Stress Was Living in My Body- Here's How I Evicted It (And You Can Too)

Stress is a tricky thing. Sometimes it’s loud, pounding in your chest like a warning bell. Other times, it’s silent, wrapping itself around you so subtly that you don’t even realize you’re carrying it—until your body starts to break down.

He says it again. “I need you to stop operating up here” indicating that I’m living tensely with my emotions up to my eyeballs. “You’re a leader in this company, and when you look alarmed, it alarms everyone else”. I looked at him, partially ready to cry, partially confused- I wanted to tell him, I’m not “living up here”. I’m not! I’m not feeling ultra stressed. I’m not even that worried about this latest fiasco that popped up that needs to be solved I’m not. But it can’t be. I’m not stressed! I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him that I was fine, that I was managing. But deep down, I knew something was off. How could I explain the daily tension headaches, the sleepless nights, the way my body betrayed me no matter how hard I tried to keep it together??

It’s been a long day, a long week. I read somewhere that if you smile, that tells your body things are ok and it will reduce the tension head ache. I’m in deep on my daily tension headache, it rolls around every day by at least 4 pm, but these days it is setting in even earlier. The grip on the back of my head, my neck, pulling so hard, that I have to fight to keep my head up. I sat there, smiling like a clown, nothing genuine about the grin on my face. Just sheer force of will curving my lips into what surely appeared as a grimace. The tension wrapping itself around my head like a vice. Must keep working, must be ok.?

It’s gotten to the point that I don’t recognize myself anymore. My face, poofy, dark circles bruising my eyes. Acne surfacing that I’ve never had before- never. I was always so fortunate to have clear skin. No amount of soothing oil or makeup can mask the pillowy look of my face, this face that stares back at me in the mirror, when I dare to look, meet her eyes and shame her. Blame her. Scorn her for being so big, for being unable to sleep, for everything. How dare you, do you know how hard I’m working? Don’t you betray me like that.?

It's late in the day, just about quitting time. I’m trying desperately to meditate so I can make the transition from VP of Finance & HR to Mom & Wife. While I meditate, I stretch my incredibly tight neck, hoping that this stretch, this time, will prove to break the tension. Will prevent my ears from pulsing tonight, but I know it won’t. Meditation helps, I activate my vagus nerve, just like I learned in my meditation course, to calm down. Thoughts float through my mind, some sticking, some demanding I jot them down on the notebook on my desk. I return to my meditation. Determined to put in the 20 minutes that promises relief. But at the end of 20 minutes, I admittedly feel better, but my body is still humming, my headache still gripping, my shame fresh. Rolling my shoulders as I silently chant my mantra, I feel like I’m rolling boulders through mud. They’re crunchy, sticky, and so tight even rolling invokes a dull pain. My shoulders sit hunched forward, bound by the tension that consistently lives between my shoulder blades. There; s no escaping this jailer, he’s in my own body, and isn’t letting me go anytime soon.?

A colleague pops in to tell me good night, catching me in my meditative state, looking around to see what was going on in my office. I smile, wishing them a great night as well, my toes curling in my shoes. I used to be so social- loved being with other people. Now I don’t even like being with myself.?

I finally get the courage to leave my desk. Leaving my desk, packing up to go home, is filled with dread. Every change, every move I make, feels me with dismay these days. It’s not that I don’t want to go home, it’s just that I don’t want to move. I can’t. I’m frozen. The idea of packing my things up and making the drive home makes me sick to my stomach. It’s so much. It’s too much. I’ll just sit here a while longer. I literally just sit. Me, my screen full of spreadsheets, and the tension. All three of us, listening to the clock tick. Finally, my husband pings me, “you on your way?” and I snap. “I’m busy! I’ll come when I come!”. But will I? Was that response warranted? He’s just checking in on me, but any exchange is charged with friction, even when he has good intentions. My intentions aren’t even considered- I don’t have the energy to have intentions. I just am.

?This life that I built, this success I made, didn’t seem to fit on me. It’s like a pair of my pants right now- nothing fits. It’s all too small, so stifling, so hard to wear. But this is what I’ve worked for, my career has always been important to me, and I’m incredibly successful. Doing a job I love with people I count as my second family, sometimes my first. I get to make decisions, contribute in a meaningful way, even fail sometimes while learning, bask in my autonomy as I grow myself and the company. But it doesn’t fit. I’m nothing like the person I thought I’d be when I got here. The person I am is an unwelcome guest at my success party. She’s crashing it, hogging all the glory and leaving me with a bowl of disappointment and nights of sleepless fear and shame.?

The nights. The nights are worse. So much worse than the days. The nights are even more isolating. Even lonelier. The anxiety building towards sleep is debilitating. I line up the bottles on my counter, these bottles that save me from myself. I’ve got a cocktail, but I’m not real picky. Just need to take enough to knock myself out. To stop my racing mind, always racing towards, what? Towards nothing. Towards a cliff that at this point, I’m considering jumping off. Just let me. Just let me be done. I can’t do sleep every three hours, it’s not even restful sleep, it’s medicine induced. It’s desperation induced.?

I remember the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. There was an incident at work, it pushed me over the edge, and I acted completely out of character. I came home from the office, slammed my bathroom drawer while screaming a stream of obscenities at my unsuspecting husband. The drawer face broke in half, clattered to the floor, along with my dignity and sanity. I sat on the cold tile floor in my bathroom, in a pool of tears – yes, literal pool- looking for myself. Where am I?

?I’m here. I know where I am now. And what I wouldn’t give to go back and hug that tension riddled, poofy, shameful, unsleeping version of me. She needed compassion, not more grit. They were right, it was stress. Stress, such a simple word, hardly rendering justice to such a painful and powerful state. Stress, not just a mental burden; it’s physical, chemical, and deeply ingrained in our nervous system. I realized that my body was stuck in survival mode—constantly switching between fight, flight, or freeze. Mostly freeze. Everything was a threat. Including myself.?

Once I learned this, everything started to make sense. Of course I couldn’t “just calm down.” My body didn’t know how. But with that understanding came hope: I could teach my body to feel safe again.?

I started small. I began with simple practices like shaking out my arms and legs after a stressful moment to release tension. I tried journaling, not to analyze my thoughts but to let them flow without judgment. I experimented with humming, gentle stretches, and grounding techniques like walking barefoot on the grass. Yoga and walking, both gentle forms of movement, helped me find glimpses of my former self, occasionally pulling back the curtain, reminding me that version was still alive.?

And little by little, things began to shift. My shoulders didn’t feel as tight. The tension wrapping my head in a vice lessened. And for the first time in years, the nights started to hold more sleep, less anxiety.?

The most powerful lesson I learned was that stress doesn’t just disappear—it needs to be processed. And the way to do that is by working with your nervous system, not against it. It wasn’t until I began to understand the nervous system that the pieces started to fall into place. I learned that our bodies store stress in ways we don’t always recognize. Tight shoulders, tension headaches, and even insomnia can be signs that our nervous system is stuck in fight-or-flight mode—an ancient survival mechanism that doesn’t know how to turn off in today’s modern chaos.?

If you’ve ever felt like your body is holding onto stress, it’s not your fault. It’s simply your nervous system doing its best to protect you. But with a little patience & the right tools, you can teach your body to let go & find a new kind of calm—one that comes from deep within.

You're Not Broken, You're Protecting Yourself

If any part of my story resonates with you, know this: Your body isn't betraying you – it's trying to protect you. Those sleepless nights, the tension, the anxiety? They're all signs of a nervous system stuck in survival mode.?

If you’re struggling with sleep, chronic tension, or just feeling ‘off,’ you don’t have to go through it alone. Through my Mind-Body Detox program, I combine a proven course with 1:1 coaching to help you heal your sleep, calm your nervous system, & feel like yourself again. Together, we’ll create a plan tailored to you, so you can finally release the stress & reclaim your peace.

?>>Learn more at: https://theheartofhealing.online/coaching

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