The academic year of 2023/24 is coming to a close. I have mixed feelings.
On the one hand, I’m proud of various accomplishments over the past 12 months. During this time, I’ve been president of the Canadian Political Science Association, which has been a tremendous honor and a career highlight.
On the other, it has been a year of personal suffering. Afflictions have included debilitating migraines, gastritis, and shingles. The brain, stomach, and skin have become organs of communication, telling me – sometimes screaming at me – that I need to slow down and stop stressing.
Yet this isn’t the hardest I’ve worked. This is not the most stressed I’ve been. When I was completing my Ph.D., I was working 9 or 10 hours every day. In fact, throughout the whole six years, I rarely took breaks. The stakes were high, having invested so much time, energy, and money into my studies, and the academic job market was tough. That anxiety was existential. Almost 20 years later, I’m a full professor at my undergraduate alma matter, SFU. In academia, that’s hitting the jackpot. Professionally, I have few substantial worries. Why then am I so vulnerable to stress?
The key variable for my trifecta of stress-related ailments is age. I am a young 55-year-old, but I am still 55.
The turbulence of reaching menopause seems to be behind me. Although I’ve come out the other side liberated from wicked hormonal cycles, I’m easily exhausted. I need more sleep and frequently cannot make it through the day without a nap. My migraines, which I’ve had periodically since adolescence, are more easily triggered by bright light. My nervous stomach more readily flares with too much coffee or wine. My skin is drier and more prone to itchiness, which can trigger shingles. Like so many of us, I’ve lived with this mostly dormant virus since a childhood bout of chicken pox. And, like so many of us, as I’ve aged, my physical resilience has diminished. This is especially true with respect to fending off the symptoms of stress.
Stress is a killer.
Fortunately, there are many resources to help stave it off. Here are a few that have been working for me:
Breath: Rest and relaxation are the antidote to the nowness of modern life, and breathing is the pathway to both. I’ve recently taken a couple breath sessions with @Tofino_breath_and_meditation, which have been restorative, even rejuvenating. Led by gifted yogini Laura Heininger, these sessions have provided me with exercises to slow down and regulate my emotional reactions in the moment. Just being aware of our breathing, taking a few seconds to linger in the in and out of our breath, can instantaneously reduce stress.
Fur Babies: Puppies, kitty cats, capybaras, and prairie dogs are not only cute; their company can stimulate warm fuzzy feelings, which in turn alleviate stress. I don’t have pets, but I have Instagram. This is the one and only gift of social media: Streams of goofy mountain dogs, affectionate orange cats, and steam-bathing capybaras. If that’s not enough to get yourself feeling the love, check out @poppy_the_prairie_dog. With three-limbed Paxton, Poppy sparks good vibes every time I watch a reel.
Books: I love autobiography. Favorites include Patty Smith’s Just Kids and William Finnegan’s Barbarian Days: A Surfing Life. But recently I turned to the magical realism of 25-year-old K-Ming Chang. Sinking into her Organ Meats: A Novel enabled me, momentarily, to forget the pain of my kneecap shingles slowly crusting over. Her writing beautifully articulates the gross and visceral, the touching and hilarious. If you feel trapped in your achy body, give it a read. It’s a trip, at once tethered to the corporeal and open to limitless imaginaries.
Glide: If you’re able, get some good glide. There’s something about the feeling of a freewheel spinning below you, under a saddle or underfoot, that is deeply soothing. If riding a bike or skateboard isn’t your speed, try a swing in a local park. Or go for a swim at the community center. For me, the magic of the glide is the balance between physical exertion and passive motion. But good glide doesn’t have to involve movement. Try, for example, lying on your back, with your butt pressed into the corner of the floor and wall, and your legs pushed straight upward. This classic hatha position (aka “legs up the wall”) stimulates that sense of physical relief after an exertion. You can easily intensify this feeling by sticking a yoga block or a book under your sacrum. It feels so good.
I don’t regret my professional decisions of the past year, even if they have taken a physical toll. In many ways, it has been a year of engagement and growth. I’ve matured, and I’m very grateful for that. But it is time to listen to my body, to slow down, and take it easy. It’s time for a good long nap.