Stress tells us that something is happening. Understanding work helps us understand why.
We call it stress
“I’m stressed.” We hear these words every day.
- A doctor says them after another weekend on call.
- A project manager says them before an impossible deadline.
- A teacher says them after a day of constant interruptions.
Different professions. Different situations. Yet the same word.
When we talk about mental health at work, stress is often the first concept that comes to mind. It has become our default language for describing almost any form of difficulty at work. We say we are stressed because there is too much to do. Because relationships have become tense. Because expectations feel impossible to meet. Because we can no longer produce the quality of work we believe people deserve. Stress gives us a way to name an experience that is often difficult to describe. But what if this very word also narrows our understanding? What if, by describing our experience simply as “stress”, we stop looking at the work itself? Is stress explaining what is happening at work or is it only describing one of its consequences?
Stress is a signal, not an explanation
Stress is an important concept. It reminds us that work is something we experience with our whole body. A demanding situation can accelerate our heartbeat. Our muscles tense. Our breathing changes. We may struggle to concentrate, feel exhausted, or remain mentally preoccupied long after the working day has ended. These reactions are not signs of weakness. They are part of how human beings respond when they perceive that something important is at stake.
The difficulty begins when we mistake the reaction for the explanation. Stress tells us that our relationship with a situation is becoming difficult or demanding. But it does not tell us why. The same physiological response can emerge from very different work situations: trying to meet incompatible deadlines, making life-or-death decisions, dealing with constant interruptions, carrying responsibilities that exceed one’s resources, or being unable to perform one’s work to the standard one believes is necessary.
The body tells us that something matters. It does not tell us what, in the work itself, is creating this experience. Understanding that difference is essential. When we stop treating stress as the explanation, we can begin asking a different question: What is this work asking a human being to sustain?
From stress to stress management
Once stress becomes the way we define the problem, something almost invisible happens : our attention shifts. If the problem is stress, then the solution naturally becomes stress management. We look for ways to regulate our emotions, improve our breathing, become more resilient, organize our time more effectively, or learn techniques to remain calm under pressure.
Many of these approaches can be genuinely helpful. They may reduce suffering, restore a sense of control, or help people navigate particularly difficult periods. They also carry an implicit assumption: that the problem lies primarily within the individual.
As a result, an important part of the picture often disappears:
- We stop asking what the work itself is asking of the person.
- We stop asking whether the demands of the situation are compatible with what a human being can realistically sustain over time.
Instead, the responsibility quietly shifts towards the individual, who is expected to adapt, cope, recover and continue. This is not simply a change in vocabulary, it is a change in perspective. And the way we define a problem inevitably shapes the kinds of solutions we are able to imagine.
What work is really asking us to sustain
So what changes when we stop looking only at stress? We begin to look at the work. We start looking at the activity itself, activity being different form the job description, the organizational chart. The activity is what the person is actually trying to accomplish, under what conditions, in which context, and at what human cost.
Think about the last time you said, “I’m stressed.” What were you actually trying to do? What mattered so much that your whole body reacted? What were you trying to protect? The quality of your work? A patient? A client? Your team? Your professional integrity?
Imagine a cardiac surgeon performing two complex heart operations in a single day. From the outside, we might simply conclude that the work is “stressful.” But this tells us very little about what the work actually requires. For hours, the surgeon must sustain an exceptional level of attention. Every decision matters. Every movement carries responsibility. Unexpected events must be recognized and addressed immediately. The work demands technical expertise, judgment, coordination with others, emotional regulation and continuous concentration. These are not abstract requirements: they are human capacities being mobilized. And every capacity has a cost.
But how often do we ask what it costs a human being to sustain this level of attention, responsibility and judgment, day after day. Attention is not limitless, responsibility is not weightless and judgment does not remain equally sharp indefinitely.
Yet we often speak about work as if these capacities could be called upon endlessly, without asking what it takes for a person to continue exercising them day after day. Perhaps this is the question we have forgotten to ask. Not simply, “Why am I stressed?” But rather, “What is this work asking me to sustain, and is it humanly possible to sustain it under these conditions?”
This question changes everything. It shifts our attention away from managing a symptom and towards understanding the relationship between a person and the work they are trying to do.
Looking at work opens new possibilities
Once we begin to understand work differently, new possibilities emerge. The question can shift from “How can I manage my stress better?” to “What, in this work, needs to be understood, discussed or transformed?”
This is a profoundly different conversation. Some questions remain personal. A person may discover new ways of organizing their work, protecting moments of recovery, or recognizing their own limits. But many questions cannot be answered by the individual alone, they invite a collective reflection, without assigning blame.
- Can the workload be discussed?
- Are the expectations realistic?
- What does it actually mean to be constantly available?
- What happens when interruptions become continuous?
- What conditions are necessary for people to maintain the level of attention, judgment or responsibility that their work requires?
Work is never produced by an individual in isolation. It always takes place within a broader system of relationships, organizational choices, professional standards and material conditions.
Looking at work in this way relieves people of carrying the entire burden of the problem on their own. At the same time, it does not reduce everything to “the organisation” either. Instead, it shifts the focus towards the relationship between a person and the conditions under which their work is carried out. This is where new possibilities for action begin to appear for individuals, for teams, managers and organisations.
And often, simply making the work visible changes the conversation. People are no longer speaking only about how they feel, they begin to speak about what they are trying to do, what it requires, where the difficulties arise, and what could realistically be changed.
Rethinking mental health at work
Stress matters. It tells us that something in our relationship with work is demanding, difficult or no longer sustainable. But stress is only the beginning of the story. If we stop there, we risk asking people to adapt to situations we have never taken the time to understand. Before asking people to become more resilient, manage their emotions or cope more effectively, we may need to ask a more fundamental question: What is the work asking them to sustain?
When we make this work visible, we create the possibility of thinking differently about how work is organized, supported and experienced.
Stress deserves our attention, but work deserves our understanding. Perhaps the question is not how we can better manage stress, but how we can better understand work.
Mental health at work cannot be understood independently of the work itself. By stating to understand the work that people are trying to do, we begin to understand what supports—or undermines—mental health at work.
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