Discomfort is what I abhor. Some carry a cross believing that what pains us, gives us gain. Not me. Comfort and Joy could be a hymn I’d sing all year. I might get nasty looks though, which would make me feel uncomfortable.
I take medication to reduce persistent childhood anxiety. Back then I was more resilient, but now life is easier if I can access calm inner-harmony before blaming another. Yes, I know all about the ways to reduce stress without resorting to a prescription. I can often get out of a panic by using my breath training, or finding a place to meditate. However, when the wheel of fear keeps spinning in my head it’s hard to make a rational decision. My medication keeps me on an even keel. Sailing straight is actually a normal part of my personality, but into everyone’s life a little rain must fall, or even heavy seas, where we might find ourselves marooned. Avoidance is a good strategy, but not always possible.
My anxiety can prevent access to the better part of me. When we have pleasant thoughts, un-muddied by hamster-harried misgivings, we experience comfort. Sometimes I find comfort in music. I use the Youtube channel to let the melodies sooth my savage beast. Even a Super Being needs some creature-comforts.
Some people swear by a daily cup of coffee. That liquid medication can set the chemistry straight for a productive day of work or recreation. Meaningful relationships, even with pets, can make us feel comforted. I depend on my bride to be there for me when I need a comforting touch. When we bring comfort to another it feels mighty good. I admire the folks in my community who give their time volunteering in various ways. I’ve contributed that way through my lifetime reaping the quiet rewards of knowing I’ve made a difference to another. I also know it’s important not to override your own comfort in a good-samaritan way. Once, I took the overnight shift on a Help-Phone service. My involvement in this altruistic activity contributed to a sustained bought of anxiety that led to depression. Neither comfortable, nor healthy!
In my neighbourhood there is often the smell of cannabis in the air, which might also explain the abundance of food trucks. I’m neither a foodie nor a pot-user so I have find other sources to help me wind-down from upset. I have empathy for those who are without a place to feel safe. Being unhoused is the ultimate in discomfort. It bothers me that folks-of-means feel the answer to getting vagrants off the streets is though police action. I support the position that drug dependency is a health issue. I relate to policies of harm reduction because I know that addiction evolves exponentially, when comfort needs have not been met.
When I’m feeling cozy, my world is less scary. I don’t wish to take cold-comfort from knowing I have it better than others. As a global citizen, contributing to the well-being of all is a worthy aspiration.
