Pain is lonely. You’re sitting in a doctor’s office, trying to explain that "sharp-but-dull" sensation in your lower back, and they’re looking at a chart. They see numbers. They see "L4-L5" or "inflammation markers." But they don't see the way the light in the room makes your head throb or how that specific pinch in your hip feels like a hot wire. It’s a literal biological fact: no one else can feel it for you, and that creates a massive gap in how we treat human suffering.
We live in an age of data. We have smartwatches that track our heart rate variability and blood oxygen. We have MRIs that can slice our anatomy into digital bread loaves. Yet, for all this tech, the subjective experience of being alive—the "qualia" of pain—remains locked inside your own skull.
The science of subjective experience
Neurologists talk about nociception. That’s the physical process of your nerves sending "danger" signals to the brain. But pain? Pain is what happens when the brain decides those signals matter. It’s filtered through your past experiences, your current stress levels, and even your genetics.
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Research published in The Journal of Neuroscience has shown that two people can have the exact same physical injury but report vastly different pain levels. Why? Because the brain’s "descending modulatory system" can either crank the volume up or mute it. You're the only one with the remote. If you’re anxious, the brain interprets signals more aggressively. If you’re focused or happy, it might ignore them. This is why a professional athlete might play through a broken rib while a sedentary office worker is sidelined by a muscle spasm. It isn't just "toughness." It's biology.
The reality that no one else can feel it for you isn't just a philosophical bummer; it’s a clinical hurdle.
Why doctors struggle with what they can't see
Misdiagnosis is often a byproduct of this sensory isolation. When a patient says they are in pain but the labs come back "normal," a dangerous friction occurs. This is particularly rampant in conditions like fibromyalgia or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (ME/CFS). For decades, these were dismissed as "psychosomatic" simply because there wasn't a blood test for them.
Basically, if the doctor couldn't feel it (via their instruments), it didn't exist.
We’ve seen this play out in the gender pain gap. Studies, including notable work from the Academic Emergency Medicine journal, have shown that women wait longer for pain medication in ERs and are more likely to be told their pain is emotional. Because no one else can feel it for you, the person in the white coat has to rely on your "testimony." If they don't trust the witness, the "crime" of the injury goes unpunished.
The "Pain Scale" is a lie (mostly)
You know the chart. The one with the yellow and red smiley-to-frowning faces. Rate your pain from 1 to 10.
It’s kind of a joke.
Your "6" might be another person’s "4" or a third person’s "9." It depends on what you’ve been through. A person who has experienced natural childbirth or passed a kidney stone has a different "10" than someone who has never broken a bone. The scale assumes there is a universal standard for discomfort. There isn't. There is only your standard.
Empathy has physical limits
We talk a lot about empathy. We say, "I feel your pain."
No, you don't.
Mirror neurons exist, sure. When you see someone stub their toe, your brain’s somatosensory cortex might fire a little. You might flinch. But you aren't feeling the actual throb. You are feeling a simulation of it. This creates a "compassion fatigue" in caregivers and partners. After a few months of living with someone in chronic pain, the healthy partner often loses the ability to simulate that distress. They get used to it. They see the person limping and it becomes background noise.
This isolation is why chronic pain is so closely linked to depression. It’s the loneliness of the "unshared sensation." You are trapped in a body that is screaming, and the world around you is silent.
Trusting your own hardware
If no one else can feel it for you, then you have to be the primary authority on your own body. This sounds obvious, but "gaslighting" in medical settings is real. People start to wonder if they’re making it up. They wonder if they’re "weak."
They aren't.
Modern pain science, spearheaded by experts like Lorimer Moseley and David Butler, suggests that understanding pain—knowing that it’s a protective output of the brain rather than just "tissue damage"—can actually change the sensation. This is the basis of Pain Neurophysiology Education (PNE). When you realize that your brain is overprotecting you, you can start to "re-train" the system. But that training starts with acknowledging that your feeling is valid, even if it's invisible to everyone else.
The trap of "Comparisonitis"
We do this thing where we compare our suffering.
"My back hurts, but at least I don't have cancer."
"I'm tired, but my friend has a newborn, so I shouldn't complain."
Stop it.
The fact that no one else can feel it for you means your pain doesn't need to be "worse" than someone else's to be significant. It is its own closed loop. Comparing your internal state to someone else’s external behavior is like comparing the temperature of a furnace to the color of a wall. They aren't in the same category.
Practical ways to bridge the gap
Since no one can hop into your nervous system, you have to improve the "export" of your data.
- Use sensory metaphors. Instead of saying "it hurts," use "it feels like burning oil" or "it's a dull pressure like a heavy sandbag." Specificity helps the observer simulate it better.
- Track the "why" not just the "what." Use a journal to find patterns. Does the pain spike when you’re stressed? After eating certain foods? When the weather shifts? This turns your subjective feeling into objective data points.
- Find a "Pain Ally." This is a doctor or therapist who starts from a place of belief. If a provider makes you feel like you have to "prove" your discomfort, leave.
- Acknowledge the emotional tax. Recognize that the effort of carrying a feeling no one else can see is exhausting. It's okay to be tired from just feeling.
Actionable insights for the path forward
If you are dealing with a sensation—physical or emotional—that feels isolating, remember that your brain is a biological processor. It is doing its job, even if that job is making you miserable. You cannot force someone to feel what you feel, but you can change how you relate to that feeling.
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- Stop seeking external validation for internal states. If you feel it, it is real. Period.
- Learn the "Biopsychosocial" model. Read up on how sleep, social support, and diet affect pain signals. It’s never just about the spot that hurts.
- Practice "Desensitization." For chronic issues, gentle movement and mindfulness can slowly teach the brain that the "danger" signals aren't needed.
- Communicate boundaries clearly. Since people can't feel your fatigue or pain, you have to tell them your "battery percentage" out loud. Don't expect them to guess.
The isolation of the human experience is a double-edged sword. It means our deepest agonies are ours alone, but it also means our deepest joys are equally private and protected. Your experience belongs to you. Own the data, advocate for the treatment you need, and stop waiting for someone else to "get it" before you take your own discomfort seriously.