Stress To Zest: New Book Explores Seven Common Stressors Impacting Human Mind

Have you ever wondered how stress, that relentless serpent, can be harnessed for your personal growth? In the labyrinth of life, the stress coils around us, threatening to drain us of our time, energy and clarity. But what if we could turn this adversary into an ally? Stress to Zest takes you on a journey to help you understand how seven common stress factors impact the human mind.

In this collection of stories set in diverse contexts across the globe, you’ll meet characters from all walks of life grappling with these stressors. Their journeys are not mere survival tales; they’re blueprints for transformation. Witness how they navigate the storm, find resilience and discover a newfound zest for life.

Here's an extract from Aritra Sarkar's Stress To Zest

Valentina threw out her arms. ‘That’s my life. There’s nothing I can do.’ She quickly changed into a short-sleeved black dress and sky-high Louboutin stilettos and rushed downstairs.

She squeezed herself into the backseat of the car. Her dress rolled up. Vicky—a tall blonde with skinny legs and breasts that were popping out of a golden slip dress—looked at her exposed legs and frowned. ‘Hey! What’s up with the thighs, babe? They look huge. Looks like you just did heavy squats or something.’

Rosie, a petite woman of African-American descent with surgically enhanced derrière and lips, rolled up the sleeves of Valentina’s dress and looked shocked. ‘V, your arms are so thick. Have you been lifting heavy dumbbells or what?’

Valentina could see Rosie’s absurdly defined abs through her low-cut crop top and wondered why these women even bothered with her. At that moment, Valentina recalled what had happened two months earlier.

It was the first day of her sophomore year at Miami University. The previous night, she had partied hard and crashed in bed at 5 a.m. At 8 a.m., she was awakened by the alarm. Half-asleep and hungover, Valentina staggered to the dining room and poured herself a glass of orange juice. Her mother—a petite, forty-five-year-old woman wearing a nurse’s uniform and a nametag that read ‘Florentina Perez’—was sipping from a cup of coffee. She put it down on the table and handed Valentina an envelope. Valentina tore it open and saw an invitation letter from the American Female Wrestling Association. Drowsiness dispelled, her eyes began to sparkle.

Dear Valentina,
Based on your superlative performance at the national high school championship two years ago, we are pleased to award you a wildcard entry into the regional selections of the American Female Wrestling Assocation (AFWA) championships, to be held in Miami this June. Should you qualify in the regionals, you’ll be selected to join our Federation as a fully paid member. You’ll earn an annual stipend of $100,000 plus benefits and be able to access opportunities to compete for professional trophies around the world. If you’re interested in this opportunity, please enroll on our website and pay the registration fee of $5,000. This amount will be fully refunded to you, should you fail to qualify.

Valentina read the fine print and looked out through the window. It’s been two years since I quit wrestling and joined the Miami University party scene. Why did I do that? Because I wanted to hang out with the ‘it’ crowd on campus. I wanted to be seen as popular and beautiful. I wanted to have a fashionable image too. But what did I get by compromising on my passion?

Florentina wondered what her daughter was worried about. She snatched the letter from her hand and read it. She set it down a moment later and looked at Valentina thoughtfully. ‘You know, I understand what you’re going through. I wanted to be a singer before you were born. But just before my big audition, your dad died at the construction site.’

She paused for a moment. ‘I was so overcome with grief that I couldn’t bring myself to attend the rehearsal. That was a lost opportunity to pursue my passion. Soon after, I found myself with all these bills to pay. My friends and relatives told me to get a qualification and find a skilled job. I listened to them and made up an excuse in my head that the pursuit of music was not a viable option. Today, after years of intensive training and work experience in nursing, I make a good living, but not a day goes by when I don’t think about what I could have achieved pursuing my passion.’ 

She stroked Valentina’s arm and smiled sympathetically. ‘There are moments in life when a window opens, ever so briefly. Those are the moments when we have to be brave and fly out towards the sun.’

Valentina looked at her mom with embarrassment, before diverting her gaze to outside the window. What did I get from these two years of college? Weekly hangovers. Naked strangers lying next to me in bed, pawing me all over. Opulent bedrooms littered with coke. Friends interested only in attending hot parties, being seen and photographed. Friends who only cared about making shopping expeditions to different malls  .  .  . buying expensive cosmetics, jewellery and clothing with money from some sugar daddy.

Florentina suddenly noticed a faint residue of white powder on Valentina’s lips and assumed that had come from the previous night’s exploits. Her eyes widened and she let out a gasp before quickly composing herself. Tissue in hand, she gently wiped off the tell-tale residue. ‘Baby, this isn’t you. You know that!’

Valentina choked back her tears. ‘No, Mom. You’re right. It’s peer pressure. I’ve felt it since high school. I have to look beautiful all the time. I have to be successful. I have to be popular. Right now, I feel so deflated . . . so hollow . . . like an empty piñata.’

‘Do you remember that day when you won the wrestling trophy? I was so proud of you. You were so happy.’ 

Valentina recalled that moment when the principal had garlanded her with the gold medal. She nodded. ‘Yes, I do. I still feel your pride and love. I still feel the love and appreciation of the school community; who for once, saw me for who I really am, a wrestler with great potential. But what did I do? I succumbed to my fear of exclusion and became what others wanted me to be—a glamorous party girl. Six months ago, I cashed my award of $2,000 to pay the advance deposit for a breast augmentation surgery. An operation I have to pay in full by the end of today.’

Florentina smiled and placed her hand on her forearm. ‘If that’s what makes you happy, then do it. But let me share a tidbit. Do you know what’s the most joyful moment in my life every month? No, not the quarterly visit to the tanning salon. It’s the monthly karaoke night at the old-age home where I work on the weekends. Why? Because on these nights, I get to sing my own songs. The ones I sang so many years ago as a crooner at bars in Tijuana, Mexico.’

‘Mom, thanks for reminding me what makes me happy. I’ll put the rest of my funds towards wrestling. Towards training, conditioning and registration. But I’ll have to do it in secret. 
None of my friends can ever learn about it.’

Florentina gave her a warm hug and laughed. ‘I know these girls. You think they can’t accept who you are. But actually, they can’t accept who they’ve become.

Extracted with permission from Stress to Zest: Stories and Lessons for Personal Transformation by Aritra Sarkar (Penguin Enterprise)