Stress

When I was a grad student (in counseling), THE most valuable class I took was called Stress Management. It wasn't my favorite class at the time... I was in my third trimester of pregnancy, working 20 hours a week, doing an internship another 20 hours a week, and taking two classes so I could finish my degree before the baby arrived. And this was a fairly demanding class - lots of reading, difficult tests, lots of neuroscience and brain chemistry and data from research articles... Lots of stress, ha ha.

But I've been so grateful over the years that I took that class, because that and Theories of Family Counseling are the two classes where I learned practical, every-day, real-life stuff that I could use to help myself and my family and my friends who come to me for help with bad situations. It's been 12 years since I took those classes, yet I still remember and use much of the information I gleaned from them. (Yet another reason for getting that degree even though I've never earned a dime from it.)

This week I am reminded of something helpful I learned in Stress Management.

For about two weeks now, this has been what every day has looked like for me: Get up before 7. Start school at 8:30. Do school straight through till lunch. Eat lunch at computer, catching up on other people's blogs. Go back for more school till 2 or 3 or 4, depending on how much the kids piddle. Run the errand for the day - say, the grocery store, or picking up or dropping off a kid somewhere. Come home and typeset for dh's company until dinner. Dinner is either leftovers or a quick trip out to the strip mall down the street that has either Mexican, Chinese, or Italian. Come back and keep typesetting until 10 or 11 or 12 at night, depending on how much there is to do for that day. Fall into bed. Repeat the next day. Only exception to this is weekends, in which we don't do school but I still do the typesetting, stopping long enough to throw a birthday party or go to church.

This, my friends, is a recipe for burnout.

Wednesday night I lost it. About 10:00 I finished the work for the day. And started yelling and bursting into tears. Not rational, I knew even at the time, just sick. of. everything. Tired of working so hard and never feeling done. Tired of having even more to do still hanging over my head. Tired of hearing myself snap at the kids and bite dh's head off, when they are working just as hard as I am. Just tired.

So yesterday (Thursday) when I woke up, I remembered some of the science of Stress Management that I learned all those years ago. Number 1, stress sucks all the serotonin out of your brain and makes you depressed. Irritable. Mean to people you love. To build up more serotonin, you gotta a) get some sleep; b) exercise; c) practice deep, rhythmic breathing. These are not new-agey Eastern religious concepts... these remedies have sound research to back them up.

So yesterday I took not one, but TWO naps. Short, but helpful. I went for an hour-long walk. Helped even more. I took about 10-12 moments out of the day and was intentional about taking, holding, and releasing deep breaths. Helped. And I read. (Haven't read any research on that, but a good book relaxes me. I picked up Nicholas Evans' The Smoke Jumpers, which was perfect light brain candy for the type of relaxation I needed.)

And I monitored my reaction to all these efforts. It was almost textbook: In the morning, I was still very jumpy and felt that terrible internal pressure in my heart and head that screams, "You'll never get done! Get back to work!" After nap and deep breathing, I felt a little ease of the pressure. After reading, a little less. After nap #2, a sense of something that reminded me of calm. And after my walk last night, I was downright peaceful. Even - dare I say, cheerful?

The deadlines still loom. But I have to stop and "sharpen the saw," as Thomas Covey used to say, so that I have the resources to keep going until this project is over.

One final thought - this morning after breakfast I finally emerged from the media-free cocoon I've been in all week to read some of the horrible accounts of the devastation and suffering in New Orleans. Now my heart is heavy again, for different reasons. Funny how God sends you just the reminders you need right when you need them. I needed to be reminded that my problems are just no big deal.