Jagged Little Pills: My Car Karaoke Catharsis and the Science of Completing the Stress Cycle

Have you ever found yourself belting Alanis Morissette at the top of your lungs, even years after Jagged Little Pill first hit the airwaves? I know I have. It doesn't matter how much time has passed; those raw emotions and powerful lyrics still resonate deep within me. Last week, I found myself in a car karaoke catharsis. The week had been decent, but I felt that familiar twitchiness – unsettled, angsty, anxious. In medical terms, my sympathetic nervous system was on high alert, preparing me for fight, flight, fawn, or freeze. As a physician, I tend to skew towards "fight," but I know my anxiety is simply trying to protect me. It's a primal response, deeply ingrained in our biology. After my impromptu Jagged Little Pill concert, relief washed over me despite the horrendous traffic. It wasn't until later that I realized I had stumbled upon a powerful tool for managing stress: completing the stress cycle.

This concept was brought to the current zeitgeist by the Drs. Nagoski, sisters and authors of Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle. They explain that our stress response doesn't end when the stressor disappears. Just like our ancestors trembled and shook after escaping a predator, our bodies need a way to process and release pent-up energy.

Imagine I’m a woman in an ancient tribe gathering food when a lion suddenly appears. I would have a massive sympathetic response, reflexively choosing an acute “freeze” to be silent and not to draw more attention to myself, followed by a “flight” to GTFO and hopefully save my own life. I flee to my village, where my community rallies to protect me and kills the lion. But just because the threat is over doesn’t mean my physiology immediately returns to baseline; I still have circulating catecholamines that need metabolizing. I might shake a bit, my muscles still ready to run, but my prefrontal cortex realizes that fleeing is no longer necessary. My friends gather around me, and I animatedly recount my story. They listen intently, gasping with surprise and hugging me in support at appropriate times, helping me see that I am safe now. And then, one of my friends says, “Well, we’ve got this dead lion here. We should make use of it, turn its hides into clothes, and cook its meat for dinner.” (I assume the last bit would happen, but I’m not sure if lion meat is super tasty, but this is just a thought exercise.) And then, the tribe's spiritual leader would say, “Well, we should have a party to thank the gods for keeping Jessie safe and providing us with this bounty.” Well, of course. But all of that is also helping me metabolize catecholamines. Eventually, after the skinning, butchering, cooking, decompressing with friends, and displays of gratitude, my body returns to a state of equilibrium, and my stress response is complete. One (of the very many) fantastic points that the Drs. Nagoski make is that our stress isn’t over when the stressor is over; it’s only over after our stress cycle has been completed.

In our modern lives, we often neglect this crucial step. We deal with stressors – caring for patients, insurance battles, parenting challenges – and then move on, expecting the stress to simply vanish. But it doesn't. It lingers within us, contributing to burnout and exhaustion. My car karaoke session wasn’t something I just did; it served a physiological need. My animal body realized I’d been through a stress, and it was looking for a way to metabolize lingering catecholamines and complete my stress response. Just like a tribe doesn’t have a loud party if there’s still danger, I’m certainly not going to draw attention to myself by scream-singing “Not the Doctor” (lol, the irony) if I’m still in danger. Speeding along I-65 on my way home, I didn’t have a tribe around me to reassure me that I was okay, but my body instinctively knew how to communicate to itself that I was okay. Pretty slick if you think about it.

The Drs. Nagoski remind us that completing the stress cycle isn't frivolous; it's essential for our well-being. We deal with our modern-day acute stressors and tell ourselves the stress is “done.” But we don’t give ourselves the opportunities to complete our stress cycles, only to continue feeling anxious (or angry, or exhausted). If you’re like me, you beat yourself up for feeling stressed because “the difficult thing is over.” Not only does it feel bad to beat myself up, it invalidates what my body is trying to tell me: just because the stress is over, does not mean the stress is done.

Where are you already completing your stress cycles? Are you a walker, jogger, or runner? Do you take a long shower after every shift or clinic day? Give yourself credit, and find ways to maximize the things you’re already doing. Where else does a stress cycle need to be completed in your day-to-day life? It’s not goofing off. It’s not frivolous. It’s physiology. For me, dancing to glorify the gods has evolved into channeling Alanis Morissette. Honestly, I think Alanis would approve.

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Finding Mercy From the Grip of Anxiety