I am a creature of habit. That may be a giant understatement. I really find my groove and stick in it because it is safe. Safe is good. Safe is known. Safe let’s me breathe more easily. Safe is no way to live life.
I grew up in a town that didn’t have a high school because it was just that small when I was a student there. That meant for high school we were sent to the next town. Our small group of 75 kids, the same 75 kids that had been together since kindergarten, were now going to be merged with about 300 other kids. The week before my freshman year, I was so nervous I was sick every night. I didn’t know the teachers. I didn’t have an older sibling to tell me about the three cafeterias. I didn’t know and I didn’t like not knowing. It was a good thing for me because I was forced out of my small pond. I was uncomfortable but I know I had some amazing times with some amazing people. College was more of the same.
Now I find myself a mother. Talk about being out of your comfort zone. Someone is now my responsibility. Scary. I hope I don’t make her neurotic like I have recently become. Though I like to think I am neurotic with some good cause.
This past Friday, I had surgery to remove three pretty big cysts as well as the parts they were growing on. My comfort zone has been completely dissolved. I realize that this bubble I thought I had created as my comfort zone was really more my scared zone. I go there when I am terrified, not when I am happy. When I am there, I am stifled, stymied by the thoughts that fill my head. I retreat into myself and slowly drive myself insane with the negative things.
With this surgery, I am in uncharted water. I don’t quite know what is in store. I don’t know. Even this recovery is just plain weird. I am forced to be aware of my body and pay attention to everything to make sure I heal correctly. I am well away from my comfort zone. My comfort zone would have had me hiding in my room pretending that I didn’t need surgery; the pain I had been feeling in my hip was nothing. My comfort zone would have killed me.
Realizing this, I know that after I recover, I have a new goal. Well, not so much a new goal as an old goal renewed. I need to focus on my health. I need to live a healthy lifestyle. I need to live. In my mind, living is riding the zip line across the river in New Hampshire, biking across Cape Cod, maybe even trying to set up a local amateur tennis tournament for cervical and ovarian cancer research. I need to get out more and make a change. I need to always live outside my comfort zone. Because when I am in my comfort zone, I am not living.
This post was written as part of the May NaBloPoMo. The theme this month is comfort. Today’s prompt was “How much do you push yourself to leave your comfort zone?”