Learning to live in that icky place

Bold statement: I really like being comfortable.

I’m not just talking about sweats and tea and day-to-day predictability (all good) but I like when my mind is comfortable. It’s nice when things are running smoothly and the next word, the next thought, the next action comes easily.

If everything is working well, I don’t even have to think about the fact that I’m not really thinking about things.

It’s not until I brush up against that other place – that icky place, where my thoughts get stuck and they’re forced to scrape and smear across some invisible boundary – that I’m brought to this reckoning.

I hate that place.

My mind screams, “Google how many trees are planted by squirrels!” rather than work through the discomfort of some plot point that’s giving me grief. (It’s millions, by the way.) Or to desperately find a distraction rather than explain to my daughter why it’s not the best idea to loudly shout, “that man’s not wearing a mask!” on the bus. (But seriously dude… if a three year old can do it.)

And yes, I know, I know – these are the places we’re forced to confront in order to move ahead, affect change, get closer to your goals, etc., etc.

BUT IT FEELS ICKY.

I’m trying to convince myself that icky is not so bad (for reasons stated above). That maybe it’s okay to sit with those feelings for a second. So, instead of running away to go vacuum my house, maybe I can just be uncomfortable and see what’s on the other side of discomfort?

But just for a second.

2 thoughts on “Learning to live in that icky place”

  1. I relate to your squirrel 🐿 story more than I care to admit. But what the heck, while distracted it helps to enhance my curious nature. I wonder sometimes that squirrels are so focused in burying nuts 🌰 that they have become masters at focusing on process not the nuts.
    My neighbour is a golf fanatic and a few years ago decided to make a front yard ornament of his older golf balls – created a pyramid of golf balls.
    He should have glued them together because for the last few years during the squirrel nut burying frenzy our local squirrels have been carrying around golf balls which have been found in our lawn, garden and even a plantar on our sun deck.
    So the point? I am not sure – there goes another squirrel…

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