How I Manage Stress: Step 1 – Don’t. Step 2 – Cry.

Let me be completely honest with you: I am not a paragon of calm. I’m not the person who meditates at dawn or takes a quiet moment with a cup of herbal tea when the pressure gets too high. When stress knocks on my door, I pretend not to hear it. I turn off the lights, hide under a blanket, and hope it goes away. Spoiler alert: it never does.

This article is titled “How I Manage Stress: Step 1 – Don’t. Step 2 – Cry.” It sounds like a joke—and maybe it is—but like all good jokes, there’s a painful grain of truth beneath the laughter. Because for a long time, that was how I managed stress: I avoided it until it consumed me, then broke down when it inevitably caught up.

And yet, in that breakdown, I learned something important: sometimes, crying is managing. So let me walk you through my not-so-graceful but oddly effective journey through stress, from total avoidance to an emotionally healthier place—one ugly cry at a time.

Step 1: Don’t (Manage It, That Is)

Avoidance is a tried-and-true coping mechanism—emphasis on “coping,” not “solving.” When I first started adulting (read: paying bills, showing up to work, answering emails I didn’t understand), I quickly discovered that life is basically a conveyor belt of low-grade panic. My instinct? Pretend everything is fine.

Stress about deadlines? Push them to the last minute and convince yourself you “work better under pressure.”

Stress about relationships? Ghost people. They’ll probably forget you exist anyway, right?

Stress about health? WebMD once told me I had two weeks to live, so I stopped checking.

Avoidance was my superpower. The problem was, it didn’t make the stress go away. It just moved it into my body, my sleep, my relationships. I started getting stress migraines. My appetite would vanish or come back with a vengeance at 2 a.m. My chest felt tight all the time, like I was constantly bracing for bad news.

It’s strange: you can ignore stress in your mind, but your body keeps score. And eventually, it demands attention.

Step 2: Cry

The tipping point would always come at the worst possible time—usually somewhere stupid, like a grocery store or office bathroom. One small thing would go wrong, and suddenly I’d be full-on sobbing over expired almond milk or a printer jam.

At first, I was ashamed of these breakdowns. I told myself I was weak. But over time, I began to notice something: I always felt better after crying.

Not fixed. Not magically serene. But better—lighter, even. Like some emotional garbage had been cleared out. Crying wasn’t a failure of my coping strategy. It was the coping strategy.

Turns out, tears aren’t just melodrama. They’re biology. Research shows that emotional crying helps release stress hormones like cortisol and can trigger the production of endorphins, your brain’s natural painkillers. Crying is quite literally therapeutic.

I started giving myself permission to cry—without guilt, without judgment. And in doing so, I learned to sit with my feelings instead of stuffing them down like bad leftovers.

Step 3 (Optional But Recommended): Admit You’re Stressed

Here’s a revolutionary idea: instead of pretending you’re fine when you’re not, try telling someone the truth.

“Hey, I’m kind of overwhelmed right now.”

That sentence changed my life. It’s small, but mighty. Once I started being honest about my stress, I noticed two things happened:

People related to me more. Turns out, everyone is stressed. No one has it all together. And admitting that gave others permission to be real too.
I stopped feeling like I had to carry everything alone. Sometimes, just saying “I’m struggling” lifted the weight. Even when no solution was offered, being heard helped.

Of course, being vulnerable isn’t easy, especially if you’ve been taught to power through everything. But vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s connection. And connection is one of the most powerful stress antidotes out there.

The Real Management Begins Here

Okay, here’s the twist: crying and not coping was my stress management method—but it was also the beginning of real change. Because once you allow yourself to feel what you’re feeling, you can begin to figure out what you need.

So if you’re where I was—somewhere between total burnout and pretending everything’s fine—here are a few things I’ve learned about moving forward from Step 2:

1. Know Your Stress Signals

Stress doesn’t always announce itself with flashing lights. Sometimes it’s subtle: irritability, insomnia, forgetfulness, emotional numbness.

Learn what your personal signals are. For me, it’s when I stop replying to texts or start saying “I’m just tired” every time someone asks how I am. That’s usually code for “I’m one minor inconvenience away from a meltdown.”

Once you recognize the signs, you can intervene before you hit rock bottom.

2. Build a Basic Toolkit

I’m not talking about an elaborate self-care routine involving sage and sound baths—though if that works for you, great. I’m talking about simple, grounding strategies that work when you’re falling apart.

Go outside. Seriously. Fresh air does something to your nervous system.
Drink water. Dehydration masquerades as existential despair more often than you’d think.
Write it down. Journaling doesn’t have to be poetic. Just get the swirl of thoughts out of your head.
Move your body. Even a short walk helps shake off nervous energy.
Breathe on purpose. It sounds ridiculous, but five deep breaths can interrupt a spiral.

These tools aren’t cure-alls, but they help create enough space for you to breathe—figuratively and literally.

3. Stop Waiting for the Big Fix

A huge part of my stress used to come from waiting for life to get “less stressful.” I thought peace would come when I got a better job, or found the right partner, or finally became the person who folds their laundry right after drying it.

But the truth is, there is no stress-free version of life. The job, the house, the partner—they all come with their own chaos. Life doesn’t calm down; we learn how to move through it better.

That shift in mindset—from “I need to eliminate stress” to “I need to learn how to live with it”—changed everything for me.

4. Therapy Helps (No Shame, All Gain)

Therapy isn’t just for crises. It’s for learning your patterns, developing healthier coping mechanisms, and getting an outside perspective that isn’t your overworked, catastrophizing brain.

If therapy isn’t accessible, try support groups, online communities, or mental health apps. Just don’t try to carry it alone.

You’re not broken for needing help. You’re human.

5. Redefine “Strong”

We live in a culture that worships resilience—but often defines it as “never showing emotion” or “toughing it out.” That’s not strength. That’s repression.

Real strength is acknowledging when you’re at your limit. Real strength is asking for help, setting boundaries, canceling plans when your mental health is in the red. Real strength is sobbing on the floor and getting back up anyway.

Every time I cry and don’t apologize for it, I reclaim a little more of that strength.

Final Thoughts: Yes, You Can Still Cry

So no, I haven’t mastered stress. I still panic. I still cry. But I no longer see those things as failures. They’re part of my process. They’re signs that I care deeply, that I’m stretched, that I’m alive.

Sometimes “not managing” stress is actually the first step in figuring out what your unique management style looks like—because we all process things differently.