Have you ever felt like you couldn’t handle the pressure anymore? I felt that way a year ago. My life seemed out of control. I was always in a rush, always late, always taking on too many projects and trying to handle too many demands. But I never accepted it. I always attributed my frequent stress to the millions of things I had going on, or my nervous energy. But after a while it started to affect me both physically and emotionally.

It was finals week, and as usual I was stressed. I couldn’t calm down; my mind was full of worries. I was trying to concentrate, but my brain wasn’t obeying me anymore. My thoughts were all confused. I had problems sleeping and was tired all the time. I still didn’t realize this was really important but my body did. I began to lose weight rapidly. When I started to have terrible headaches and digestive problems, my mom grabbed me and, without letting me say a word, took me to the hospital.

I had been afraid of hospitals ever since I was young, probably because as a brain surgeon, my dad spent all of his time there. I hated the smell of the corridors; they smelled like sickness mixed with strong medicine and detergent.

We sat down to wait. When my name was finally called, a pain in my chest was killing me. The nurse took me to the neurology corridor and I was finally in the examination room on a bed.

First my heart rate was checked. The doctor didn’t seem happy with what he found. His serious face made me even more anxious. He explained that my heartbeat was irregular and was the cause of the pain in my chest. I was feeling as if the room lacked enough oxygen. I was breathing with difficulty, so they brought an oxygen mask.

After a while, a cardiologist arrived. The doctors were suspicious of me having coronary heart disease. After some tests, he told me I was most likely having episodic acute stress. I didn’t even know what that meant. He explained that it was my body’s reaction to my exhausting work schedule, perfectionism, and mainly because of the stress I had created. He added that I was pushing my body too hard, and it had lost its ability to cope. Stress had become a threat to both my physical and emotional well-being.

The doctor gave me some medicine and put me on a recovery program. I was supposed to avoid stress and give myself time to relax. Now, I don’t panic anymore during a presentation, while writing an essay, or studying for midterms, because I know I can stand it. Life is tough, and stress is just something we make up to make our lives tougher.