Comfort is something, I would wager, that most of us human beings long for and enjoy. We certainly prefer comfort to discomfort, in a general sense, and naturally, we gravitate toward situations, people, animals, environments, etc., that provide us with comfort as opposed to discomfort.
Anxiety and discomfort are two things that arguably go hand-in-hand. One of the first ways I am able to identify that I am feeling or becoming anxious is when I start feeling uneasy or uncomfortable for no apparent reason, and once this feeling of unease sinks in, the anxiety begins.
I’ve had anxiety for half my life, so I like to think I’ve determined a few coping mechanisms, tips and tricks that help me manage it. Sometimes they work, other times, my efforts seem useless, but when it comes to anxiety, not much about the concept itself makes a whole lot of sense.
Something I have been trying to force myself to do is become comfortable with being uncomfortable. Say, for example, I’m about to do something that normally gives me anxiety. In my mind, I have a routine or system to complete the task that makes me anxious in hopes of the anxiety not rearing its ugly head, and when I’m in the middle of completing an anxious task, the smallest distraction or hiccup can completely throw me off. When this happens, my mind tells me I must start over, or try again, but that leads to OCD and anxiety spirals; in hopes of trying to avoid these spirals, I force myself to complete the task with whatever distractions that may unearth themselves, and in doing so, I’m trying to come to terms with being uncomfortable.
The reason I’ve started doing this is because nothing in life is perfect, and distractions and hiccups are inevitable. So, if I can manage my anxiety while simultaneously managing diversions, I like to think I can stomach being uncomfortable, too.
Photo by Aləx Buchan on Unsplash
ontheedgeofeverything 