The following is the opinion and analysis of the writer:
Each summer, my family takes advantage of our children's break from school to embark on a road trip. As much as I look forward to this tradition, an unwelcome visitor often sneaks along for the ride: workplace stress. I try everything in my power to leave it behind, but some years it sucks the joy right out of what should be a time of restful connection.
I first experienced this phenomenon years ago while teaching at an alternative school for 17- to 21-year-olds. Our unique student body often faced challenges like homelessness, substance abuse, and community violence. I treated each obstacle like a stone, asking students how I could help carry their load, then dutifully scooping that stone into my arms.
By the time May rolled around, the accumulated weight of these traumas was immense and exhausting. Then, on the night before graduation, I received news that a beloved former student had been killed. This wasn’t just another stone; it was a boulder, and I was utterly crushed. When my husband and I left for our road trip the following week, I couldn’t stop thinking about this devastating news and the difficult school year. I finally admitted the truth. I was struggling.
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At the time, I didn’t know there was a name for this experience: secondary traumatic stress (STS). Also known as “compassion fatigue,” it is defined as “the emotional duress that results when an individual hears about the firsthand trauma experiences of another.” While this term often applies to first responders and others who work with clients in crisis, I learned that STS can also impact educators in neighborhoods experiencing high levels of poverty and crime.
Over the past few years, however, it is not just select groups of workers who have witnessed repeated traumas. All of our communities have been affected by the pandemic, not to mention global conflicts, political and racial reckonings, and economic instability. In fact, since 2020, the World Health Organization reported a 25% increase in worldwide depression and anxiety. It’s no wonder some of us struggle to untangle ourselves from stress and take the breaks we so desperately need. So how do we begin?
After my difficult school year, it was days into our trip before I finally confronted my own emotions. While walking through the forest, I stumbled across a wooden staircase leading down to a stream. I descended the steps, closed my eyes, and imagined the stones I’d accumulated, each one associated with a particular student or event. With care, I mentally laid each stone down and said a few words of reflection and closure. When I finally climbed out of the ravine, my mind felt a bit clearer, my heart a bit lighter. This small act was the first step toward healing.
Many mental health professionals encourage similar ceremonies or rituals to process difficult periods. A person might choose to write about an experience, then bury the paper to symbolize leaving the event behind. Others might seek ceremonies from their culture or religion to process grief. Some may find it helpful to sort overwhelming thoughts into two categories: those that are within their locus of control and those outside of it. Then, they can focus on the areas they’re able to influence in order to feel empowered and regain stability.
Whatever the method, what’s most important is that we acknowledge the complicated emotions we carry and give ourselves permission to let them go. That's because all humans deserve to step away, rest, and recover from the stresses of everyday life. So whether your summer plans include travel, time with family, or simply quiet moments of reflection, I invite you to usher in the season by laying down the stones that you have carried for too long. Choosing what to embrace with your newly outstretched arms is where the real journey begins.
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Heather Mace is a contributor to the Arizona Daily Star and a teacher mentor in Tucson.

