Finding comfort

Be comfortable being uncomfortable, but know when—and how—to soothe your soul

Hello and happy almost New Year’s Eve! This essay is for all subscribers, and if you’re looking for Part 2 of favorite books of 2022—this includes my book talk with my 22-year-old daughter Emma—it’s coming this weekend! Our recorded conversation will be available to paid subscribers only. If you’re able to help support this community and the work I share here, I hope you’ll consider becoming a paid subscriber. Your involvement truly makes a difference and I am grateful for this support. Thank you for being here and reading today’s post. I’d love to hear your thoughts—please leave a comment!

Choosing a movie to watch at home is often an exhausting endeavor, an activity in which I’m less than enthusiastic about participating unless I’m in the right frame of mind. At the very least, time needs to be on our side—ideally it’s not too late in the evening, especially if it’s during the work week, because it apparently now takes us a good 20 minutes to a half hour (sometimes longer) to search through the various streaming services and their myriad film and TV series before landing on something Joe and I, or all of us, agree upon and hope will be worth watching. 

Are we into the movie from 2004 that’s now trending in the top 10 movies on Netflix? How about that new Gerard Butler movie? Yes, he made another new one. What about that comedy everyone is talking about—“Onion” something or other that’s a sequel maybe to Knives Out? Nope, a couple of us tried it already and didn’t see it through. Maybe let’s re-watch something, introduce our kids to a really good one like The Talented Mr. Ripley (“That sounds like it was made a long time ago—too long ago,” one of our kids replies.) OK, maybe this Winona Ryder-Dermot Mulroney thriller will be decent. OK, let’s give it a try. Spoiler: It’s not good. I wanted to like it, I love Winona. (Side note: I just read this interesting take on the current state of streaming shows and movies, and I think the writer, Troy Riemink, nails it.)

It goes without saying that it’s way easier to play the what-to-watch streaming game when you’re by yourself. Which was the case recently when I happily discovered, with very little searching, that When Harry Met Sally was on Netflix and I easily and quickly started this classic late 1980s movie while chopping carrots and celery. One of the things I love about our remodeled kitchen is that our island overlooks our living room and, along with being able to have a conversation with anyone sitting on the couch, I now have a clear view of our TV while making meals. Most often, I’ve got Spotify playing on it, and now and again, depending upon when I start cooking, I’ll turn on the nightly news for background noise. On this particular early evening of dinner prep, knowing I had the place to myself for a bit as everyone else was off doing their own thing, I opted for something other than music or the latest headlines. 

I yearned for something familiar. Something I could count on being good and satisfying. Something that would be comforting. 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what brings us comfort—the simple, everyday things that soothe us in some way. A steaming cup of coffee or tea first thing, making time to watch the sun rise or set (or both), going for a walk in the woods, reaching out to a friend or family member, completing a creative project, taking a nap, logging off, getting take-out, baking a cake, staying up late reading a great book (maybe that one novel you’ve read multiple times over the years because it never fails to make you feel good, at peace even).

Figure out what you like doing and do more of that. This is increasingly ringing true for me. I’m more intentional about engaging in what brings me joy, and I’m returning to these things because they resonate deeply, having saved me in the past and being an experience I can count on. The familiarity provides so much of the comfort.

On the flip side, having pursued endurance sports like marathon racing and triathlons over the past 15 years, I’m also quite familiar with the adage get comfortable with being uncomfortable. Writer Peter McWilliams put it this way: Be willing to be uncomfortable. Be comfortable being uncomfortable. It may get tough, but it's a small price to pay for living a dream.

I agree with this and have strived for this. Not just in training cycles and at start lines and near finish chutes, but at work and in my relationships.

But for all the outside-the-comfort-zone efforts I’ve made in my life, and still work hard at incorporating into my life, I also have come to appreciate just how essential it is that we are equally as relentless about going easy, being gentle with our thoughts and time, and treating ourselves well.

I want to be just as passionate about pinpointing what makes me feel good and safe and seen. I seek these “comforts” not in a selfish, entitled way but instead as part of an important practice of treating myself as well as I would my best friend or my partner or my child.

These acts of self-kindness need to be built into our every day, not just squeezed into our routines when we’ve reached our breaking points and are going through burn-out, as so many of us have experienced, particularly in recent times. (I plan to write more about this topic in the near future.) The tricky part, of course, is it’s hard to do this ongoing, to carve out moments that are just for us, when so many other things—meaningful things—and important-to-us people call out and demand our attention. But what I know for sure, for me, is that when I consistently make personal joy-spotting a priority, my days are less stressful overall and more … enjoyable.

What if we didn’t ever feel guilty about finding—and fully accepting—comfort for ourselves?

I want to know: what’s something that brings you joy these days? What are ways you find comfort in everyday life?

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I’ve probably never taken as much stock of these things that bring me joy and light me up as I have in the past few years. Maybe it’s because of the pandemic and how it’s changed me, or maybe it’s getting older and understanding and accepting myself more. It’s likely a combination of things. Whatever the reason, I’ve come to know certain things to be true about what brings me comfort—and how I can incorporate more of these things into my life, on a regular basis. 

These needn’t be big or grand things, either. In fact, usually they are not. But what I do think they need to be, for each of us, are things, activities, places, and experiences that speak to our individual hearts. Trust that you know what’s good and right for you.

It’s really only been through a practice of getting quiet, pausing and thinking before saying yes, and feeling that knowing within me that has allowed me to better tune out the white noise of what everyone else may be doing. I don’t have that entirely figured out, and I’ll be fine-tuning who I am and who I want to become for the rest of my life, but it does feel rather amazing—comforting, really—to understand myself more these days, and to do the things that I know are taking me exactly where I need and want to go.

Sometimes, this means spending a couple of solo hours puttering in my kitchen, taking my time preparing something delicious, and laughing—then crying then laughing again—during a movie that just hits in all the right places. The next moments, days, and weeks ahead will bring their frustrations and setbacks and injustices, but right then, I am OK—I am actually more than good.

And it’s in these moments, even ones as silly and simple as Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal debating whether men and women can ever just be friends, when I realize whatever comes my way, I will figure it out, somehow. And I will create more comforting moments ahead, too, to get me through.