Embracing discomfort

Is there anything wrong with pursuing a comfortable life? On the surface, it seems like the ideal goal. We're constantly marketed convenience—products and services designed to make life easier, smoother, and more predictable. But is an easy life truly what we're striving for?

If that were the case, no one would voluntarily run marathons, start difficult businesses, or become parents. Neuroscience suggests we’re wired to seek pleasure and avoid pain, but human behaviour tells a more complex story. We willingly seek out discomfort, sometimes even suffering, when it leads to meaning, growth, or connection.

In many ways, my life is comfortable. Yet, I often find myself stepping outside that comfort zone. I’ve asked myself countless times: Why can’t I just be content with a regular job and a stable routine? Why do I feel compelled to pursue projects that offer little or no financial reward, or that don’t enhance my social status?

Writing, for instance, has always come naturally to me. But sharing that writing? That was once deeply uncomfortable. Over time, through practice and feedback, I grew more confident. More recently, I began being interviewed on podcasts to promote my book.  This is an activity that I struggled with because spontaneously composing my thoughts and sharing them aloud was not one of my strengths. Yet, every episode stretched me, sharpened me, and left me stronger.

Discomfort, I’ve learned, isn’t just about growth—it’s also about maintenance. Like our muscles, our minds and capacities atrophy without regular use. Since entering my fifties, I’ve noticed how quickly my conditioning deteriorates when I take a break from basketball due to injury. The same applies to mental and social skills. During the pandemic lockdowns, I got a little too comfortable staying home with minimal social interaction. When the world reopened, I was surprised by how intense my social anxiety had become. Once effortless interactions now felt daunting.

Comfort, unchecked, can lead to complacency. Our capacity to cope, connect, and perform begins to shrink—often without us realising it.

So how do we avoid the trap of an ever-shrinking comfort zone? We challenge it. Set goals that stretch you. Try new things. Notice your routines and deliberately deviate from them now and then. Do things even when you don’t feel like it. Not because you must, but because you can. One practice I’ve adopted is taking cold showers. It’s uncomfortable but also invigorating, empowering, and strangely satisfying.

Happiness doesn't come from comfort or convenience. Some of our most joyful moments are born not from ease, but from effort—from overcoming adversity or achieving something that once felt out of reach.

Discomfort, in the right measure, is not the enemy. It’s the edge where we grow, where we remember who we are, and where we discover what we’re truly capable of.