This Is When
It’s Worth Staying Inside Your Comfort Zone
I'd talked my then-boyfriend into climbing this beautiful old
lighthouse with me, all the way to the top. The weather was perfect, the sea
air was invigorating, but something felt… off. Cory's steps were strangely
careful and calculated, and this was a guy who would normally challenge me to a
race, then turn around, a goofy smile on his face as he beat me while
backpedaling. His closed-off attitude and plodding gait were uncharacteristic,
to say the least.
Once we reached the top, he let me in on the secret: He was afraid
of heights. "I can't go out there," he said, sheepishly gesturing to
the structure's outdoor lookout point. It made sense—but I felt awful. Cory's
effort to go along with what I wanted to do was undeniably sweet, but learning
that he was downright terrified turned what was supposed to be
a fun bonding experience into a guilt-fest for me and a load of embarrassment
for him.
That misadventure took place years ago, but a recent situation
reminded me of it.
This time, I was
the one out of my element.
Just like Cory willingly embarked on an activity he knew he was
going to hate just to please me, I found myself gearing up for a dance fitness
class, despite a total lack of rhythm, coordination, and interest in dancing.
But I was on a mission: to demonstrate my fun, carefree, and five-star gal-pal
capabilities to a new friend.
I met Claire through a running club and fiercely wanted her to
like me. As a consistently Single Person in my late 20s, it's super important
to me to establish and cultivate friendships, especially with other people who
can relate to my struggle of cooking
for one. So when Claire asked if I wanted to join her at her favorite
fitness class, I responded with an enthusiastic Sure!, zero
questions asked.
But once I realized the class involved choreographed dance
moves to popular top 40 songs, my heart sank. While grooving to
Rihanna is many people's ideal Friday night, the very thought of
attempting to shake it in a crowd of people makes me cringe. I refused to opt
out, though: After all, weren't the best things in life like growth and
opportunity waiting for me just outside my comfort zone? All the Pinterest
boards said so!
But as the day of our class loomed closer, I just felt more and
more anxious. Though I consider myself strong and thrive in typical fitness
classes, this was a totally different wheelhouse. Sure, dancing is one thing
when I'm a few drinks deep, the music is loud, and the lights are low. But in
public? In front of a mirror?!
I wasn't just stepping outside my comfort zone, I
was racing away from my comfort zone at top speed and was about to be several
zip codes away.
I tried to mask my unease in texts to Claire packed with LOLs and
convinced myself it would be over quickly. I even had a beer before class to
settle my nerves, fully proving I was 100 percent not OK. Taking
the edge off didn't help ease the tightness in my chest.
Despite an inclusive class culture and encouragement from Claire,
I felt more and more uncomfortable with every misstep. I was bad at this. And
soon, my embarrassment morphed into anger: It was Friday night, and I was
spending it doing something I hated. What the actual eff was I doing?!
The tension was palpable, though—and it was my fault. Instead of
the fun bonding experience I'd envisioned, my panicked attempt at trying
something way beyond my comfort level had strained our budding friendship.
Fortunately, Claire and I have other common interests, like
watching The Bachelor, running, and her goofy dog, Wesley. But why
didn't I just suggest an activity we both like to begin with, instead of
putting myself through an after-school special's worth of emotions?
As adults, we have pretty good ideas of what we
like and what we don't. I don't mean this in a narrow-minded way, but by the
time you reach your mid-20s, it's normal to know yourself well enough to get a
sense of what sounds fun to you and what doesn't (even if that idea can change
over time). For example, I know I'd rather spend my Saturday morning running
outside than lying in bed with a hangover from the night before. I know I
prefer small groups over larger gatherings, and I know that I absolutely loathe dancing
in front of a mirror.
The idea that we have to get out of our comfort zones to grow or
have an incredible bonding experience with another human being isn't totally inaccurate,
but it can also lead to a miserable, anxiety-ridden time. While it can be
healthy to step outside your comfort zones, if a certain activity is causing
you major anxiety or making you experience a literal sense of dread, that
just might be a sign that it's not for you.
New experiences—the ones that will actually challenge and change
you—should scare you a little, but ultimately, your excitement, curiosity, and
intrigue should overpower that fear. For me, those experiences include
activities like finishing an Ironman or moving to a new city. There's no rule
that says I need to add performance to the list.
That said, I did learn some things: I found out that I just really don't
like putting myself on display and that I would totally crumble during a
producer-orchestrated Bachelordate designed to make me have a
nervous breakdown (which is to say, all of them).
But most importantly, I learned that I don't need to sacrifice my
happiness to get people to like me. And I also learned that I'm not a carefree,
up-for-anything gal pal—but I'm still a really good friend (and I'm
always ready to share my latest dating horror story, which has to be bonus
points).
BY ERIN KELLY
https://greatist.com/live/when-staying-in-your-comfort-zone-is-good
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