When Discomfort Becomes Comfort

There’s no denying that growth is usually accompanied by discomfort. But what if that discomfort becomes the new comfort?

Take a seasoned mechanic, for instance. Someone adept at repairing a specific type of engine likely struggled with their first few. But after fixing ten, or maybe a hundred, they became skilled. That’s where the bulk of their growth happened. However, at some point, that growth plateaus. And we rarely hear of mechanics who only work on one engine type anymore—because the industry keeps evolving. Those who survive (and thrive) are the ones who adapt to new engine designs and, more importantly, do what automation still can’t replicate. The common pattern among them is that they kept challenging themselves with new problems to solve.

When we start learning something new, the beginning is the hardest. For someone who’s never been to a gym, the toughest part is going from 0 to 1—from not showing up at all to showing up even twice a week. I was that person once. And eventually, I reached a point where going five times a week wasn’t a big deal. I was doing the same exercises, more or less. It wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. Sure, I could’ve pushed heavier weights, done more reps, tried new variations. But I realised those wouldn't challenge me—or help me grow—as much as doing something completely new. Like learning parkour, something I know nothing about.

I’m not denying the benefits of regular exercise. If anything, I love them. But if you don’t have a very specific goal, there might be better ways to get those benefits—ways that could be more fun, and engage your brain as well as body. In my case, my goal has been to train holistically. So I paired running and cycling with lifting—something I still do. There's a long road ahead, and I can follow this path for years. But a question popped up recently: Is this still making me uncomfortable in a way that forces me to override my defaults and do something differently? Because that’s where real evolution happens.

To some extent, yes. I have a few specific goals, and I know the path forward won’t be easy. There will be challenges, and they will bring growth. But what about other parts of my life? That question is what led me to write this. Am I really challenging myself in ways that stretch me? The answer wasn’t a strong yes. So I took it as a no. I want to feel confident about that yes—but I don’t yet. And that made me wonder—why am I seeking discomfort in the first place?
There’s a difference between seeking discomfort and questioning comfort. I think comfort can quietly cripple us. The trickiest part is that we might be doing things others find hard—like lifting or running, or even journaling—and take pride in them. But those things may still sit comfortably within our zone. And when that happens, we can get stuck. Not because we’re lazy, but because we’re no longer evolving.

For example: I recently decided to start learning Deutsch. I tried a few times and then...stopped. It’s uncomfortable. I procrastinate for all the classic, crappy reasons. It’s still up on my website under “things I’m doing”—which makes me feel a little ashamed, but also reminds me of my missing self-accountability (everything else on the website is true, I promise 😅).

While we may take pride in doing what we’re good at, it’s worth asking: What is it that I need to be doing, but am not?
There’s a saying—you’re either running toward something or running away from something. (I’m paraphrasing.) What are you running from today?

What if, instead of sticking with what we’re good at, we do the opposite—the thing we've been putting off? Deep down, most of us know what it is. Whether it’s stepping into the gym for the first time, having a difficult conversation with our spouse, or working on a project we've been dreaming of——the list goes on. These are the places where real growth happens. Lately, I’ve been experimenting with that—consciously doing uncomfortable things. In my training. In writing. Starting usually feels like a drag and, honestly, it sucks. But when I’m done, I often feel joy. Sometimes, just relief and sometimes, no feeling at all. But I still know I did the work. I took a step forward. And that’s what matters—because every step counts. So if you’ve made it this far, maybe ask yourself: What’s the discomfort I’ve gotten comfortable with? And what’s the real discomfort I’m avoiding today? Meanwhile, I’ll be giving 'Deutsch lernen' another shot. 😉