I feel obliged to write something for this weekend about gratitude with yesterday being Thanksgiving and all. We’re coming off a challenging year as a family. My husband and I divorced, he moved next door, and we’re learning to co-parent while discovering how family can evolve into something different. I feel we’ve navigated this well, so far, but it still has been a change requiring many ongoing adjustments, both big and small.

In the midst of it, on this holiday I can find plenty of things for which I’m grateful: my amazing kids; my friends who make me laugh and let me cry; my ex-husband and co-parent who continues to show patience for our grand experiment and fiercely loves our kids; and my family who support me with their big hearts and generosity.

However, at this moment I feel the most gratitude for discomfort. It shapes my reactions, decisions, thinking, parenting, relationships, and more, and yet I avoid thinking about it. I make greater efforts to escape sitting with it for any length of time. Discomfort walks my journey with me as much as desire yet I pretend it belongs to the paths of others, whereas my own deserves little attention.-
Who cares if I am uncomfortable, as long as everyone else is happy.

I have no right to be uncomfortable considering the challenges other people face.
My discomfort is misplaced and unreasonable. I should not be feeling it because others tell me everything is fine and I’m too sensitive.
Rational, healthy, sound people do not feel discomfort because experiencing discomfort means you have failed in some way, therefore you are mistaken by thinking you are uncomfortable.
People with charmed lives only feel comfortable and happy and you have a charmed life.
Don’t be so dramatic, it’s not that bad.

I engage these and many other thoughts to dismiss my discomfort, often adding shame along the way. Ironically, shame increases discomfort, making me even more of a failure, thus beginning a spiral that I must not acknowledge because I cannot be uncomfortable…and so on and so forth. I go to great lengths to deny the validity or importance of my discomfort in order to keep my attention on the comfort of others. Having children provides the most effective excuse for ignoring any pain or unpleasantness I may feel because putting their comfort or needs above my own validates me, making me a self-righteously great mom.

Several months ago I lamented to my friend that my right shoulder had flared up again, a recurring problem since college. She said to me, “listen and see what it’s trying to tell you.”
What? My pain and discomfort can do more than simply annoy me by actually communicating something to me?!

Over the past few years I worked to shift my thinking and that of my kids away from assuming we should be happy all the time. For too long I operated under the assumption that if we aren’t happy all the time then something must be grievously wrong. Instead we began using the phrase, “It’s ok to not be ok,” resetting our expectations for our daily emotions and acknowledging the truth that we cannot be happy every waking moment. In turn, our authentic feelings may take their rightful place, acknowledged and affirmed. Glennon Doyle’s Untamed helped encourage this shift because in it she talks about raising her kids not to avoid discomfort but walk through it to learn their strengths. If you haven’t read that book, I highly recommend it.

All of this thinking centered on sitting with discomfort and not avoiding it. Memes reinforcing this notion pop up in my For You Page and I need to see them. However, they stop short of the deeper truth and benefit of facing our discomfort. We deny ourselves insight when we limit our efforts to simply existing in the same space as our dis-ease without engaging it.

What is your discomfort trying to tell you?

Since my friend challenged me with this question regarding my shoulder, I started applying it to other sources of pain, suffering, challenges, or pinch-points. Every single time, a message appeared bearing a lesson or insight. Here are just a few examples:

A loved one crossed a boundary
I crossed a boundary
I failed to set a boundary or reinforce one
I needed to apologize
I didn’t receive an apology and needed to let go of resentment and accept that an apology would not be forthcoming
I suffered under the illusion that anything can be controlled
I shoved my authentic self behind a mask that I assumed others would find more palatable
I felt jealous of someone and needed to check myself about why
I betrayed myself by not honoring my emotions or needs
A pattern of behavior had become unhealthy and I needed to reprogram myself
I could have done better in a situation and had to reflect on how and why in order to allow growth to happen
I failed to observe the self care routines that sustain me
I didn’t recognize I was sick until after I spent days overcompensating and/or being aggravated and cranky with the world
I needed to let go and stop trying to fix problems that I don’t own
I failed to prioritize my own goals, giving deference instead to others’ demands on and requests for my time
I didn’t say “no”
I didn’t say “yes”

It’s early for New Year’s Resolutions but Advent begins Sunday, December 3, and the start of a new church year gives adequate cause to set some personal goals. As part of my discipline in the year ahead, I acknowledge discomfort’s rightful place among my priorities. I won’t go so far as to say that I like it, but maybe I can find my way to make friends with it. It deserves my attention and respect as a teacher and healer.