Why Does Chronic Pain Make You Feel Anxious Even When You're Not in Danger?
You are sitting on the couch.
Nothing is happening.
You are safe.
And then you notice it.
A sensation.
A familiar ache.
A pull.
A cramp.
A pressure.
Something in your body changes and, almost immediately, so does everything else.
Your attention moves toward it.
Your chest tightens.
Your thoughts speed up.
You start wondering:
Is this getting worse?
Is another flare starting?
Will I be able to work tomorrow?
What if I can't sleep tonight?
What if this means something is wrong again?
And suddenly you aren't just experiencing pain.
You are experiencing fear of pain.
If you live with persistent or chronic pain, this can be incredibly confusing.
You may think:
“Why am I anxious? Nothing dangerous is happening.”
But from the perspective of a nervous system that has repeatedly experienced pain, something potentially important is happening.
Your body has detected a signal associated with previous threat.
And it has learned to pay attention.
This doesn't mean your anxiety causes your pain.
It doesn't mean your pain is psychological.
And it certainly doesn't mean you should simply “calm down.”
It means that pain and anxiety both involve systems designed, in part, to help us anticipate and respond to possible danger.
When pain has occurred repeatedly, unpredictably or intensely, those systems can become deeply connected.
And understanding that connection can be the beginning of changing your relationship with both.
Why does chronic pain cause anxiety?
The simplest answer is: Pain is inherently threatening.
Pain tells us something may require our attention.
If you touch a hot stove, pain motivates you to pull your hand away.
If you injure your ankle, pain may encourage you to protect it.
This protective function is incredibly important.
But persistent pain creates a different problem.
Instead of responding to one isolated painful event, your system may have encountered pain:
again.
And again.
And again.
Perhaps for months.
Perhaps for years.
And when the painful experience becomes unpredictable, severe or disruptive enough, your brain begins doing what brains are extraordinarily good at doing: predicting.
It starts looking for clues.
When did the pain begin last time?
What sensation came first?
What movement triggered it?
What day of your cycle are you on?
Did that slight cramp mean anything?
Can you risk exercising today?
What if sex hurts again?
Can you make plans this weekend?
The anxiety isn't necessarily irrational in the sense of appearing from nowhere.
Your system has history.
It has evidence that pain has happened before.
It is trying to prevent you from being caught unprepared again.
Why do I feel anxious before the pain even starts?
Because your brain does not only respond to what is happening now.
It constantly anticipates what may happen next.
That ability is part of how we survive.
If every experience had to become dangerous before we reacted to it, protection would be terribly inefficient.
So we learn associations.
If one sensation has repeatedly preceded severe pain, eventually the early sensation itself may begin to attract attention.
If a certain movement has repeatedly hurt, you may tense before doing it.
If your menstrual cycle has repeatedly brought debilitating pain, you may notice your anxiety rising as that part of the month approaches.
If intimacy has repeatedly been painful, your body may begin bracing before sexual contact occurs.
If you once had a terrifying flare in public, you may begin worrying whenever you are somewhere you cannot easily leave.
The body doesn't need to consciously say:
“According to my historical data, I have determined that this situation presents a 63% chance of pain.”
The response can happen automatically.
You simply notice:
I'm anxious.
Pain is not just a physical signal.
One of the most important developments in modern pain science has been recognising that pain is not a simple measurement of tissue damage.
The International Association for the Study of Pain defines pain as both a sensory and emotional experience and specifically notes that pain is influenced to varying degrees by biological, psychological and social factors.
This does not make pain less real.
It makes pain more complex.
Your experience of pain may be influenced by:
physical pathology
inflammation
injury
nerve activity
previous painful experiences
attention
sleep
mood
context
stress
expectations
fear
a sense of control
social support
what you believe the sensation means
None of these factors needs to be the sole “cause.”
They interact.
This is why I think the question:
“Is my pain physical or psychological?”
is often far less useful than:
“What is influencing my pain experience, and where do I have opportunities for support?”
Pain and danger are not exactly the same thing.
This distinction is important.
Pain often protects us from actual or potential harm.
But the intensity of pain is not a direct meter showing exactly how much tissue damage is occurring in that moment.
The International Association for the Study of Pain specifically distinguishes pain from nociception — the neural processing of potentially harmful stimuli.
In other words:
Pain is real.
Tissue signals are real.
But pain is an experience produced by an incredibly complex biological system rather than a simple readout from damaged tissue.
This helps explain something many people living with chronic pain experience:
Sometimes the pain is severe even though medical testing does not identify a corresponding acute injury.
Sometimes the original injury has healed but pain persists.
Sometimes a known disease such as endometriosis is present, but pain severity does not perfectly correlate with the amount of visible disease.
Sometimes pain fluctuates dramatically from one day to another.
None of these scenarios means the person is imagining it.
It means pain cannot always be reduced to:
damage in = pain out.
Why do I constantly scan my body for symptoms?
Because your attention has learned that your body contains important information.
If you have repeatedly been surprised by pain, monitoring yourself can begin to feel protective.
You wake up:
How do I feel today?
You walk:
Is my hip hurting?
You go to the bathroom:
Does that sensation mean the flare is beginning?
You approach your period:
How bad will this month be?
You eat:
Will this trigger something?
You exercise:
Am I going to regret this tomorrow?
This is often described as pain-related hypervigilance.
Hypervigilance means attention becomes strongly biased toward potential threat.
And it makes sense.
If there were a snake somewhere in your bedroom, you would probably struggle to focus on a Netflix episode until you knew where it was.
Your brain prioritises potential danger.
Pain can become similar.
When your body has become associated with unpredictable threat, attention repeatedly returns to it.
Does focusing on pain make it worse?
Attention can influence pain perception.
That does not mean you are causing your symptoms by paying attention to them.
It simply means that attention is part of how perception works.
Right now, notice your tongue.
You were probably not thinking about it five seconds ago.
But the moment I mentioned it, its position suddenly became much more noticeable.
The sensation was already there.
Attention changed its prominence.
Something similar can happen with bodily symptoms.
Research into pain-related vigilance suggests that people who perceive a body region or activity as threatening can become more attentive to sensations associated with it.
That makes sense from a survival perspective.
The problem is that when pain persists, the system can become organised around endless monitoring.
The woman is no longer only experiencing pain when it happens.
She is spending large parts of her life looking for the beginning of pain.
And that can become exhausting.
Why does a tiny sensation sometimes make me panic?
Because you may not be reacting only to the sensation occurring now.
You may be reacting to everything the sensation predicts.
A mild cramp is not simply:
a mild cramp.
It might mean:
Last time this happened I ended up in bed for two days.
A slight pulling sensation isn't simply:
a pulling sensation.
It becomes:
What if I'm starting another flare?
A moment of discomfort during intimacy may suddenly bring:
Please don't let this become painful again.
The sensation becomes loaded with meaning.
And human beings do not respond only to sensory information.
We respond to what we believe that information means.
This is why reassurance such as:
“You're fine. Don't worry.”
often doesn't work particularly well.
The threat response may already be happening faster than conscious reasoning can catch up.
Why does my body react when I know I'm safe?
Because knowing and feeling are not always the same process.
This is something I talk about constantly in my Clinical Hypnotherapy work.
You can know:
My doctor has investigated this.
And still feel afraid when the sensation appears.
You can know:
This particular movement is safe.
And still automatically brace.
You can know:
I survived the last flare.
And still panic about the next one.
You can know:
I am not in immediate danger.
And still feel your heart racing.
This doesn't mean you're failing to think rationally.
It means conscious intellectual understanding does not automatically overwrite learned responses.
Humans learn through experience.
Repeated experiences of pain can create expectations.
And once the system has learned:
this sensation may mean danger
simply saying:
“Don't worry”
may not be enough to change the reaction.
Sometimes the body needs new experiences as well as new information.
Why do I tense up when I'm in pain?
Tension is protective.
Think about what happens when somebody unexpectedly throws something toward you.
Your body braces automatically.
You do not consciously decide:
“I will now contract several muscle groups to protect myself.”
It happens.
Pain can trigger similar protective responses.
You may:
clench your jaw
hold your breath
tighten your shoulders
brace your abdomen
guard an injured region
tighten your pelvic floor
change the way you move
In the short term, these responses may be useful.
But when pain is persistent, protective tension can sometimes become habitual.
The body begins preparing for pain even before pain appears.
This can be especially relevant for women experiencing pelvic pain or painful intimacy.
If sex has hurt repeatedly, for example, it makes complete sense that the body may begin protecting before penetration occurs.
The response isn't stupidity.
It isn't dysfunction for no reason.
The body has learned:
last time this happened, we hurt.
Why does chronic pain make me afraid to do normal things?
Because avoiding something painful is one of the most natural behaviours imaginable.
If bending over repeatedly caused intense pain, why wouldn't you become cautious about bending?
If exercise led to a three-day flare, why wouldn't you hesitate the next time somebody suggested going for a run?
If sex hurt, why wouldn't you feel apprehensive about intimacy?
Avoidance often begins as sensible protection.
The difficulty occurs when avoidance gradually spreads.
Perhaps you initially avoid one movement.
Then exercise.
Then longer walks.
Then social plans.
Then travel.
Then sex.
Then anything that might potentially create symptoms.
This pattern has been studied through what pain researchers call fear-avoidance models.
The basic idea is that fear of pain can contribute to avoidance, heightened attention to symptoms and disability, which may then reinforce the belief that those situations remain dangerous.
The model is not a complete explanation of chronic pain, and researchers continue to refine it.
But clinically, it helps explain a pattern many people recognise immediately:
“My life has become smaller because I'm constantly trying to prevent pain.”
Why does avoiding pain sometimes increase anxiety?
Because avoidance gives your brain incomplete information.
Imagine somebody who is terrified of lifts.
Every time they see a lift, they take the stairs.
They think:
Good. I prevented something terrible happening.
But because they never entered the lift, they also never had an opportunity to discover:
Perhaps the feared catastrophe would not have happened.
Pain-related avoidance can sometimes work similarly.
If you believe a particular safe movement will cause catastrophe and always avoid it, your nervous system never receives corrective information.
It continues to believe:
We survived because we avoided it.
This does not mean people with chronic pain should ignore medical advice, force themselves through pain or indiscriminately expose themselves to activities that may be genuinely harmful.
That distinction matters enormously.
When new activity is appropriate, it should be guided by the person's medical situation and relevant healthcare professionals.
The goal is not reckless exposure.
It is helping the system distinguish between necessary protection and protection that may no longer be serving you.
Why do I feel anxious even on days when the pain isn't bad?
Because eventually anxiety can become organised around possibility, not just current pain.
You may have a low-pain day and still wonder:
How long will this last?
You make plans but add:
unless I'm in pain.
You feel good and immediately worry:
Does this mean I'm going to pay for it tomorrow?
You notice yourself enjoying something and then remember:
What if it comes back?
Living with persistent symptoms can make uncertainty incredibly difficult.
You are never only dealing with today.
You are also negotiating your prediction of tomorrow.
And sometimes the fear of losing a good day prevents you from fully inhabiting it.
Chronic pain can teach you not to trust your body
This is one of the parts of persistent pain I think deserves far more attention.
When your body repeatedly interrupts your life, it can begin to feel unreliable.
You may think:
I can't trust it.
Your body becomes something you monitor.
Something you manage.
Something you argue with.
Something you resent.
Instead of inhabiting your body, you stand outside it like a security guard:
What's wrong now?
For women with persistent pelvic pain, endometriosis or painful periods, this relationship can become particularly complicated.
Your cycle becomes something you fear.
Your pelvis becomes something you monitor.
Sex becomes something you anticipate pain around.
Your calendar becomes organised around symptoms.
Even pleasure can begin to feel risky.
Over time, the relationship can become:
me versus my body.
And I don't think healing that relationship begins by telling a woman:
“Your body is safe.”
Sometimes it hasn't felt safe.
Sometimes it has hurt terribly.
Instead, I think we can begin somewhere more truthful:
Can I learn to experience my body without interpreting every sensation as an emergency?
That's different.
Why does pain make me catastrophise?
“Catastrophising” is another word that can feel incredibly dismissive when used carelessly.
Nobody living with chronic pain wants to be told:
You're just catastrophising.
Pain catastrophising is a research term describing patterns such as repeatedly thinking about pain, feeling helpless about it or expecting particularly negative outcomes.
But context matters.
If someone has repeatedly experienced debilitating pain, worrying about another debilitating episode isn't ridiculous.
The therapeutic question isn't:
“Why are you being so dramatic?”
It is:
“How has your mind learned to predict pain, and what is that prediction doing to your life now?”
Perhaps the thought is:
This pain will never stop.
Or:
I won't cope if it gets worse.
Or:
Something terrible must be happening.
Or:
My body is completely broken.
These thoughts can intensify fear and helplessness.
And fear can change behaviour.
You withdraw.
Cancel plans.
Stop moving.
Lose sleep.
Constantly seek reassurance.
Google symptoms repeatedly.
The pain hasn't become imaginary.
But the pain now exists inside an entire ecosystem of meaning.
Does anxiety actually worsen chronic pain?
Pain and anxiety can influence one another.
That does not mean anxiety is the hidden cause of every person's pain.
Research consistently describes pain and stress as mutually interacting processes rather than a simple one-way relationship.
Pain can create anxiety.
Anxiety can heighten vigilance, muscle tension and threat anticipation.
Poor sleep can affect both.
Avoidance can affect both.
Stressful life circumstances can affect both.
And living with chronic pain can itself be an enormous ongoing stressor.
So rather than saying:
“Anxiety makes pain worse.”
I prefer:
“Pain and anxiety can become part of a reinforcing loop.”
Because that doesn't blame the person.
And it gives us more than one point where we might intervene.
Am I making my pain worse by being anxious?
This is one question I want to answer very carefully:
Do not blame yourself.
You did not fail at chronic pain because your nervous system became frightened.
You are not responsible for every fluctuation because you felt anxious that day.
And you do not need to achieve perfect calm before you are allowed to heal.
Pain is complex.
A recent critical review of central sensitisation and chronic pain even cautioned against overstating how well we currently understand specific causal mechanisms in humans.
That scientific humility matters.
We should not replace one oversimplification:
“Pain equals tissue damage.”
with another:
“Pain equals nervous-system dysregulation.”
Human pain is more complicated than either explanation.
My interest therapeutically isn't finding another reason to blame your body.
It's identifying the factors we can work with without pretending they explain everything.
Why does reassurance stop working?
If you've experienced chronic pain, you may know this cycle:
You notice a sensation.
You become frightened.
You ask somebody:
“Do you think this is normal?”
They reassure you.
You feel better.
For a while.
Then another sensation appears.
And the anxiety returns.
This happens because reassurance can reduce anxiety temporarily without necessarily changing the underlying belief:
My body is unpredictable and I may not be able to cope if something happens.
Sometimes the deeper work is not obtaining one hundred percent certainty that nothing uncomfortable will ever happen again.
Because none of us can have that certainty.
It is developing something more powerful:
the belief that I can respond to my body without immediately becoming overwhelmed by it.
That is a form of safety that doesn't depend on everything feeling perfect.
So what actually helps?
There is no single treatment for every person living with chronic pain.
Good pain care is often multidisciplinary.
Depending on the person and condition, that could involve:
medical care
medication
physiotherapy
pain medicine
exercise or rehabilitation
psychological therapy
sleep support
pelvic health physiotherapy
occupational therapy
lifestyle interventions
Clinical Hypnotherapy as an adjunctive approach
Major clinical guidance around chronic pain emphasises person-centred assessment rather than treating everyone identically, and psychological therapies such as pain-focused CBT and ACT have roles in chronic primary pain care.
Receiving psychological support does not mean your pain is imaginary.
We use psychological interventions in pain partly because human beings experience pain through brains, bodies, emotions, attention, behaviour and relationships.
You cannot separate a person neatly into physical and psychological halves.
Where might Clinical Hypnotherapy fit?
Clinical Hypnotherapy gives us one way of working with processes that can become involved in persistent pain.
Depending on the woman and what is clinically appropriate, we may work with:
anticipatory anxiety
attention toward bodily sensations
pain-related imagery
muscular guarding
catastrophic predictions
fear associated with future flares
emotional associations with pain
perceived helplessness
sleep-related tension
body disconnection
confidence in coping
experiences of safety
the expectation of pain
Hypnosis involves focused attention and responsiveness to suggestion.
That makes it particularly interesting to me in pain work because pain itself is so deeply connected with attention, perception, expectation and meaning.
But I do not use hypnosis to tell somebody:
You aren't in pain.
I don't find that respectful or particularly sophisticated.
Instead, the work may sound more like:
Can the sensation occupy slightly less of your awareness?
Can the body soften where it no longer needs to brace?
Can we change the image your mind automatically creates around this pain?
Can you imagine experiencing a sensation without immediately predicting catastrophe?
Can we rehearse moving through a future flare with more choice?
Can your body begin experiencing moments that are not entirely organised around threat?
That's much closer to how I think about it.
Clinical Hypnotherapy is not about convincing you nothing is wrong.
This is probably the most important distinction in my approach.
If you are living with an actual medical condition, I am not going to tell your nervous system:
Nothing is wrong.
Sometimes something is happening.
You may have endometriosis.
A musculoskeletal condition.
A neurological condition.
An inflammatory illness.
Previous injury.
Pelvic floor dysfunction.
Or another legitimate medical contributor.
The goal cannot be to gaslight your body into ignoring relevant information.
Instead, I am interested in helping the system become more discerning.
Does this sensation require emergency-level protection?
Am I responding to what is happening now — or to everything I fear might happen next?
Can I recognise pain without immediately becoming consumed by it?
Can I listen to my body without constantly interrogating it?
This is not about becoming indifferent to your symptoms.
It is about developing more flexibility in how you respond to them.
My perspective on chronic pain and anxiety:
I don't believe your body is your enemy.
I don't believe your nervous system is broken.
And I don't think anxiety around chronic pain is evidence that you're failing to cope.
Often, the response makes extraordinary sense.
Pain happened.
It mattered.
Your system learned.
It began watching.
Predicting.
Bracing.
Protecting.
The problem isn't necessarily that your body learned to protect you.
The problem is that after months or years of persistent pain, protection can begin taking up enormous amounts of your life.
You stop only responding to pain.
You begin responding to the possibility of pain.
And eventually:
your calendar protects you.
Your relationships protect you.
Your movement protects you.
Your sexuality protects you.
Your attention protects you.
Your thoughts protect you.
Your entire life can begin organising itself around:
How do I make sure this never hurts again?
And because complete certainty is impossible, the system never gets to stand down.
For me, therapeutic work is not about fighting that protective response.
It is about helping it become more flexible.
Not:
“There is never danger.”
But:
“I don't need to experience every sensation as danger.”
Not:
“I will never experience pain again.”
But:
“Pain does not have to determine every decision I make.”
Not:
“My body will never surprise me.”
But:
“I can develop greater trust in my ability to respond when it does.”
That is a very different kind of safety.
What might a Clinical Hypnotherapy session for pain-related anxiety involve?
My sessions are 90 minutes.
We begin with conversation rather than immediately moving into hypnosis.
I want to understand:
When does the anxiety begin?
Does pain come first, or fear?
What sensations are most threatening?
What do you immediately predict when they appear?
What do you stop yourself from doing?
Where do you brace?
What happened during previous flares?
What does pain mean to you now?
What reassurance do you seek?
What has chronic pain changed about how you experience your body?
What would become possible if you trusted yourself more around symptoms?
The hypnotic component of my sessions is commonly around 30–45 minutes, depending on the work.
We may then explore:
focused attention
sensation
imagery
relaxation where appropriate
reducing unnecessary guarding
changing responses to pain-related cues
rehearsing future experiences
strengthening coping
reconnecting with neutral or pleasant bodily sensations
experiencing greater choice around familiar triggers
There is no generic chronic-pain script.
Your pattern matters.
What if there really is something medically wrong?
Then it needs appropriate medical care.
Psychological or hypnotherapeutic approaches should never become an excuse to ignore new, severe or changing symptoms.
If something changes significantly, seek appropriate assessment.
I am especially cautious about the idea that once somebody has chronic pain, every future symptom should automatically be labelled “sensitisation” or anxiety.
Bodies still develop medical problems.
New symptoms deserve appropriate clinical judgement.
Pain-informed psychological work and good medicine should complement one another, not compete.
When should I seek urgent medical attention?
Seek urgent medical care if you experience symptoms that could indicate a medical emergency, particularly new or severe symptoms such as sudden extreme pain, significant bleeding, fainting, chest pain, breathing difficulty, neurological changes or other symptoms you are concerned may require urgent assessment.
If you are uncertain whether a symptom is medically significant, contact an appropriate healthcare professional.
Clinical Hypnotherapy is not a substitute for emergency or medical care.
Frequently asked questions about chronic pain and anxiety
Why does chronic pain make me anxious?
Pain signals potential threat and can become associated with fear, uncertainty and anticipation. After repeated painful experiences, your system may become increasingly attentive to sensations and situations associated with pain.
Why am I anxious when I'm not currently in pain?
You may be responding to the possibility of pain based on previous experience. Chronic pain can create anticipatory anxiety, where your attention and behaviour become organised around preventing a future flare.
Why does my body panic before I consciously feel afraid?
Protective responses can occur quickly and automatically. Your conscious reasoning does not have to initiate every fear response.
Is chronic pain all in my head?
No. Pain is a real sensory and emotional experience influenced by biological, psychological and social factors. Psychological influences do not make pain imaginary.
Does anxiety cause chronic pain?
Not necessarily. Chronic pain has many causes and contributors. Pain and anxiety can influence one another without anxiety being the original cause of pain.
Can anxiety make pain feel worse?
Fear, stress, attention, muscular tension, poor sleep and threat anticipation can interact with pain perception and disability. This does not mean a person is voluntarily causing their pain.
Why do I constantly check my body?
Repeated or unpredictable pain can teach you to monitor bodily sensations closely for signs of possible threat. This is sometimes described as pain-related hypervigilance.
Why do I avoid things because I'm afraid they will hurt?
Avoidance is a natural protective response. When it becomes generalised to situations or movements that are safe, however, it can reinforce fear and increasingly restrict daily life.
Can Clinical Hypnotherapy help pain-related anxiety?
Clinical Hypnotherapy may be used as an adjunctive intervention to work with pain-related fear, attention, expectation, tension, imagery and coping. It does not replace appropriate medical assessment or treatment.
Does reducing anxiety guarantee my pain will disappear?
No. Pain is multidimensional, and reducing anxiety does not guarantee elimination of pain. Therapy may instead focus on improving coping, reducing distress, increasing function and changing the extent to which pain controls daily life.
Where can I see a Clinical Hypnotherapist for chronic pain and anxiety in Brisbane?
I offer Clinical Hypnotherapy for women experiencing persistent pain, anxiety and women's health concerns from The Work Well in Paddington, Brisbane, as well as online throughout Australia.
Clinical Hypnotherapy for Chronic Pain and Anxiety in Brisbane.
If you live with chronic pain, it can feel like you never truly get to stop thinking about your body.
Even on the better days, part of you may be waiting.
Monitoring.
Predicting.
Preparing.
Wondering when it will happen again.
I want you to know that there is a reason this response develops.
You are not simply “too anxious.”
Your system has had experiences.
It has learned from them.
It is trying to protect you.
But protection does not have to mean living the rest of your life in anticipation of the next flare.
I'm Prue Walmsley, a Clinical Hypnotherapist specialising in women's health.
I hold a Bachelor of Psychological Science and a Diploma of Clinical Hypno-Psychotherapy, and I am a member of the Australian Hypnotherapists Association.
I work with women experiencing persistent pain, women's health concerns, anxiety, overthinking, emotional overwhelm, body disconnection and the psychological patterns that can develop after living with symptoms for a long time.
I offer 90-minute Clinical Hypnotherapy appointments from The Work Well in Paddington, Brisbane, as well as online appointments across Australia.
My work is not about convincing you that nothing is wrong.
It is about helping you develop a relationship with your body in which every sensation does not have to become an emergency.
Because perhaps safety isn't:
“I know I will never feel pain again.”
Perhaps safety can also become:
“If something happens in my body, I trust myself to meet it without immediately abandoning myself to fear.”
Explore Clinical Hypnotherapy for Persistent Pain & Women's Health →
Read: Can Hypnotherapy Help With Endometriosis and Chronic Pelvic Pain? →
Learn more about Clinical Hypnotherapy →
Learn more about working with Prue →
Book a Clinical Hypnotherapy appointment →
References & further reading
International Association for the Study of Pain. IASP Revised Definition of Pain.
International Association for the Study of Pain. Definitions of Chronic Pain Syndromes.
National Institute for Health and Care Excellence. Chronic pain (primary and secondary) in over 16s: assessment and management. NG193.
Abdallah CG, et al. The mutually reinforcing dynamics between pain and stress: mechanisms, impacts and management strategies. Frontiers in Pain Research. 2024.
Velasco E, et al. Is chronic pain caused by central sensitization? A review and critical point of view. Neuroscience & Biobehavioral Reviews. 2024.
Vlaeyen JWS, Linton SJ. Fear-avoidance and its consequences in chronic musculoskeletal pain: a state of the art. Pain. 2000.
