Workers in chronic pain often choose to conceal it and continue working as though nothing were wrong, according to new research led by the University of Delaware.
Drawing on a survey of 66 workers living with chronic pain, the authors explored how hidden expectations shape everyday work experiences. Their participants came from a wide range of occupations, but despite these differences, they faced similar pressures: Their bodies had to conform to a standard of uninterrupted functionality.
“People feel like they can’t talk about their pain because it signals that they’re not able to meet expectations, even when those expectations are unrealistic,” said Beth Schinoff, lead author and assistant professor of management in UD’s Alfred Lerner College of Business and Economics.
Schinoff and her co-authors examined how modern workplaces are built on implicit assumptions about what she calls “the ideal worker body.”
“We don’t think about the ways in which our bodies are being used, or the way in which organizations are asking us to use our bodies, especially because most people’s work is repetitive in some way,” Schinoff said. “It really does have detrimental effects on our bodies.”
While organizations often emphasize productivity, commitment and professionalism, the study, recently published in the Academy of Management Journal, reveals that these expectations are deeply tied to bodily norms that are rarely acknowledged.
As Schinoff explained, “workplaces don’t just assume an ideal worker they assume an ideal worker body,” one that can consistently perform without interruption, discomfort or limitation.
Whether it meant standing for hours, typing continuously or sitting through long meetings, their work assumed bodies that could “do what the job requires, when the job requires it, without visible struggle,” she said.
However, this strategy comes at a cost. By pushing themselves to meet expectations, workers often exacerbate their pain, creating a self-reinforcing cycle.
Schinoff described this as a cycle of pain and shame, where “workers push through pain to appear capable, which worsens their condition, which then increases the pressure to hide it.”
This cycle highlights a key contribution of her research: the problem is not simply that individuals experience pain, but that organizational norms intensify and reproduce that pain.
For example, the expectation to sit upright for long meetings or to keep a camera on during virtual calls may seem trivial, but for someone in chronic pain, these requirements can be physically taxing. Because such norms are taken for granted, workers who cannot meet them often internalize their struggles as personal failures rather than questioning the system itself.
“These expectations feel natural, which makes it even harder to challenge them,” Schinoff noted.
The consequences of this cycle vary across individuals. Schinoff found that about two-thirds of her participants reached a breaking point, where their pain became so severe that it interfered not only with work but also with daily life.
Some described being unable to perform basic tasks outside of work, such as opening jars or caring for family members. For these individuals, the demand to maintain an ideal worker body became unsustainable, forcing them to leave their jobs.
In contrast, about one-third of participants were able to continue working, often because they had access to flexibility or supportive management. This variation underscores an important point: chronic pain is not just a medical condition, but an organizational phenomenon shaped by workplace structures and expectations.
Another key aspect of Schinoff’s research is the role of medical professionals. Many participants turned to doctors not only for treatment but also for validation of their experiences. Receiving a diagnosis or having their pain taken seriously helped some workers reframe their relationship to work.
Schinoff explained that “validation from medical professionals can interrupt the cycle,” allowing workers to step away from the pressure to perform as ideal-worker-bodied. In contrast, those who encountered skepticism or dismissal from doctors often remained trapped in the cycle, continuing to push themselves despite worsening pain.
This shift led to one of Schinoff’s most important conceptual contributions: the idea of the “sufficient worker body.” Rather than striving to meet the unrealistic standard of the ideal worker body, some participants began to redefine what it means to be a capable worker.
“A sufficient worker body is one that can still do the job well, but maybe in a different way,” Schinoff said. This might involve working while lying down, taking frequent breaks, dictating instead of typing or adjusting schedules to accommodate pain.
Ultimately, Schinoff’s research reframed chronic pain as a systemic issue rather than an individual problem. By revealing how workplaces are structured around narrow assumptions about the body, she showed how these environments can unintentionally exclude or harm workers with different bodily experiences.
At the same time, her work points to the possibility of more inclusive approaches. Recognizing the legitimacy of the “sufficient worker body” and questioning taken-for-granted norms can help organizations create environments where a wider range of bodies can thrive.
More broadly, Schinoff argued that bodily diversity should be understood as a fundamental aspect of workforce diversity.
“Bodies naturally vary and change over time,” she said, and workplaces that ignore this reality risk excluding not only people with chronic conditions but also anyone whose body does not consistently meet idealized expectations.
Her research ultimately calls for a shift in how we think about work, moving away from rigid, body-based standards and toward more flexible, humane understandings of what it means to be a capable worker.
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