another 70,000 a year.
We talk about addiction. We talk about greed. But we rarely talk about the pain that started it all.
Most people don’t start opioids recreationally. They start because of back pain. And they stay on them because no one can offer a credible explanation for why they still hurt.
The U.S. didn’t just have a drug epidemic. It had a pain epidemic.
And it still does.
Ask the average person what causes back pain, and they’ll name a physical defect:
A slipped disc. A pinched nerve. Bad posture. A weak core.
But those theories don’t hold up. Study after study shows that people with severe pain often have “normal” imaging—and people with scary scans often feel fine.
By age 60, most adults have disc bulges and never know it. These findings are so common, they're called the “grey hairs” of the spine: a normal part of aging.
Yet we continue to treat back pain like a mechanical failure—something to stretch, strengthen, inject, or cut.
Billions are spent chasing pain as a physical problem. But what if the real driver isn’t in the spine at all?
In 2017, I became one of those people. A gym injury turned into chronic pain. I couldn’t sit. I couldn’t sleep. An MRI showed disc herniations. A steroid injection numbed my foot but didn’t help the pain.
Like many others, I spiraled. Physio. Adjustments. Nothing worked—until I discovered the mind-body connection.
The science of pain has evolved. We now know pain isn’t a direct readout of damage. It’s a protective output of the brain—shaped by emotion, memory, fear, and context.
Pain is real. But it’s also subjective. It’s influenced by stress. By trauma. By perfectionism, people-pleasing, or repressed emotion.
When I began exploring those connections—not instead of medical care, but alongside it—my pain receded.
Within weeks, I was back at the gym.
We’re a nation brought to its knees by laundry. That sounds flippant—but it’s a metaphor worth sitting with.
When your back “goes out” while picking up a sock, it’s not just about the sock.
It’s everything you were already carrying.
The pressure. The guilt. The disappointment. The rage you can’t express. The grief you never named.
We train ourselves to ignore those feelings. We soldier on. We cope. And when the pressure gets too high, it doesn’t always come out as a scream or a breakdown.
Sometimes, it comes out as pain.
Pain that makes you sit still. Pain that quiets the noise. Pain that protects you from feelings too threatening to face.
This doesn’t make the pain imaginary. It makes it human.
We need a new approach to chronic pain—one that integrates the mind and body, and doesn’t reduce people to scans or symptoms.
We need better training for doctors. Better tools for patients. And a public health narrative that reflects what we now know about the brain, the nervous system, and the hidden burdens of modern life.
Because until we do, socks will keep taking people down.
And the pipeline from pain to pills to tragedy will stay wide open.
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For decades, patients with back pain have been told the same story: your spine is damaged, your muscles are weak, your body is broken. Surgery, injections, endless physical therapy — yet the epidemic only grows. But a small group of doctors and researchers dared to say: What if the problem isn’t in the back at all?

Researchers at Johns Hopkins discovered that once the brain learns to associate certain sensations with danger, it can keep generating pain even after the injury is gone. The good news: the brain can unlearn it too.

In a landmark study from the University of Colorado, two-thirds of chronic back-pain patients became pain-free after a brain-based program—no surgery, no medication. The treatment worked not by fixing the spine, but by retraining the brain.
You’ve fought hard and tried it all, but the burden was never yours to carry forever. Your brain is ready to reset, your body to feel safe again. Pain is not who you are - it’s time to reclaim your life.