The Permission Slip We All Need: Why We Must Get Intentional About Reducing Stress
When I was a second-year practicum student at a community mental health clinic, a senior psychologist I deeply respected—someone known for taking on very difficult cases—asked me a question that completely caught me off guard: "What kind of cases do you think would be hard for you?"
I was an eager intern trying desperately to prove my competence in an overwhelming clinic setting, surrounded by vulnerable clients dealing with severe, chronic mental illness. I had never even considered the question. Like a "good" student, I was putting immense pressure on myself to be comfortable with any case that came through the door. My supervisor must have sensed that internal panic. With a lighthearted, matter-of-fact smile, he gently said: "You know, it’s really good for us to know our limits. For instance, I wouldn’t want to work with a certain type of client. I could invest my money, go to therapy, and figure out why that type of case triggers me... but I don’t want to. So I just choose not to work with them as much as possible." I felt an immediate wave of relief wash over me. Even you?! It’s okay to just say I don’t want to?
He gave me permission to realize that knowing our limits isn't a moral failing. We all have a threshold, and he had simply made a conscious choice not to live with an unnecessary level of stress. I've always been grateful for that moment because it taught me to accept my own boundaries. Later, during my predoctoral internship at a hospital, our director held a similar philosophy: they deliberately kept interns away from heavy crisis cases, believing that if we were constantly drowning in crisis management, we wouldn't actually be able to learn. That protective stance felt revolutionary and gave me even more room to grow.
Those experiences really shaped my belief that stress isn't a badge of honor—it's a limit that needs to be managed.
Escaping the Burnout Trap
My first job out of grad school was grueling, and I remember thinking clearly, "This environment has to become less stressful over time, or it’s going to burn me out." Even though I knew I was resilient—and even though the shared hardship created a strong bond with my coworkers—making stress reduction a deliberate life goal became crucial. I didn't want to just get used to chronic burnout. I told myself, "I can handle this for a season, but not long-term."
In my work with high performers, I often see the exact opposite approach: people trying to outrun their anxiety or power through it, as if they have an endless battery. They are great at "powering up," but they struggle to find the "off" switch. They have a hard time simply stepping back and saying, "I don't like this, and it's too much." As my acupuncturist once pointed out, our work and stress levels really need to trend downward as we hit middle age. That is undeniably hard when you're juggling multiple responsibilities, but it's a vital target to keep in mind.
The Cost of Normalizing Overwhelm
Lately, I commonly hear about people working long after dinner, staring at screens late into the night, battling sleep issues, exhaustion, anxiety, and a low mood. To be honest, I think that is a completely predictable reaction to an unsustainable amount of stress—not just mental pressure, but the physical toll of eye strain, sitting for hours without breaks, and never having true downtime to unwind. In fact, it almost feels abnormal to sleep soundly and feel energetic through all of that.
We have normalized living in a constant state of low-grade emergency. But resilience shouldn't mean seeing how much strain you can take before snapping. We all need to write ourselves that same permission slip my supervisor handed me years ago. It is okay to look at your load and simply say, "This is too much, and I choose not to live like this." Acknowledging your limits without shame isn't quitting—it's the first step toward protecting your well-being.
About the author
Chiaki Sasaki, PsyD is is a licensed psychologist in California and New York who helps high achievers move from high-functioning to deeply fulfilled. Her work bridges clinical expertise with cultural depth and mind-body integration.