August 21, 2026 | by Tess
Eight years ago, I walked into the Cleveland Clinic Pain Rehabilitation Program hoping to find a way out of my pain.
Today, I still have the same headache.
But my life looks completely different.
In 2017, I was a competitive tennis player. After one tournament, I developed what I thought was a sinus infection. The infection went away, but the headache didn't. I was eventually diagnosed with New Daily Persistent Headache (NDPH), and suddenly, pain became a part of my everyday life.
The first year was filled with medications, doctors, and uncertainty. I tried countless treatments, hoping the next one would finally make the headache disappear. Instead, many came with difficult side effects, and I became increasingly frustrated.
Then I went to Cleveland Clinic, hoping to get rid of my pain. Instead, I learned how to move forward alongside it.
The program taught me techniques like deep breathing, meditation, visualization, guided imagery, and exercise. More importantly, I learned to focus on what I could control. I learned that I didn't have to wait for my pain to disappear before I could start living my life again.
That lesson took time to believe.
The hardest part was persistence. The changes were often so small that I questioned whether they were making a difference at all. But I kept going. I built routines. I practiced the skills I learned. Slowly, those small changes began to add up.
I also found a community. I met people who understood what it was like to live with invisible pain, and some of them became lifelong friends. For the first time, I felt less alone in my experience.
Eight years later, I still use the tools I learned at Cleveland Clinic.
I brought them with me to UC Berkeley, where I studied neuroscience. I practiced deep breathing before stressful exams. I used meditation and visualization when I felt overwhelmed. I exercised, maintained routines, and learned to come back to the things I could control.
In fact, my experience with chronic pain is what first sparked my fascination with the brain. I wanted to understand how something so complex could shape our experiences of pain, stress, and resilience. That curiosity ultimately shaped my academic path and my desire to pursue medicine.
It also inspired me to create Stronger Than Pain. I wanted to share the tools that had helped me with others living with invisible pain. Through this platform, I've written about my experiences, shared resources, and created strategies to help people regain function and reclaim parts of their lives. Writing and journaling have also been important parts of my own journey.
Looking back, the greatest thing I gained from pain rehabilitation wasn't a cure.
It was my sense of agency.
For a long time, I felt like my headache controlled my life. I thought I had to wait for the pain to go away before I could truly move forward.
I don't believe that anymore. My pain is still here. I still have difficult days and flare-ups. But it no longer gets to decide what my life will look like.
I recently graduated from UC Berkeley, and I'm now applying to medical school. When I look back at the person who first walked into Cleveland Clinic eight years ago, I wish I could tell her that the life she wanted was still possible.
Not because her pain would disappear.
But because her life could become bigger than her pain.
That is what I hope to share through Stronger Than Pain: progress doesn't always mean becoming pain-free. Sometimes, progress means reclaiming your independence. It means building a routine, focusing on what you can control, and continuing to believe in yourself even when change feels impossibly slow.
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