Pain, Acceptance, and EMDR Therapy: My Achilles Rupture Story
This past weekend, during our 37th annual family volleyball tournament, I tore my Achilles tendon. One moment I was moving toward the ball — it was going to be a fabulous backwards bump — and the next I heard a “pop!” and it felt like someone had kicked me hard from behind breaking my leg into pieces. I knew immediately I couldn’t weight bear (crazy how my body knew before I cognitively did) and I said, “I’m out.” To those around me, nothing looked dangerous or injury-causing, but they could see the pain on my face. Within 12 hours, and after a long night in an emergency waiting room, I was in a cast and suddenly confronted with the reality of weeks of immobility, pain, and lifestyle changes I hadn’t anticipated.
I’ve been spending time in social media group rooms where others with Achilles ruptures share their experiences. Again and again, I see people writing about the mental challenges of immobilization: not being able to walk, needing to elevate the leg for weeks, and facing the monotony of a suddenly sedentary life. The pain is one thing — but the disruption to identity, mobility, and independence often weighs heavier.
I tend to approach these moments with a mindset of acceptance: “I have an injury.” That’s my starting point. From there, I begin to think ahead: What do I need to make this work? (Yes, I was on Amazon within hours ordering everything I could to make resting and working easier in this new, non-weight-bearing world.) But acceptance doesn’t make the experience pain-free — physically or mentally.
The Neuroscience of Pain
Pain is not just a physical sensation. Neuroscience shows us that pain is constructed in the brain — influenced by sensory input, memory, meaning, and context. The brain interprets signals from the body and makes predictions about threat, safety, and recovery. This is why two people with the same injury may have very different pain experiences.
When we’re immobilized, like after an Achilles rupture, the nervous system can amplify pain because we feel helpless, trapped, or anxious about the future. Immobility also strips away the natural regulation we usually get through movement, rhythm, and daily routine.
EMDR Therapy and Pain
Research by clinicians like Mark Grant and Gary Brothers has explored how EMDR therapy can be adapted to work with chronic and acute pain. Their work shows that bilateral stimulation (BLS) can reduce pain perception, shift pain-related beliefs, and calm the nervous system.
Mark Grant has emphasized the role of EMDR in desensitizing pain-related memories and associations, helping clients uncouple the experience of pain from distress.
Gary Brothers has highlighted the importance of integrating EMDR with an understanding of pain neuroscience, showing how BLS can interrupt pain loops in the brain.
In practice, this means EMDR can be used not just for trauma, but for the emotional and neurological experience of pain itself.
My Acute Pain Experience
With this Achilles rupture, I’ve noticed how EMDR principles help me manage the acute phase of pain:
Dual attention: Right after that pop and the wave of crazy intense pain (so strong I was fighting to stay conscious), I was surrounded by family and friends who immediately stepped in to take care of me. I focused on my breathing, trying to slow it down and take deeper breaths. I fixed my eyes on a single point in front of me while also feeling my daughter’s hand holding mine. That combination of rhythm, visual anchor, and connection helped me stay as present as possible in the midst of shock. And, for the record — my team still won the game!
Bilateral stimulation: Even now, simple self-applied tapping gives me something rhythmic to focus on during spikes of pain. It’s a small way to signal to my nervous system: you’re safe, you’re here.
Shifting meaning: I’m usually always in motion, so staying still on the couch with my leg elevated feels very foreign — not “me.” I’ve been reframing that thought to “My body deserves to rest.” For three days after the injury, I gave myself full permission to do just that — to sit, to be still, to let my system recalibrate. And then, I started to adapt — setting up my environment, finding new rhythms, and (of course) writing this blog.
Enjoyment: The next day, I also leaned into focusing on things I enjoy as another way to steady myself. We watched one of my favourite movies, Mary Poppins, and I was surrounded by people who brought me reading options and treats. These simple comforts reminded me that even when my body is hurting, I can still access joy, connection, and pleasure.
These small shifts matter. They keep the pain experience and reality of the upcoming weeks from escalating into suffering.
The Mental Challenge of Recovery
The hardest part isn’t just the discomfort. It’s the loss of movement and independence. Not being able to walk for 4–6 weeks is a shock to the system. Daily routines — from carrying a coffee across the room to taking the dog for a walk — suddenly require creativity, help, or patience.
This is where I see EMDR therapy offering hope. By working with the nervous system directly, we can reduce the emotional weight of immobility, reframe distressing beliefs (“I can’t do anything” → “I can find ways to adapt”), and stay connected to resilience during recovery.
Moving Forward
These small shifts matter. They keep the pain experience from escalating into suffering. And for me, the next step is managing stress. Stress impacts both pain and healing — increasing tension, amplifying nervous system reactivity, and slowing recovery. Managing stress will be very important in the coming weeks.
The next few days I’ll be occupied teaching EMDR Basic Training Part 1 to a new cohort. My admin team has already set up the office so I can teach with my leg elevated and crutches close at hand. Next week, I’ll be teaching about pain in an EMDR Basic Training Part 2 with another group — and this time, the topic will take on new meaning for me.
I don’t know yet how long this journey will be. What I do know is that acceptance, preparation, and nervous system support are key. Pain is inevitable — but suffering doesn’t have to be.
As I continue to recover, I’ll keep weaving together my lived experience, the neuroscience of pain, and the clinical practice of EMDR therapy — not just for myself, but for the therapists and clients I have the privilege of working with.
For now, I’ll leave you with this thought: pain is not just in the body — it’s in the brain. And when we work with the brain, we can change the way we experience pain.