Mental health and movement are deeply intertwined — but not always in the way we expect.
You’ve probably seen the headlines: Exercise reduces depression! Movement is medicine! Just go for a walk — you’ll feel better! And while there’s truth in those statements, the reality for many of us is much more complex.
I’ve lived with chronic pain since I was 12 years old. Headaches. Back pain. A body that didn’t behave like it “should” have. I was the kid who had to sit out of gym class, the teen who quietly left social events early because my body hurt too much to stay. On top of that pain came a fog of depression that’s lingered ever since — a heavy shadow that followed me into adulthood.
So when people say, “Exercise is a great way to manage your mental health,” I nod… but also take a deep breath. Because yes, movement does help — but it’s not a magic fix. And for those of us navigating the double whammy of chronic pain and depression, getting moving in the first place can feel like climbing a mountain barefoot.
The Science Behind Movement and Mood
Let’s start with what we know.
According to the World Health Organization, over 280 million people worldwide live with depression. In the U.S., the CDC reports that nearly 1 in 5 adults experience some form of mental illness each year.
Now here’s where movement comes in: research shows that regular physical activity can reduce symptoms of depression and anxiety by 20-30%, and in some cases, exercise can be as effective as medication or therapy for mild to moderate depression. It boosts endorphins, reduces stress hormones, improves sleep, and offers a sense of accomplishment — even if that “accomplishment” is just getting out of bed and doing a 5-minute stretch.
For people living with chronic pain, the stakes are even higher. About 85% of individuals with chronic pain also experience depression, and the relationship between the two is cyclical: pain increases depression, and depression increases the perception of pain. It’s not “all in your head” — it’s all connected.
But What If Exercise Hurts?
Here’s the part that often gets left out: when your body hurts, moving more can feel impossible.
That’s something I’ve faced for most of my life. The gym wasn’t a sanctuary — it was a battleground. I wasn’t just fighting against the voice in my head that said, “Why bother?” I was also fighting my own body — one that didn’t seem to want to cooperate.
I had to learn how to move differently. Not harder. Not longer. Just differently.
That meant letting go of all-or-nothing thinking. Some days, “exercise” meant a short walk around the block. Other days, it was lifting weights in a way that didn’t aggravate my joints. Some days, it was just showing up and breathing through a few gentle mobility moves.
And guess what? That counts.
Not just physically — but emotionally. Every time I honored my body instead of pushing through pain, I built a little more trust with myself. Every time I moved with compassion instead of punishment, I chipped away at the shame that had grown around my body and my brain.
Exercise Isn’t a Cure — But It Can Be a Lifeline
It’s important to be honest here: movement hasn’t “cured” my depression or my chronic pain. I still have hard days. I still get lost in the fog sometimes.
But movement has helped me come home to myself. It’s given me a place to feel capable, connected, and — sometimes — even joyful. It doesn’t solve everything, but it gives me tools to cope. To process. To show up.
And that’s what I try to share with my clients at BadAsh Athletics. We don’t move to punish ourselves into a smaller shape. We don’t grind through workouts just to say we did. We move to feel better — even if that just means reducing pain from a 7 to a 5. We move to build strength, physically and emotionally. We move to rewrite the story our bodies have been telling us for years: you’re broken. You’re too much. You’re not enough.
None of that is true. You’re already enough.
You’re Not Alone
If you’re living with chronic pain and depression, I see you. I am you. And if the idea of starting a fitness routine feels overwhelming or out of reach, I want you to know: there is a path forward. It’s not perfect. It’s not linear. But it is possible.
Start where you are. Rest when you need. And remember that even the smallest movement — physical or emotional — is still movement.
You deserve to feel better in your body, without shame. And when you’re ready, I’ll be right here, cheering you on.
