Unlocking Life Experiences: What No One Tells You About Discomfort

“How are the books coming?” My amazing Thai masseuse, Kathy, asks me as she works to unwind the many tight places my body seems to hold.

“Good, I guess. Book one I made so many mistakes! I mean I held a book launch and I didn’t even have any books! Not to mention there were no page numbers. And the grammatical errors! I don’t know what I’m doing. Everyone’s been pretty gracious about it, though,” I reply, my cheeks turning a bit red as I flush from the embarrassment of my confession. “It was mortifying.”

“No. It was uncomfortable. There’s a difference,” Kathy responds, imparting her vast store of knowledge I wish I could pocket and carry with me everywhere I go. “Now, it's less uncomfortable and every time it gets easier. Don’t sell yourself short. A lot of people can’t ever find comfort in the uncomfortable.”

And she says no more, quietly allowing her hands to do their magic while my brain does what it always does at times like this; place the information into a corner of my brain to mull on later.

Later has arrived.

And I think it’s because it appears an important person in my life is making life decisions to avoid discomfort.

And now I see what Kathy was saying.

Now, don’t get me wrong. The final conclusions are perfectly acceptable. Nothing crazy. Just, well, odd.

And digging deeper, I realize the choices are being based on “feelings.” Anxiety. Panic. Distress. Or rather how a situation makes them feel or could make them feel. And to avoid it, a choice is made.

Even though we all know feelings are often liars.

So, the situation has brought me back to my conversation so long ago with Kathy.

But I get it. And I’m not saying anything negative about this particular coping mechanism. We all have them. Ways to avoid feeling like we don’t belong.

For me it’s about moving from the title of nurse to author.

This is how it generally works for me:

I’m super excited by a new idea. I write. I love my plot. I love my characters. I think it's fabulous and I can’t wait for it to print. Then I start getting this queasy feeling in my stomach as I send it to the editor. I get through that and it's not terrible. Then the proof-reader. No opinions, just corrections. Next, it’s a few people I love and who love me. They are nice. Now its printed and it's time to sell it. And everything in me wants to curl up in a ball and forget the entire thing. If I don’t sell it then I won’t get reviews and feedback. I don’t have to face people’s opinions about my craft. I can live a life of peace. Why do I do this to myself every time?

The panic is very real.

Every instinct in my body tells me I shouldn’t move past my fear, but I want this experience more than I am scared of it.

I enter in the phase of transition.

And I console myself knowing one thing for certain: it is only a phase.

And once my nervous system settles down, I am able to see past the initial “icks” to my favorite part of publishing.

The people who enjoy my writing. I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. But it's enough to keep me moving forward and trying again.

But it's that stage I think we so often want to run from.

The transition phase of discomfort.

I know I want to.

Every single time.

But I want the experience more. And every time I get more comfortable. More confident. More capable.

That is the point, isn’t it?

We all seek certainty. There is nothing wrong with it. But if we are missing experiences in order to cope, maybe we need to rethink our approach and embrace the discomfort.

Find peace there...comfort in the discomfort.

So easy to say and so difficult to do.

But worth every moment of growth.