Appreciate you sharing this. I love that “there’s nothing to step out of.” That reframing feels powerful. Like instead of being at war with comfort, we can collaborate with it. I think a lot of the “growth = pain” narrative comes from systems that profit when we feel insufficient. But your ripple metaphor captures something truer: that growth doesn’t have to be this violent rupture. It can be a quiet widening. Thanks for adding that, it resonates.
Hilariously, I actually started writing about this very subject this morning for my newsletter going out on Saturday.
It’s a theme I’ve been circling around for a while. In one respect, I completely agree with you. The constant need to push further and achieve more becomes a never-ending (and ultimately unfulfilling) pursuit if the goal is purely external achievement or validation.
Many people (myself included) get caught in this fear of comfort, as if it somehow signals to ourselves—and the world at large—that we’re weak, complacent, or not trying hard enough.
That said, I do think there’s a strong case to be made, purely from a quality-of-life standpoint, for strategically exiting your comfort zone in order to expand it.
The key distinction for me is this:
The toxic, harmful approach is to push because you feel like you should—because you’re trying to make up for something. It’s driven by, as you mentioned, a perception of lack. Some kind of debt that needs to be paid off with your time and energy.
The other approach is rooted in self-compassion and a genuine curiosity to explore the edges of human experience.
On the outside, they can appear the same, but the inner experience is worlds apart.
Interesting how we’re circling the same theme but clearly from two very different worldviews.
I don’t think discomfort is something to push through, even when it’s internally driven. For me, emotions aren’t noise or resistance, they’re direction. If there’s distress, it’s a sign I’m off-path. I don’t try to override that just because the intention sounds noble.
I also don’t see weakness or stillness as problems to solve. Trying hard isn’t inherently good if it pulls you away from yourself. And honestly, I don’t believe we’re so self-aware that we can cleanly separate toxic pushes from healthy ones. That’s the illusion.
Seems like we’re not just offering different strategies. We’re speaking from completely different assumptions about what it means to live well. Maybe we should write something on that. Not to decide who’s right, but to put the contrast on display.
I'll concede we're probably not self aware enough to cleanly differentiate between toxic and healthy drives, but I don't think we're completely blind here.
I feel we need to first agree on what we're referring to by discomfort.
I get the impression you're, at least in part, referring to the suppression or ignoring of emotions. I agree that this is toxic and not a form of resistance to push through.
However, where do you stand on fear? Or physical discomfort?
I understand the act of pushing hard isn't inherently good or noble, but is there not value to facing certain forms of discomfort?
Thanks Shane, really appreciating this conversation. I think it’s a great opportunity to explore how different belief systems shape how we each interpret discomfort and motivation.
On the idea of self-awareness, personally, I don’t think we ever have direct access to our inner drives. For me, motivation doesn’t come as clarity, it comes as emotional signals. Like a game of hot and cold. Everything else is interpretation layered on top. There's a reason no one can be their own psychologist.
Apologies if I jumped straight to assumptions in my last comment, I was responding from the core of my framework rather than engaging directly on the examples you brought up. In the original post, I was referring to the pop psychology version of the “comfort zone.” Like: I’m a shy person, so my comfort zone is solitude. The socially intense space is what’s sold to me as “growth.” But if going there brings distress, I take that seriously, not as a challenge to push through, but as a sign that maybe it’s not my path.
As for fear or physical discomfort, I don’t personally see value in facing discomfort just because it’s there. What’s distress for one might be flow for another. That’s the key: alignment, not effort. Like the old line about not asking a fish to climb a tree, people should move from what fits them naturally, not from what looks like growth from the outside. Sure, sometimes life puts us in a position to choose between different discomforts. But that still doesn’t make discomfort inherently valuable. What matters is doing what resolves the emotion. That’s your path.
You didn’t jump to assumptions at all. I was the one who took the conversation in a broader direction and away from the specific theme you were exploring. Looking back, I can see that wasn’t entirely reflective of what you were saying in the piece.
Your point about motivation arising as emotional signals is a fascinating one and definitely something I’ll be sitting with.
As for your view on discomfort not inherently carrying meaning, I’m inclined to agree. If I’m understanding you right, you’re pushing back on the idea that discomfort always equals growth, and suggesting that comfort might sometimes signal a more natural, frictionless path—perhaps even the “right” one—not something to resist or push back against.
That tension really resonates. I’ve definitely learned the hard way that trying to force change rarely ends well, despite how much we’re taught to glorify the struggle.
I probably didn’t articulate my own worldview all that well in my earlier comment but reading your reply, I feel we’re actually more aligned (no pun intended) than I first realised.
Really appreciate you sharing this—some great food for thought.
It’s really encouraging to feel like we’re understanding each other, even if we come at life from slightly different lenses. Just knowing I’m not alone in wrestling with these tensions is a real comfort. This is exactly the kind of conversation I hope to spark by writing on Substack, the kind that helps me see the structure of my own thoughts more clearly. I’m looking forward to reading your essay on Saturday, it feels like this conversation is only just getting started.
This is an interesting take and I do agree with it.
For quite some time, I've struggled with the idea of being enough and the need to grow.
But I realize that these ideas don't have to be on the opposite spectrum.
Is there really a hard requirement that growth can only happen outside of the comfort zone or is that a standard we decide to impose on ourselves?
From my own experience, it's through embracing that I'm enough and being comfortable that actually triggers growth.
There's nothing to step out of, the circle just expands from the inside out. No brute force needed.
Like a ripple.
Hey Faz,
Appreciate you sharing this. I love that “there’s nothing to step out of.” That reframing feels powerful. Like instead of being at war with comfort, we can collaborate with it. I think a lot of the “growth = pain” narrative comes from systems that profit when we feel insufficient. But your ripple metaphor captures something truer: that growth doesn’t have to be this violent rupture. It can be a quiet widening. Thanks for adding that, it resonates.
Hilariously, I actually started writing about this very subject this morning for my newsletter going out on Saturday.
It’s a theme I’ve been circling around for a while. In one respect, I completely agree with you. The constant need to push further and achieve more becomes a never-ending (and ultimately unfulfilling) pursuit if the goal is purely external achievement or validation.
Many people (myself included) get caught in this fear of comfort, as if it somehow signals to ourselves—and the world at large—that we’re weak, complacent, or not trying hard enough.
That said, I do think there’s a strong case to be made, purely from a quality-of-life standpoint, for strategically exiting your comfort zone in order to expand it.
The key distinction for me is this:
The toxic, harmful approach is to push because you feel like you should—because you’re trying to make up for something. It’s driven by, as you mentioned, a perception of lack. Some kind of debt that needs to be paid off with your time and energy.
The other approach is rooted in self-compassion and a genuine curiosity to explore the edges of human experience.
On the outside, they can appear the same, but the inner experience is worlds apart.
Interesting how we’re circling the same theme but clearly from two very different worldviews.
I don’t think discomfort is something to push through, even when it’s internally driven. For me, emotions aren’t noise or resistance, they’re direction. If there’s distress, it’s a sign I’m off-path. I don’t try to override that just because the intention sounds noble.
I also don’t see weakness or stillness as problems to solve. Trying hard isn’t inherently good if it pulls you away from yourself. And honestly, I don’t believe we’re so self-aware that we can cleanly separate toxic pushes from healthy ones. That’s the illusion.
Seems like we’re not just offering different strategies. We’re speaking from completely different assumptions about what it means to live well. Maybe we should write something on that. Not to decide who’s right, but to put the contrast on display.
This is fascinating and I love it.
I'll concede we're probably not self aware enough to cleanly differentiate between toxic and healthy drives, but I don't think we're completely blind here.
I feel we need to first agree on what we're referring to by discomfort.
I get the impression you're, at least in part, referring to the suppression or ignoring of emotions. I agree that this is toxic and not a form of resistance to push through.
However, where do you stand on fear? Or physical discomfort?
I understand the act of pushing hard isn't inherently good or noble, but is there not value to facing certain forms of discomfort?
Thanks Shane, really appreciating this conversation. I think it’s a great opportunity to explore how different belief systems shape how we each interpret discomfort and motivation.
On the idea of self-awareness, personally, I don’t think we ever have direct access to our inner drives. For me, motivation doesn’t come as clarity, it comes as emotional signals. Like a game of hot and cold. Everything else is interpretation layered on top. There's a reason no one can be their own psychologist.
Apologies if I jumped straight to assumptions in my last comment, I was responding from the core of my framework rather than engaging directly on the examples you brought up. In the original post, I was referring to the pop psychology version of the “comfort zone.” Like: I’m a shy person, so my comfort zone is solitude. The socially intense space is what’s sold to me as “growth.” But if going there brings distress, I take that seriously, not as a challenge to push through, but as a sign that maybe it’s not my path.
As for fear or physical discomfort, I don’t personally see value in facing discomfort just because it’s there. What’s distress for one might be flow for another. That’s the key: alignment, not effort. Like the old line about not asking a fish to climb a tree, people should move from what fits them naturally, not from what looks like growth from the outside. Sure, sometimes life puts us in a position to choose between different discomforts. But that still doesn’t make discomfort inherently valuable. What matters is doing what resolves the emotion. That’s your path.
Likewise!
You didn’t jump to assumptions at all. I was the one who took the conversation in a broader direction and away from the specific theme you were exploring. Looking back, I can see that wasn’t entirely reflective of what you were saying in the piece.
Your point about motivation arising as emotional signals is a fascinating one and definitely something I’ll be sitting with.
As for your view on discomfort not inherently carrying meaning, I’m inclined to agree. If I’m understanding you right, you’re pushing back on the idea that discomfort always equals growth, and suggesting that comfort might sometimes signal a more natural, frictionless path—perhaps even the “right” one—not something to resist or push back against.
That tension really resonates. I’ve definitely learned the hard way that trying to force change rarely ends well, despite how much we’re taught to glorify the struggle.
I probably didn’t articulate my own worldview all that well in my earlier comment but reading your reply, I feel we’re actually more aligned (no pun intended) than I first realised.
Really appreciate you sharing this—some great food for thought.
It’s really encouraging to feel like we’re understanding each other, even if we come at life from slightly different lenses. Just knowing I’m not alone in wrestling with these tensions is a real comfort. This is exactly the kind of conversation I hope to spark by writing on Substack, the kind that helps me see the structure of my own thoughts more clearly. I’m looking forward to reading your essay on Saturday, it feels like this conversation is only just getting started.