Table Of ContentTAKE YOUR LUNCH BREAK
TAKE YOUR LUNCH BREAK
HELPFUL TIPS FOR RELIEVING WORK-
RELATED STRESS
MASSOMA ALAM CHOHAN
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All rights reserved.
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Helpful Tips for Relieving Work-Related Stress
ISBN
978-1-63676-855-7 Paperback
978-1-63730-187-6 Kindle Ebook
978-1-63730-299-6 Ebook
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The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or other professional advice or
prescribe any technique as a form of diagnosis or treatment for any physical, emotional, or
medical condition. The intent of the author is only to o�er information of an anecdotal and
general nature that may be part of your pathway to well-being. In the event you or others use
any information or content in this book, the author assumes no responsibility for the direct or
indirect consequences. The reader should consult their medical, health, or other professional
before adopting any of the suggestions in this book or drawing inferences from it.
CONTENTS
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C������ �: T�� F����� �� W���
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C������ ��: M������� B������
C������ ��: E������ Y��� M������
C������ ��: S����� M��������� H����� �� A�����
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In the Name of God, the Most Bene�cent, the Most Merciful.
All the praises and thanks be to God.
To all those with anxiety, I see you and I hear you.
To my beloved parents, Hyder and Unsar, for always being my biggest supporters and my
number one fans.
To my siblings, Monis, Mohammad, and Fathima, for always having my back.
To my husband, Omar, who accepted me in my worst days and loved me anyway.
To my children, Rayaan and Amira, this one is for you.
“One day you will tell your story of how you overcame what
you went through and it will be someone else’s survival guide.”
—B���� B����
INTRODUCTION
“Massoma, it’s unacceptable that you’ve been coming in to work
late and leaving early,” my boss said and lowered her horn-
rimmed glasses to slightly above her nostrils, her eyes peering
over. In her perfect pencil skirts and no-nonsense attitude, she
reminded me of Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada.
I gulped. This was my annual performance evaluation for a
nonpro�t startup where I had wanted to work and make a
di�erence in the world, but instead I felt de�ated. I was afraid to
speak, fearful that a tremble in my voice would uncover my
trepidation, “I-I do all my—”
“Optics are key. Your coworkers are complaining you’re not here
when they are.” She crossed her arms and looked at me
expectantly.
It’s true I would come to work late and leave early—not because I
was lazy, but because I wanted to escape the workplace
environment (I would make up or do more work at home). A few
times, I broke down at work and started crying. I was lucky to
have some supportive coworkers who were there to console me. I
felt so embarrassed and annoyed that I had let myself cry at
work, but I really couldn’t help it.
There was no way I could possibly discuss this with my boss. I
admired her authority and presence so much, and she seemed
like everything I wasn’t. People listened to her when she spoke.
In contrast, I was timid and soft-spoken. I wanted to be more like
her and not be pushed around by my emotions. I would get
peeved by my feelings. I was almost afraid of her, and I felt it was
impossible to show her my vulnerability.
She also told me some of my work wasn’t up to the standards she
had. I felt like crying after the meeting, but I held it in until I got
home, where I collapsed to the �oor in tears. My performance
evaluation gave me even more anxiety than I already felt. As a
straight-A student, my poor work performance did not align
with my self-image. I wanted to be the best, but I was falling
short.
My anxiety followed me everywhere, including the workplace,
and a�ected my productivity, attention span, and work quality. I
felt anxious on my twenty-�ve-minute commute on the highway
to work, then getting on the elevator and going up to a higher
�oor awakened my fear of heights. My heart would race as I
would try to meet deadlines, and the amount of work I had to
complete was overwhelming. I would eat lunch at my desk while
working—almost everybody did; it was the job culture there. I
hardly took any breaks or left my desk. My work station was
messy, strewn with papers and �les. You could see from my desk
I was disorganized, and my mind was frantic.
Before I spoke in meetings, my hands would get cold and
clammy, and my legs would shake. I would get hot and sweaty,
and my mouth would become dry. I never thought it was possible
to feel cold and hot simultaneously, but here I was. I would
always worry about whether my work was good enough, if I was
good enough, if I said the right words, if I sounded smart or
stupid. My worries greatly impacted my performance. My
anxiety hindered my growth, and my stress over my productivity
made me perform poorly.
I knew I needed to make changes. I worked incredibly hard on my
anxiety. This wasn’t how I wanted to live my life or how I wanted
to spend my time at work. Desperately searching for some kind
of “cure” for my anxiety, I started reading countless self-help
books. I went to a therapist weekly. I tried cognitive behavioral
therapy as well as other therapies while taking anti-anxiety
medications.
All of these resources helped my anxiety, and I did start to feel
better, but my anxiety was still there, lingering over me like a
black cloud. I would obsessively think about how di�cult my life
was, and my anxiety was becoming a core part of my identity. My
mind was always racing. I believed I would always have this
crippling anxiety. Despite all my e�orts to try to �nd some
solution, nothing helped.
After nine years of being in therapy, being on medications, and
reading many books, something �nally clicked.
I �nally overcame my anxiety.
T�� R���� �� M� A������
An essential part of overcoming my anxiety was understanding
where it stemmed from.
“Your daughter has a slim chance of survival,” the doctors told
my parents. I was �fteen years old, hospitalized for a systemic
illness called acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS). Both
of my lungs were �lled with �uid, and I couldn’t breathe without
a ventilator. A central venous catheter inserted into my neck
delivered drugs straight into my bloodstream, and you can still
