Another Thought on Comfort Zones

The way to personal growth is to look outside of your comfort zone.  This is a fact of human nature.  It is also based in science.  You create neural pathways when you experience new things, and your brain can strengthen these pathways the more you act upon them. We have it in our bones to strike out on adventures and have stories to tell.  We also define ourselves by these experiences.  A stamped passport, a gallery of one-of-a-kind photos and collectibles on your knick-knack shelves are all signs of taking short term excursions outside of your comfort zone.

            I understand that the term is meant to encompass more than your personal space. There are escapes from the monotony of work and hobbies, too.  Try Indian cooking.  Ever build your own table?  Jim, try reading some fantasy novels.  You branch out and your life can become richer, even if the experience isn’t that great.  You return to your comfort zone wiser than before.

            But I’d like to talk about comfort zones. 

            There are a lot of us who cannot honestly say they’ve ever had a comfort zone.  Not a real one.  In fact, mental illness and uncontrollable economic factors can throw a monkey wrench into the whole comfort zone process.  In essence a comfort zone is a place or an activity where you feel the most comfortable.  Like this one, for me, right now.  Writing my observations down is comfortable to me after years of dealing with comedian brain. “I have all of these ideas and I made all of these connections.  What the hell do I do with them?”

            Well, this.

That’s just dandy as I’m staring at 50. But I had nowhere and nothing for so long, I can’t help wondering if I could have kept some of my hair I if had found a comfort zone decades ago.  That ‘s just an artistic hobby, anyway.  Finding comfort as an adult or a citizen or an employee or a man or a father is infinitely more difficult if you’re not wired to do so.  Whatever toxic concoction formulates depression can disguise a comfort zone just as well as personal recognition or admitting that you don’t suck.  Its like this:

Imagine two people in an empty room. A lightbulb hangs from the ceiling and it is lit. Depression can keep you from seeing the lightbulb. The other person can tell you it’s there, point to it, describe it.  You can see it create shadows and you can sense it’s warmth.  You still can’t see it.  Even if you do, you don’t want to believe it because depression has created a narrative where you aren’t the type of person who gets to see lightbulbs.

That’s some shit, right?

Then, there are physical comfort zones.  Geographical places.  Homes.  Rooms.  A chair.  Whatever you are fortunate to have.  Even depressed people have a chance at getting one of these. If you find one where you don’t wallow, in a non-toxic environment where you can actually be yourself, you’ve found a comfort zone. Even though my little orange office in my house is not as stunning as Zion National Park or Crater Lake or Tuscany or Fiji or Universal Studios, is more valuable than any one of these.  Because after being raised in an unsupervised anxiety-ridden series of apartments and then having a loving but crowded home for my own family, I feel comfortable. 

I’m not in anyone else’s space. I’m not intruding in their lives and they are not intruding in mine.  All I have to do now is figure out what my life is.

Which brings me back to comfort zones.  Amy and I have had some trips recently and have planned some more.  But we like our comfort zone.  We like it better than the idea of leaving it to gain perspective.  If part of the perspective you get from leaving it is to appreciate it more when you return, I think we have that covered.  That box is checked. You don’t get a souvenir from that, but we’ll be okay.

So, there are parts of the idea of comfort zones that aren’t universal.  Trying new things and meeting new people for some, planning trips across the ocean for others, starting a new career for another group.  Right now, I am learning to not fear the imagined inevitable shoe to drop and ruin everything.  I am breathing fuller and sleeping deeper.  I am quieter and more contemplative.  It took me this long to find my comfort zone and I kinda want to hang around for a while.