The End of My Comfort Zone

I’ve always been a deeply habitual person.

Maybe it’s the result of watching my dad eat Cheerios every morning for the past 20 years of my life, or some underlying case of OCD to blame, but I cherish and thrive off of routines. I’m a firm believer in morning workouts, advocate of wearing socks to bed and, much like my dad, am loyal to my choice of breakfast foods (I much prefer omelets and oatmeal to cereal, though).

So naturally, as the world - like we all once knew it - turned upside down over the past month, separation nor boredom has been my biggest obstacle, spontaneity has.

That’s when I realized that even if the world isn’t actually coming to an end, my comfort zone certainly is.

While some say that “life begins” once you’ve stepped outside your comfort zone, what happens when the end of your comfort zone is more like the result of being pushed off of a cliff? We don’t have much control over our quality of life anymore and it’s unsettling to say the least.

None of us asked to be cooped up in our houses. None of us agreed to see so many fellow Americans, let alone those we personally know, be affected by this virus. None of us would probably even wish being legally prohibited from earning an income and supporting a family upon our worst enemy.

Even with reminding myself that these conditions may just be temporary and are enforced for a greater purpose, having a positive attitude has been only a fleeting experience over the past couple of weeks.

Some days I wake up and feel motivated to maintain some sort of routine or to be extra thankful for my continued health in a time where that alone feels like a luxury. On the best days, I feel inspired to start a new task - something that I wouldn’t have had the chance to do otherwise if these odd circumstances hadn’t brought me home.

When I’m in this mindset, I start to wonder if some good could come from being forced out of my comfort zone.

I’ve been open to trying what has felt like anything and everything. The daily workouts I once used to stress about have been replaced with outdoor runs to farms near my house or even with time spent on the trampoline with my younger sisters. The bright pink walls of my childhood bedroom have been re-covered with a light gray color (I can’t take all the credit for this one; thanks, Dad). The rules about healthy eating that I once obsessed over have been thrown out the window for the plate of cookies that always seems to be on the kitchen counter. And in these times, being spontaneous doesn’t feel so bad.

But again, there are other days where I barely want to get out of bed at all.

Nearly a month into our new reality of social distancing and stay at home recommendations, human interaction and physical contact has already become so foreign. It’s all uncomfortable and discouraging, especially, that we're facing such uncertainty and that there's little remedy to look forward to.

I’m sure that feeling emotionally volatile is an experience that resonates with people across the nation right now. While the whole “we’re all in this together” mentality is probably supposed to make me feel validated or reassured in some way, doesn’t it just make it seem even more grim?

What I’ve discovered about comfort zones so far is that with leaving one, comes learning to expect instability.

So until we can return to some semblance of normal life, all I can do is try my best to embrace the rollercoaster of emotions that lies ahead. From feeling optimistic to being overwhelmed with pessimism, and everything in between… I look forward to hopefully being able to grow from this experience.