It’s garbage day, and I’ve decided that I can do without comfort.
Each and every one of us has had a brilliant scheme shot down by a would-be accomplice who’s sole excuse for refusing to participate was those adventure-crushing words, “I’m not comfortable with that.”
Discomfort is a signal that we have reached a boundary. But what if we decided to never be uncomfortable? At some point, we would limit ourselves entirely. Life comes with a certain amount of discomfort. Think about growth. Children actually experience growing pains as their little bodies destroy and rebuild themselves from infancy through adulthood. Growth is uncomfortable.
I’m sure there are outside limits to the amount of discomfort we should be willing to experience, but I am starting to think there are inside limits, too. There is actually a limit to how comfortable I am willing to be.
My back always hurts. A bit. I don’t think about it all the time, but occasionally I am aware of the dull ache that is part of my everyday life. Now, I could eliminate the pain entirely. The miracle of modern medicine allows us to decide, for the most part, how comfortable we want to be. I could legally or illegally numb my pain, but I don’t. I prefer to be right here in the world with all of my aches and pains most of the time.
Every few days I take Advil or drink enough to escape the pain, and it is relaxing. Most of the time, however, I’m just taking turmeric and avoiding inflammatory foods and trying my best. Whenever I hear the words, “wear comfortable shoes” I cringe. I know that anything I’d have to wear comfortable shoes for, I’m probably also going to need a drink for.
I don’t want to be numb, because a little bit of pain is okay. Pain reminds me that I shouldn’t do things that might make my back worse. Discomfort is our friend, it wants to make sure that physically and emotionally, we know our boundaries and are taking care of ourselves.
Some discomfort is good, and represents growth, and we can’t go through life avoiding discomfort. We can’t be comfortable all the time, we have to accept a certain level of discomfort, give up the idea that we can control everything, and let the universe do what it wants to do.
As we tell the stories of our lives, we are most proud of the discomfort that we have survived. Why are people so proud when they climb Mount Everest? Because it’s really fucking uncomfortable. Great things come with intense discomfort. To avoid it would be to avoid adventure, growth, and probably most people.
I may never again be completely comfortable even one day in my life, but that’s perfect. I don’t want to be. My plan is to be nervous, excited, surprised, exhausted, interested, destroyed and rebuilt just like a child’s bones as she grows. I’m sending away comfort, I don’t need it for anything.
Each and every one of us has had a brilliant scheme shot down by a would-be accomplice who’s sole excuse for refusing to participate was those adventure-crushing words, “I’m not comfortable with that.”
Discomfort is a signal that we have reached a boundary. But what if we decided to never be uncomfortable? At some point, we would limit ourselves entirely. Life comes with a certain amount of discomfort. Think about growth. Children actually experience growing pains as their little bodies destroy and rebuild themselves from infancy through adulthood. Growth is uncomfortable.
I’m sure there are outside limits to the amount of discomfort we should be willing to experience, but I am starting to think there are inside limits, too. There is actually a limit to how comfortable I am willing to be.
My back always hurts. A bit. I don’t think about it all the time, but occasionally I am aware of the dull ache that is part of my everyday life. Now, I could eliminate the pain entirely. The miracle of modern medicine allows us to decide, for the most part, how comfortable we want to be. I could legally or illegally numb my pain, but I don’t. I prefer to be right here in the world with all of my aches and pains most of the time.
Every few days I take Advil or drink enough to escape the pain, and it is relaxing. Most of the time, however, I’m just taking turmeric and avoiding inflammatory foods and trying my best. Whenever I hear the words, “wear comfortable shoes” I cringe. I know that anything I’d have to wear comfortable shoes for, I’m probably also going to need a drink for.
I don’t want to be numb, because a little bit of pain is okay. Pain reminds me that I shouldn’t do things that might make my back worse. Discomfort is our friend, it wants to make sure that physically and emotionally, we know our boundaries and are taking care of ourselves.
Some discomfort is good, and represents growth, and we can’t go through life avoiding discomfort. We can’t be comfortable all the time, we have to accept a certain level of discomfort, give up the idea that we can control everything, and let the universe do what it wants to do.
As we tell the stories of our lives, we are most proud of the discomfort that we have survived. Why are people so proud when they climb Mount Everest? Because it’s really fucking uncomfortable. Great things come with intense discomfort. To avoid it would be to avoid adventure, growth, and probably most people.
I may never again be completely comfortable even one day in my life, but that’s perfect. I don’t want to be. My plan is to be nervous, excited, surprised, exhausted, interested, destroyed and rebuilt just like a child’s bones as she grows. I’m sending away comfort, I don’t need it for anything.
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