Riding in an elevator recently, I overheard a disturbing conversation. Three guys -- one short, one tall and one with blue spiky hair -- were discussing their sleep and study habits. The short guy declared, "I'm so tired. I've had exams all week. I only slept two hours last night."
The spiky-haired friend agreed. "Oh, I know. I had an exam every day this week, plus a paper due, and I'm doing these events for my frat. I pulled an all-nighter last night."
And the tall, skinny guy interjected, "An all-nighter? I haven't slept in three days! I have so much work to do. And I'm singing in two shows this semester, and I have crew practice every morning."
Sadly, this conversation was typical. Stress is an unavoidable fact of college life. Frequent deadlines, high standards and competition to beat the curve can create a pressure-cooker atmosphere. Moreover, college students are constantly being evaluated, often subjectively, and the evaluation results have supposedly dire consequences. Our success at Penn, we are told, determines our ability to get a job, our chance to go to grad school, our prospects in life and even how intelligent we are. In this environment, it's easy to see why my elevator buddies felt tense.
But what struck me about my companions was not that they were stressed (although they were), but that they seemed to be bragging about their stress. I've noticed that at Penn, people flaunt their stress as a point of pride. I hear them boast about their hectic schedules, their demanding classes, their time-consuming extracurriculars and their lack of sleep. Students discuss their time management struggles in language usually reserved for TV specials about orphans who overcame poverty, sexism and AIDS to become figure skating champions. They disguise their self-aggrandizing discussions as commiseration.
As a result, we live in a "culture of stress." In this culture, if you're not stressed, you're boring. You're not sufficiently important, interesting, popular or smart to fill your schedule with twice as many activities as can be completed in 24 hours. Stress is a measure of personal success, and discussing your stress is a convenient, veiled way to talk about how important you are.
In reality, though, stress is nothing to be proud of. First, if you need to boast about your coolness, I suggest that you're trying too hard. Second, although the body's stress response is sometimes useful -- for example, if you're being chased by a hungry mastodon -- it can also cause serious health issues. According to the Mayo Clinic, chronic stress causes elevated levels of adrenaline, cortisol and other hormones, leading to a host of problems. In addition to exacerbating existing conditions, stress dampens the immune system and increases the risk of heart attacks and strokes. Furthermore, stress can lead to weight gain, digestive problems, diabetes, depression, decreased libido and impotence. And it's been a long time since I heard someone brag about his impotence in an elevator.
The most frustrating thing about this problem is that it is frequently self-inflicted. In their quest to feel successful and fulfilled, Penn students take on as many jobs and activities as they can. As far as I'm concerned, if people find their multiple activities fulfilling, then that's wonderful. But when their packed schedules become taxing, it's frustrating to hear them complain about their stress, semester after semester, as though they bear no responsibility.
I admit that discussing stress can sometimes serve a useful purpose. The discussions may raise awareness of our pressured environment, especially of the "legitimate" stressors that are not self-imposed. And at times, the stress commiseration may provide support for those who feel overwhelmed. But it's important that, under the guise of "support," the discussions don't become a game of one-upmanship.
So, what can we do about our culture of stress? First, we need to reduce our self-inflicted anxiety. We should realize that our worth, intelligence and long-term success are not dictated by how much we take on as college sophomores.
Second, don't admire the stressed-out. A freshman friend recently asked me for time management tips after noting my participation in a variety of activities. I offered her the advice she requested, but a part of me cringed. A ridiculously packed schedule is not something to which one should aspire.
Finally, we must put a stop to the Stress Olympics. I admit that I sometimes participate. When a friend tells me about her stress, it's all too tempting to say, "Wow, that sounds tough. But let me tell you about my schedule. ..." In fact, however, a better response would be, "Gee, I'm sorry you're feeling overwhelmed. Have you ever tried exercising or meditating? Sometimes that works for me."
After my encounter in the elevator, I realized just how skewed Penn perspectives on stress really are. Boasting about your frequent all-nighters doesn't mean you're more talented or "in demand" than other people. It just means you're more stressed. And ultimately, that's nothing to brag about.
Jennifer Weiss is a senior Linguistics and Theatre Arts major from Los Angeles. War On Error appears on Wednesdays.
