Shrugging Off the Shadows of Stress

Stress is like a shadow—ever present and looming until we decide to turn towards the light of awareness and let it fade away.

Image from Unsplash | Kaleb Tapp

I always knew I had a stress problem, and I thought I had it under control. Work through it, spend some time outdoors, and move on. The process proved more difficult. As the years went on, I started noticing this overall feeling of unease. Tense shoulders. Okay, so I needed to stretch more. Tense jaw. Fine, to the dentist. Pain in my ear. Not fun, but to the ENT I went (He told me that most ear/jaw pain combos he sees are stress related.) Back and forth, a lot of money and pain later, and stress had been the root of the problems all along. I just didn’t want to admit it. If it were strictly medical, some doctor must be able to fix it. With stress, I had to look deeper, identify the root cause, and determine how to mitigate it.

It’s funny how the brain works, how it can convince us of just about anything. I’d been to three specialists before a particularly insightful individual in the naturopathic field suggested my symptoms might be stress-related. I cringed inside, knowing it could be true. Still . . .

“I handle stress just fine,” I told myself.

Well, my body was telling a different story.

The connection was obvious once I allowed myself to see it. My body had been sending signals that my mind refused to interpret correctly. I’d been treating symptoms while ignoring the cause.

So I started small. Five minutes of meditation in the morning. Turning off my phone in the evenings and on the weekends. Setting boundaries around work hours. Freeing myself of debt. Saying no to commitments that didn’t bring me joy. It felt selfish at first, like I was letting people down. But as my physical symptoms receded, I realized I was finally moving in the right direction.

I wasn’t feeling perfect, but then again, perfection isn’t the goal—awareness is.

I’d been chasing this idea of being completely stress-free, which was just adding more pressure. The real transformation wasn’t eliminating stress entirely, it was recognizing it, eliminating where possible, and responding appropriately to stressors I couldn’t 100% do away with.

Overcoming stress isn’t about avoiding storms; it’s about learning to lift our face toward the rain as we navigate life’s wild waters. 

Weeks later, my ear pressure had disappeared. The jaw pain only returned during particularly challenging weeks, but now I recognized it as a warning sign rather than a mysterious affliction, and even that got under control. I’d developed a toolkit: breathing exercises for immediate relief, exercise, yoga, and outdoor time for long-term management, and the courage to examine what in my life needed changing.

I found it hardest to admit that some of my stress stemmed from my own decisions. Two decades spent on a career I never loved. The standards I held myself to. The obligations I thought were non-negotiable yet turned out to allow for some wiggle room. Changing these things meant confronting some uncomfortable truths about myself. It meant questioning the identity I’d built. Who was I if not the reliable one, the one who could handle it all?

As it turns out, I’m still me—just a version who listens when her body speaks. A version who understands that strength isn’t about endurance at all costs, but about knowing when to push and when to rest.

Stress is not just in our heads—it also lives in our bodies. The mind-body connection isn’t some new age concept; it’s biology. When I finally accepted this reality, healing became possible.

Now, when I notice that first twinge of tension creeping into my shoulders, I pause. I take a breath. I ask myself what’s really happening. Sometimes, it’s as simple as needing a walk or a glass of water, or absolute quiet and solitude. Other times, it’s my body warning me I’m taking on too much, saying no to too little, or ignoring a deeper issue that needs addressing.

The most surprising discovery was how many of my “unavoidable” stressors were actually choices in disguise. I couldn’t control traffic or crowds when I needed to go shopping in the next town over, but I could leave earlier to avoid the worst of both. I couldn’t change someone’s personality, but I could change how I responded to it (or simply avoid them). And in some cases, I could make the radical choice to remove myself from situations that consistently damaged my well-being.

What I’ve learned is that we don’t have time not to deal with the signs of stress. The hours I spent in doctors’ offices, the days lost to pain and fatigue, the mental energy wasted on worry—all of that time could have been reclaimed if I’d addressed the root cause sooner.

I’m not saying I’ve achieved perfect balance. Some days, I still catch myself grinding my teeth or stiffening until my neck aches. But now I recognize these moments for what they are: messages from my body that deserve my attention.

I’ve had a doctor tell me: “You’d be surprised how many patients come through my door with problems that no medication can fix.”

Because stress management isn’t a one-and-done solution, but having learned to translate the language my body speaks, I’ve created a new relationship with my health. One based on trust and respect, and even sometimes frustration (like reminding myself the double-fudge brownie is not okay after 6 pm, or I do need to exercise when I'd rather not). I understand now that my body isn’t betraying me when symptoms arise—it’s trying to protect me.

This doesn’t mean I ignore potential medical issues. However, I’ve learned to include stress in the conversation, to mention it as a potential factor rather than dismissing it out of embarrassment or denial.

One of life’s most powerful antidotes to stress is not avoidance, but embracing moments of stillness. 

What I didn’t always understand is that yes, in some ways it is in my head, but that doesn’t make it any less real. The brain and body aren’t separate entities; they’re constantly communicating, influencing each other in ways we’re still trying to understand. Your nervous system doesn’t distinguish between ‘good busy’ and ‘bad busy’ after a certain point. It just knows you’re in overdrive.

I had to ask myself: “Was I really living my best life, or was I just running from the discomfort of slowing down?”

The truth is, our culture rarely encourages us to listen to our bodies. We’re praised for pushing through pain, for sacrificing sleep, for being “always on.” We wear exhaustion like a status symbol.

I was also guilty of this mindset. I’d smile through stress, brag about how little sleep I got, wear my exhaustion like an achievement. Your body is keeping the score, whether or not you’re paying attention. My body was indeed keeping score—tallying every calorie of stress eating, every night of insufficient sleep, every moment I pushed through instead of pausing. And eventually, it presented me with the bill.

Learning to manage stress hasn’t been a linear journey. There are still days when I fall back into old patterns, when deadlines loom and obligations pile up. But now I catch myself sooner and step away to make time for what brings joy. I recognize the warning signs—that slight tension in my jaw, the shallow breathing, the racing thoughts—and I course-correct before the small signals become blaring alarms.

Perhaps the most important lesson I’ve learned is that stress management isn’t just about adding relaxation techniques to an overfilled life. It’s about examining what’s filling that life.

I began asking myself deeper questions: Why do I say yes when I want to say no? What am I afraid will happen if I say no or make a beneficial change? Whose expectations am I trying to meet?

The change didn’t happen overnight, and it’s still ongoing. Some days I feel like I’ve mastered this new way of being, and other days I stumble back into old patterns. That’s when I remind myself that awareness isn’t perfection—it’s simply noticing, acknowledging, and gently redirecting.

While we can’t control every stressor that comes our way, we can control our responses to them. We can choose awareness over avoidance. And that’s the beauty of it all. There’s freedom in recognizing that stress management isn’t about eliminating stress entirely—it’s about creating a relationship with it that works for you.

Not perfect, not stress-free, but aware. And that awareness has become my greatest tool. I’ve discovered that practicing mindfulness isn’t some luxury for people with too much time on their hands—it is essential maintenance for a healthy life well-lived.

When I think about how far I’ve come, I realize that the greatest paradox of my journey is that by acknowledging my limitations, I’ve actually expanded my capabilities.

By accepting that we can’t do everything, we can discover and focus on what matters most to us.