There exists a chasmic difference between dealing with discomfort that you willingly choose to participate in and dealing with discomfort that is forced upon you. Choice changes everything. But, for something that’s so substantial, it’s really hard to notice.
How many of you have heard the phrases, “growth only happens outside your comfort zone” and “get comfortable with being uncomfortable”? I can see you nodding. Okay, cool.
Truths aren’t universal until you make them personal. And these comfort zone “truths” don’t feel so universal to me anymore. I still think they’re practical bits of motivational advice, but, I also know that they can unknowingly sow seeds of distrust and reenforce avoidant behaviors in oneself.
The underbelly of living outside one’s comfort zone is the belief that it prepares us for when actual discomfort inevitably hits. We can exercise, meditate, restrict our diets, live below our means, dopamine fast, take freezing cold showers and delay gratification till the cows come home. But all that stuff gets thrown out the window when shit really hits the fan. There are no preparations that can be made for the upheaval of one’s existence.
I did all that good uncomfortable stuff before I was diagnosed. I believed I was strong in every sense of the word. But when the paradigm shift of chronic leukemia was forced upon me, that strength meant nothing. Not only did it not help, but it also hurt. The unconscious belief that I was in some way prepared for it, or could have been prepared for it, became my biggest hindrance to accepting my newfound need for comfort.
On one level, the selected discomfort becomes safe and comfortable the moment you choose to do it. That doesn’t mean it’s not hard or totally comfortable. And it’s important that you go there and do those things. But you know somewhere inside of you that choosing discomfort is good for you. So what happens when you know that discomfort isn’t good for you? And not only is it not good, but it could also be a sign that something is seriously wrong? Like deadly wrong.
It’s a bit like reading. When you’re out of school you can choose to read anything you want. And that’s what makes it so enticing because there are no rules. But remember back in school when reading was forced upon you? No matter how good the book or story was reading sucked! Because it was required of you.
Can you see how it’s different? Can you see how dealing with selected discomfort is like setting yourself up to succeed? While the requirement of dealing with forced discomfort makes it feel like a burden?
Be wary of that drive to continually put things in your way. The sweet sugariness of accomplishment can be addicting.
In my case, that sense of accomplishment became my self-currency. It fueled me, which is okay, but it got to the point where I needed it. I had to earn my worth. So I developed comfort zone busting strategies, that turned into habits, that turned into beliefs, that eventually became this cyclical loop environment of having to prove something to myself. On the surface, these strategies were very healthy and beneficial, but the need itself was infected. I was hostile and downright destructive with myself when I didn’t earn. So when the real discomfort hit I had a horrific time making the adjustment.
It’s taken me almost two years to realize that this inability of mine to overcome the physical, mental and emotional toll CML puts on me is in no way a failure. And that feeling like I need to overcome it and turn it into this bright smiling, epiphany-having thing is just repeating exactly what I was doing before.
My subconscious goal since the diagnosis has been to become so in tune with myself that I could be calm and happy under any circumstances. And I do a really good job at that. I’ve made great strides. But working with that stuff subtly became a need to control and protect. It became another strategy of disconnecting myself from how I was actually feeling.
Do you know what really happens when the discomfort overwhelms and smacks me in the face? I run. I hide. I distract. I rage against the discomfort. I scratch and claw in search of something. In search of comfort, in search of security. I used to think this was weak. Now I know it’s fine. I’ll take whatever help I can get. It’s okay to make yourself temporarily forget. In fact, it’s a god-send when the discomfort is up close and personal.
Security is a sham. It’s a construct, yeah, for sure. But, just because something bad could happen at any time doesn’t take away from the preciousness of believing otherwise. Delusion is nice, in the right doses.
We think we want discomfort because that’s where growth happens. Until it’s permanent. When the actual hardship hits we’ll give anything to feel safe and comfortable again. What we really want is the experience and trust in ourselves that going through that shit gets us. We don’t want the actual experience. Cause it truly sucks, like a lot.
We need to feel safe and comfortable in our own skin. And when your body is attacking you from the inside out, safety is transient at best. Pain is literally a signal that says “yo, something ain’t right, you’re not safe”. The body responds by tensing right up and cranking the anxiety in an effort to sniff out the source. In my case, I know what the source is, and I’m doing everything I can to treat it. But the discomfort lingers as a feature not a bug of my treatment, which makes believing I’m treating the source inconceivable at times.
So the key really is finding that safe place within yourself. I have done and will continue to do the requisite work to find that place. I know that in the deepest, most caring part of my heart, I have an endless supply of love and compassion for myself. I’ve learned how to tap into that place and uncover that true essence. It takes time and effort because man does a lot of stuff pile on top of it. But I know it’s always there. Ahhh I’m safe. Try and find that place within yourself the next time you feel like shit. Say it out loud to yourself, and try your best to believe it, “I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe”, did you feel the tension dissipate?
I just had a big doctor’s appointment where I had to make a tough decision about my treatment plan. I worked the possible scenarios over and over again in my head. What I was doing was trying to anticipate, think through and figure out how I would feel if I made the decision or not. “Well if I do this, I’m going to feel this way and is feeling that way really worth it?” The interesting part of this was the realization that I have no clue or way to actually figure this out. I just have to do it, or not do it. And go from there.
I was trying to prepare for how I would feel in the future. There are certain things you should prepare for, sure. But using your anticipated future feelings as the only basis to make decisions in the present seems kinda bonkers. It’s paralyzing.
This framework acts under the belief that we somehow have the ability to accurately anticipate what we’ll feel like in the future. When the reality is we just don’t know.
It also says “I don’t trust you to be able to handle the repercussions of this when it actually happens.” It undermines your own ability to be present and act in your best interest when the time actually arrives. It’s trying to shield and protect yourself from something as if you can’t handle it. If you’re acting under the assumption of future feelings, I think it’s really important to question why you feel the need to do that. What are you trying to protect yourself from? And why are you so resistant to feeling that way?
It’s not so much getting comfortable with being uncomfortable as it is not freaking the eff out when true discomfort hits. It’s not about liking the discomfort or somehow morphing it into comfort. It’s about getting rid of the need to be comfortable and okay all the time. It’s about letting other people help you and hold some of the enormous weight your carrying. It’s standing on that shaky ground, knowing well that it could fall away at any second, and not closing off to it. And not feeling like your wrong or at fault for being on such shaky ground in the first place. It’s about feeling like shit and not having that affect the opinion you have of yourself. It’s about not feeling like your world is falling apart the very instant you feel something unwanted. It’s about having the courage to reach down into your dark, twisted heart and saying to yourself “I got you no matter what”.
We need to assume we’re safe. Otherwise, we’d be frozen in fear. I sense that we’ve disregarded and overlooked the benefits of feeling safe and comfortable. Yes, it’s true that there are great benefits outside of our individual comfort zones. But it’s dangerous to put the cart before the horse. I’ve done that and ended up chasing my own tail. Now that I know how to access that safety and comfort within myself, I’m starting to set my cart back up.
It’s so damn easy nowadays to unintentionally polarize everything. We’ve been taught that nothing good comes from the comfort zone. But that’s only if you think rest, recovery, peace of mind and well-being aren’t worth anything. I hated comfort so much that it’s taken me two years, and counting, to be okay with giving myself the rest, recovery and comfort that I now require.
One of the best things CML has taught me is how to lay in bed or on the couch for days at a time and not hate myself for it. No, I’m not joking. And yes I think that ability is incredibly valuable. My opinion of myself no longer hangs in the balance of the outside world. I’ve gotten so good and secure internally that I allow myself to feel bad. Yeah, the sadness, guilt, feelings of missing out and feeling like I got robbed still come up. But, so what? I know how to get out of the trap.
In a sense, trudging through this waist-deep muck has empowered me as nothing else could have. I’ve been told some of the worst shit ever. Yeah of course I blinked. And will continue to blink. I’ve gotten a glimpse of the end. It’s not some abstract idea that’s far off in the future, it’s right here, right now. I live with the potential end each and every day. CML had a 20% 5-year survival rate not long ago. Yeah, 4 out of 5 dentists would be freaking dead. And now it’s as high as 90%. I thank God and science as much as I can. But the complex weave of how this affects my life would sober anybody up real quick.
It’s forced me to stand strong on my own two legs and learn how to lovingly grapple with myself on a daily basis. It’s forced me to fully appreciate my comfort zone. It’s forced me to accept that there is nothing I can do to prepare myself if it goes downhill. But it’s also forced me to believe that I have the capacity to do anything.
So don’t feel bad about being comfortable. It might be just what you’re looking for.