Stress Addiction

Dear Diary,

I am a Type B personality living in a Type A world, and for years, I didn’t realize how much this mismatch was slowly destroying my nervous system.

During COVID, I discovered something beautiful. Our family found a rhythm that felt like breathing—homeschooling at our own pace, evening walks that cleared my mind, dinner and hanging out with my husband. It was cozy, connected, and sustainable. For the first time in years, my nervous system could rest.

But then life shifted back to its demanding pace. The gentle rhythms that had felt so natural gave way to the relentless expectations of a world that never stops moving. I found myself once again caught in the current of constant motion, swept away from the peace I had tasted. And somehow throughout the years the amount of things I had to carry, the worries, and the pressure increased.

My body adapted the only way it knew how—by flooding itself with stress hormones. Adrenaline became my fuel. The constant pressure, the endless decisions, the weight of so many depending on me—it all required a heightened state just to function. And somewhere in that survival mode, my body learned to crave what was slowly destroying it.

Stress addiction is real. It’s not just about seeking thrills; it’s about becoming dependent on the very chemicals that are meant to save us in emergencies. When we live in perpetual crisis, our bodies forget how to exist in peace. We start to feel flat, restless, or purposeless without that familiar rush of urgency.

What’s particularly insidious is how our culture celebrates this. We’re praised for being “driven,” for thriving under pressure, for managing impossible loads. But underneath the achievement and the constant motion, our nervous systems are screaming for the rest they were designed to need.

Reading Dr. Aviva Romm’s Hormone Intelligence has opened my eyes to a profound truth: God designed our bodies with wisdom. The gentle rhythm I loved during COVID wasn’t laziness—it was my body functioning as it was meant to. The evening walks, the unhurried pace, the cozy connection—these weren’t luxuries but necessities for a nervous system created for relationship and rest.

Stormie Omartian writes about health God’s way, and Queen Afua in Sacred Woman teaches us to honor the sacred feminine wisdom within our bodies. Both authors point to the same truth: honoring our body’s need for peace isn’t selfish—it’s obedient. When we override our design with artificial stimulation, when we mistake adrenaline for energy and chaos for productivity, we’re not just harming ourselves physically. We’re rebelling against the very wisdom built into our cells.

The flesh doesn’t just lead us to death through the obvious pathways. It leads us there through the subtle addiction to what feels urgent over what’s actually life-giving. It convinces us that we need the stress, the stimulation, the constant motion to feel alive and valuable.

For me, learning to fight this addiction means learning to trust that God’s design for our bodies is not a limitation but a gift. It means choosing the wisdom of rest over the rush of adrenaline, even when everything in our flesh screams that we need the stimulation to survive.

In a world that worships busyness, choosing peace is an act of faith.

It’s believing that we were made for more than mere survival—we were made for the abundant life that flows from living in harmony with how we were created.

Shalom