Built for Comfort

The new year annoys me. Not just this year, every new year annoys me. So do birthdays, for that matter. Or any occasion that incites me to examine my life and wonder what the hell I’ve done with it. Every year I say I won’t make resolutions, and I don’t, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking about what I should change and what I’d like to achieve during the year. Which I guess makes them actual resolutions, even if I don’t like to call them that. I’ve been thinking for a while that I’m kind of stuck in a rut. It’s a rut of my own making, admittedly, but I feel like I need to leave my comfort zone more often. It’s probably ridiculous to say I like my comfort zone, of course everyone likes theirs, that’s the point. Comfort is so very nice, and I try to avoid discomfort of all kinds as much as possible. However I do think I need to be uncomfortable occasionally, if only to appreciate how lovely my comfort zone really is. So my obsessive over-thinking brought on by the arrival of a new year has led me to conclude that I need to force myself out of the zone more often, even if only in tiny little ways. My real problem is that I’m too cautious and sensible. I’m not thrilled by danger or fear. I don’t like scary movies and I’m not particularly keen on rollercoasters. I like things that are safe and familiar which, while nice and comfortable, can also be a bit dull and dreary. I’m also not entirely sure what form this discomfort will take. So far the scariest thing I’ve done is enrol in a creative writing course. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, but have put it off every time the opportunity arose. While I had many excuses, ultimately fear was the biggest one. What if I suck at it? What if I can’t keep up? What if I don’t like it and it becomes a chore rather than a joy?  But then, so what if those things do happen? Hardly the end of the world, is it? And I would like to find out if I’m any good at it, no harm done if I’m not. Now I just have to read To Kill a Mockingbird in the next two weeks before the course begins, which is sending me right into expert procrastination mode. It’s not even that I don’t want to read it, I read it at school and liked it then, and I know it’s a great book, it’s just that there’s a deadline so I must put it off as long as possible. That’s the expert procrastination rule. So far it’s been sitting on my desk at work for five days. I’ll bring it home this week and possibly even make a half-hearted attempt to read it over the weekend, but I know I’ll be reading the bulk of it the day before the course starts. I have learned not to fight my procrastinating ways because it only leads to guilt, and makes no difference to the task at hand anyway. So this year I will be looking for more ways to force myself to be ever so slightly uncomfortable. Open myself up to new experiences. Take risks. Be bold. Say yes more. Other self-help clichés that I can‘t think of right now. All within reason, of course. I’m not going to start going to parties or join a gym, but I might strike up a conversation with a stranger or go for a walk occasionally. Actually, I might need to work up to the conversation now that I think about it. Maybe next year.