I think I suffer from hypochondriasis, that curious syndrome wherein the individual—usually a medical student—perceives herself or others to be experiencing the symptoms of the disease(s) she is studying. I'm not a med student, but as the frequent editor of prescriptive health titles, I have a similar up-close view of far too many gory bodily functions and medical misfires. Read and write about diabetes long enough, and you will defend your hourly need for a snack as a legitimate blood sugar issue. Immerse yourself in the details of carbohydrate addiction and you will soon realize that these regular snacks are no doubt the source of your purported moodiness. You get the idea.

Recently, I wondered about the source of what I've come to call migraine aura. Years ago I had it as often as several times a week, but it was ultimately determined—by a humorless neurologist who didn't appreciate the expertise I'd gleaned from editing a book about headaches—to be related to my hormonal cycle. When I was done having babies, the episodes went away. Why again now?

I was also having a hell of a time sleeping. I was versed enough about anxiety to understand that lying there thinking about what might be happening in my eyeballs might be the issue, but I have to admit that I was ruminating at night about other things, too.

You see, I was experiencing perhaps the most hectic “season” of my working-mother life. In addition to my full-time job as an editor and the regular travel that role requires, I have young kids whose school had an outbreak of swine flu. Scrambling to stay above water, I sometimes worked right through lunch. It's not that I wasn't hungry, but I couldn't make the time to eat.

Add to all this the fact that I, like you, toil in an industry that everyone seems to think is endangered, and in an economy that can only generously be described as sluggish. Colleagues were laid off; publishers across the city reported colossal budget shortfalls. The nagging worry about my career was ever-present.

Then I started work on a book about stress and the ways our modern lifestyle has exacerbated the physical toll it takes. But instead of putting me in a tailspin, the book blessedly offered me a lifeline.

The doctor-author described stress as either acute or chronic. Acute stress is the “good” kind, the “fight or flight” trigger that helps us dodge the oncoming bus in the same way our ancestors outran saber tooth tigers. Chronic stress is triggered repeatedly with no time for rest. You dodge the bus, but then are late for work; your report is due, but you have to pick up the kids at daycare; you stay up late to finish the report and are tired the next day. You fuel this frenzy with processed foods, too much caffeine, doomsday news 24/7 and a never-empty inbox.

Unfortunately, the human brain can't tell the difference between the danger of the oncoming bus and the “danger” of deadlines or daily hassles. The physiological response is the same, but the cumulative result isn't pretty: in addition to chronic inflammation and headaches, your digestion can get out of whack and your immunity can become compromised.

I took the author's questionnaire and learned that both the hormonal rush of constant stress and my sleeplessness were likely the source of my recurring migraines. I was relieved to finally have a link between my symptoms and the way I was living my life.

Six months later, I have taken to heart the book's simple strategies. I observe good sleep hygiene. I eat anti-stress foods like cold-water fish and blueberries, and take several recommended supplements, such as vitamin B complex. I push back from my desk a few times a day and walk around the block for a few refreshing minutes.

The phone doesn't stop ringing, manuscripts still need editing, bills still need to be paid, publishing might be going the way of the dinosaur, and the flu is threatening yet again to close the kids' school. But I now see that my goal doesn't have to be to banish stress altogether. To use the metaphor of national security threat levels, I'm training myself to idle at yellow. My body now reacts to real emergencies as it is evolutionarily designed to do, and is less burdened by the physical and emotional pressures that everyday stress inevitably puts on my body. And not a moment too soon: I've been reading about menopause for a forthcoming book and that's given me plenty to worry about.