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Comfortable.
I even like the word. It makes me feel…well…comfortable.
Just rolling the word around on my tongue evokes images of warm, fuzzy bedroom slippers and soft, cozy furniture. It makes me long for a field of wildflowers and a bed of green grass!
Comfortable can be a real place or a euphoric sense of well-being.
When we think of “comfortable,” rarely do we picture a cold, sterile environment such as a hospital or waiting room. But then again, I guess it depends on your perspective.
For those who work in a hospital, perhaps that’s where they’re comfortable. It’s their home away from home. They may love their jobs and what they do. Or they may not.
The point being, they’ve been trained to handle emergencies and difficult situations. It’s familiar to them. Bright lights, needles, and odd sorts of smells don’t fluster healthcare professionals the way they might the average Joe.
For some, maintaining a rigid schedule is a natural high. Doing the same thing the same way over and over breeds security and peace of mind. Things that we’re used to become routine.
Expected.
Accepted.
The norm.
Things that make me feel comfortable:
- My home
- My office
- Leftovers in the fridge
- Sitting in the same pew every Sunday
- The old bathrobe I wear around the house
- My mama’s kitchen
- My neatly organized pantry
- Our public library
- Family mealtime (which, at our home, is still quite traditional)
- My beloved Ozarks
Things that jar my comfort zone:
- Malicious gossip
- Unkind words
- Heights
- An overcrowded amusement park
- Reality T.V. (I’m sorry, but yuck.)
- Greasy diners
- Closed minds
- A dead cell phone
- Camping (Loved it when I was little. Now? Not so much.)
- Our pastor’s Sunday sermons. (But it’s a good thing.)
As I’ve matured, I’ve learned that stepping away from comfortable can be a good thing.
It stretches us. It grows us.
Repositioning ourselves gives us courage.
We adjust.
We compensate.
We experience new things.
We learn different ways. We absorb knowledge. We begin to realize that comfort isn’t necessarily a bad thing—it’s just the known thing.
As I write, I find I’m taking baby steps out of my comfort zones.
I’m tackling the uncomfortable.
I’ve committed to stretching myself in 2015.
It’s a little scary, but I know I can trust you with this tidbit of information because I’m going to challenge you to do the same thing.
Are you ready to shake off the comfortable?
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Have you stretched yourself lately? Maybe it’s time.
We don’t like to think about it. The truth about being too comfortable.
What makes you comfortable?
What shifts your sweet spot?
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Here’s to a super day!
Blessings Always,
Comments 2
The things that make me comfortable would make a normal person decidedly uncomfortable; I’m quite happy with a firefight, but am at a loss of what to do at a dinner party, or…horrors…after-dinner conversation in the living room.
When I returned to the World, I sought out jobs that tested my physical limits, and that could easily kill me…and when i finally ran out those options and took a university teaching job, I was dreadfully unhappy.
Somehow, a faculty meeting with no prospect of a fragging was unutterably dull.
Of course, some meetings WERE so dull that someone rolling a frag through the door would have been welcome…and not only to me!
Author
Andrew, your dry wit is priceless! I think this comment alone could be story fodder for your next book. (Seriously—just think what fun you could have with that!)
…And I have to admit—I had to google the word “frag,” though my husband would have known its meaning. Suddenly, those meetings you referred to took on a whole new connotation. Wow. They were really that dull?