Getting Comfortable with Discomfort

I’ve been giving up a lot lately.

But that’s a good thing. It’s intentional and hardly the path of least resistance. First to go were sweets for Lent and ever thereafter unless it’s a specific celebration. Next was procrastination. Finally, I have begun the process of saying so long to television.

All this bettering of myself has stirred up a lot of bitterness. In each case I found that I went through withdrawals. It’s like I’m addicted to my own bad habits. The first five days were the worst. I felt grumpy, short-fused and, honestly, a bit lost. I use sweets and TV to escape moments of frustration or anxiety, so when they are missing, those emotions swirl around me until I am forced to inhale them. I sit, a bit jittery, as I crave my forsaken habit. That’s why I gave up procrastination. Might as well DO SOMETHING besides fixating on what I won’t allow myself to have.

The funny thing is after just one week, my discomfort dissipates. It’s not nearly as hard to turn down a treat or resist the remote. The fog of withdrawal lifts and it’s easier to see the path to living better. It takes a lot of work to get to that point. Even though one week is a short amount of time, the minutes stretch slowly, seemingly endlessly. Yoga helped me with this. Not the physical practice of asanas, but what I’ve learned from practicing over the years.

I love yoga, but I don’t. There are moments of bliss in my practice, but there are also moments of uncomfortable confrontation with myself on the mat. Learning a new posture or deepening one or even having a bad day and feeling disconnected are all a normal part of a regular yoga practice. Yoga has taught me to identify my resistance, observe it, breathe into it (rather than away from it), and then accept it with detachment. Feeling uncomfortable is merely an invitation to get to know myself better.

What is true on the mat is true off the mat as well. I was truly shocked to see how difficult it was for me to fold a load of diapers and not turn on the TV. I’m ashamed of myself for developing such a bad habit. In the beginning that shame made me feel an even stronger desire to escape into the tube. So I sat with it, like I would in yoga. I marveled at the intensity of my urge. I breathed deeply and reaffirmed my decision not to turn on the television. Then I turned my attention back to the diapers that still needed folding. I itched and twitched for the remote, but I went about my business calmly accepting my discomfort.

Discomfort gets a bad rap. Western culture emphasizes comfort and luxury as ideals. Certainly feeling good feels, uh, good, but there is a flip side as well. Comfort can breed complacency. If we get too comfortable, we can lose our motivation, determination and focus. After all, isn’t the path of least resistance always downward? Shouldn’t we spend part of our lives climbing mountains? Aren’t some things worth the effort? Aren’t some grand vistas worth the striving towards?