Saying We're Under Stress Makes Us Feel Stressed

By Barbara Lasser

We use the word stress imprecisely. We say, for example, ``it's been a
stressful day,'' or ``she's under a lot of stress.''

Our jobs, busy schedules, relationship problems, family responsibilities, serious illnesses, financial difficulties, are all facts of life that can be experienced as stressful --- they are potential stressors. But the degree to which these or any other circumstances are experienced as stressful depends in part on how we think about them, how we choose to respond to them.

I find it helpful to think of these life circumstances as potential stressors, and our response to them --- our behavioral and mental reaction to such circumstances, as determining how ``stressed'' we actually feel.

And to a large extent, that reaction is under our control. That's part of the reason that different individuals experience the same potentially stressful events in different ways, some feeling stressed, for example, and others feeling challenged, or motivated. And it's why the same person may experience similar events as more or less stressful, at different times.

Clearly, certain events that we confront as we navigate through our lives
are difficult, sad, distressing, challenging, and often represent painful loss or
change. That's a given. So what do we do with it? What room is there for variation in the degree and duration to which circumstances are experienced as stressful?

What we tell ourselves about the situation, or how we think about it, is central to how we will feel and behave and to how our body will respond. Let's say we have an incredibly tightly scheduled week, both at work and at home. Time
pressure. We've all been there.

We can think ``I must get it all done, and done well, no matter what,'' or ``If I don't get it all done it will be a catastrophe,'' or ``If I let the ball drop on anything, I will have failed.'' We've all thought that. And thinking that we feel anxious, fearful, worried, and harried.

Physiologically, our blood pressure, heart rate, blood flow to muscles, rate of breathing, and metabolism increase. Our immune functioning is affected. As we become aware of aspects of our physiological response to such thoughts, (for
example, as we notice our heart pounding,) we feel more anxious. Which makes us less able to act effectively and productively.

Let's re-roll the tape and start again. Same incredibly busy, demanding
schedule. What else can we tell ourselves about it? How else can we interpret it?

We might think ``I've got a lot to do, more than can be done in the time available. I'll prioritize as best I can, do what I can, and the rest will have to wait. If someone has a problem with that, I'll deal with it.''

Thinking that, we're likely to feel less anxious and harried, less physiologically aroused, and more able to function effectively. We're likely to feel less ``stressed.''

I know I've painted a simple scenario and that life is more complicated. It's not easy to change habitual beliefs. But the principle is still valid. Potentially stressful situations can be approached as opportunities to modify habitual thinking that doesn't serve us well.

A few months ago I felt overwhelmed. A recent death in my family, two close friends just diagnosed with life-threatening illnesses, work responsibilities, people who needed me, and my own health concerns. I felt anxious and thought ``if anything else happens I won't be able to handle it.''

I'm a cognitive therapist, and so I worked on my thinking. Using techniques such as those presented in books like Mind Over Mood by David Greenberger and Christine Padesky, and The Feeling Good Handbook by David Burns, I
identified distortions and exaggerations in my thoughts, and arrived at something
much more moderate, realistic, and helpful.

I accepted that I had a lot to deal with at that time, and that yes, even so, ``something else might happen.'' Life is like that. (To paraphrase Tevye in
Fiddler, ``Here's to life, whatever it brings.'')

I wouldn't meet all the expectations others had for me. I'd miss the mark sometimes, make mistakes. That would have to be okay.

I also felt anxious about life's ultimate losses --- those of people close to me, and my own. And with effort I realized -- gradually -- really -- that whatever happened, I'd be able to handle it. Not necessarily fix it or change it, but bear it, accept it, find a way to understand and make peace with it, work to make it growth-producing.

A few months ago my friend Liz was diagnosed with cancer -- in her liver, but of undetermined origin. Like most of us, at first she reeled from the shock. She thought ``I'm going to die. I won't live to see my grandchildren grow up, this can't be happening.'' She felt scared, panicky, sad, angry, and confused.

Over the next few weeks Liz gathered information about her treatment options and began to approach the challenge with all her resources. She's now in a
clinical trial of a drug designed to kill tumors by cutting off their blood supply, and she's receiving traditional chemotherapy agents as well.

We went for a walk a few weeks ago and she said ``Barbara, if I have only a few years to live, I want to live them gratefully and zestfully. If I live in paralyzing fear, I don't even have the present.''

Liz wouldn't say that she's ``under a lot of stress'' now. She thinks about her circumstances differently. She sees an opportunity to make something
meaningful of this difficult life change, and she has seized it.